"Are you always this clumsy?"
The words leave my mouth in a low, clipped tone. I shove my hand away without looking at it, the contact already burning into my skin.
The touch lingers longer than it should, even after it's gone, and I can feel it like heat trapped under my ribs.
I speak, not because I want to... but because I need to. I need to say something sharp, something cold, anything to sever the tension that just gripped me seconds ago. Anything to stop anyone from doubting that there's really something like this is going inside me.
"Oh, right. It must be really hard to climb a ladder that fast. Skipping over the steps... One moment you feel like nothing, and the next, you're sitting at the high table. So it's understandable when you're still as clumsy." The words come out sharp and jumbled.
I know I'm rambling, not even sure what I'm trying to say. I just want to be cruel now. I want to find a reason to hate her, even if I have to force it out of myself.
