Tatum's Tears | On Hold

Kind of, unedited. I checked, But still. Sorry, abt that.

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Chapter 26 - ❝My Mate Is The Reason Why.❞

"I can't do this," Tatum put her tray down and slammed her palms down on the lunch table the next afternoon, looking between the three of her friends with wide eyes.

"Goddess," Seneca sighed, putting her spoon of fried chicken rice down and sighing, "Can't a girl eat in peace, around here?"

"No, seriously," Tatum ignored her friend's exasperation and continued, "I thought I could. I tried to this morning in the car, then again in the lecture we had together, but no. I just can't get the words out."

"Well," Ezra put his food inside his mouth and continued talking while chewing as usual, "You have to. You don't have a choice."

"I know," She sighed and dropped into the bench in resignation, "I just don't know how."

"It's simple, really," Micajah shrugged with amusement, his voice circulating to a low whisper, probably to avoid the sharp ears of other supernatural eavesdroppers, "Just say, 'Angier, your Mate is an evil wench'."

"Don't we all know that?"

Tatum had a mini heart-attack at that.

Angier dropped his tray beside hers and sat down nonchalantly, seemingly unaware of the shock emanating from the occupants of the table. They had been so immersed in their conversation that they hadn't even been careful enough to be on the lookout for his possible arrival. Tatum had forgotten momentarily that the only reason why he used to be late was because of his Mate. Now that she seemed to be content with human company, Angier was back to being normal, pre-Mated Ang, and Tatum had to really stop forgetting that.

It was a dangerous thing, this sudden change.

"Haha," Tatum chimed in awkwardly, nodding at him, "Not really. Micajah was just kidding. We were doing impressions."

"Oh," Angier looked thrown off, "Well, was he doing your impression then? Because, no offense man, but you suck at this."

Micajah laughed nervously, waving him off with his fork, "None taken."

"Why would you assume it was mine?" Tatum raised her eyebrows in question, taking a bite of her food to avoid his gaze.

"'Cause you never liked Francesca?" He shrugged.

Tatum was speechless for a moment.

She cleared her throat, "Um, wait, what?"

"I said it's cause you don't like her." He repeated, rolling his eyes like that was supposed to have been obvious.

Okay, back up the truck, mister.

"Wait, I'm very well aware that she can probably hear me right now if she focused on our conversation, but I have to ask this," Tatum shook her head, "First off, what the hell? And second off, what the hell!?"

"Exactly," Seneca agreed, thankfully backing her up.

"You gotta be kidding me," The guy in question chuckled, a real chuckle filled with humor like he couldn't believe this was being asked, "Of course, I knew you never liked her that much, Tate. I don't know why you're trying to deny it, now. Seriously, it doesn't matter to me. Not everyone important to you have to like each other." He then lowered his voice, leaning forward, "And I mean, hey, Francesca didn't like you, either. You didn't see me worrying too much about it until she tried to make me choose. She's still my Mate and she's still the girl who doesn't wanna reject me. So, that means she'll come around eventually. Nothing's gonna come out of worrying over what will happen now just because we had this huge argument."