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She smiled, because that was the right answer, and her lips thinned too tightly because that meant it was wrong. "But you love this one. You almost broke up with me over it." She was moving now, unsteadily skating on the ramp until she got to the curve, which slowed her to a stop. "How fast do you need to go to make this happen?" The sudden conversation change fell so fluidly from her lips that it almost failed to be jarring. She turned, and tried to push harder, so that she'd go fast enough to go up the ramp. Instead, she managed about ten inches before the skateboard rolled her back down. At the very least, she was keeping her balance on the board enough to not fall over when it tilted upward for that brief moment.

She revved up once more, trying even harder to get higher up the ramp. Her slim body bent to keep herself from falling off, but she'd actually achieved some height that time, and there was no stopping gravity from pulling her off of the now vertical board, and dropping her down to the ground on her a**.

"Ow. Faster than that, I guess."

She reached out and took his hand, using it to pull herself up off of the ground. The skateboard rolled listlessly behind her, never quite stopping. "Of course it was a good idea," She purred out, using the hand he'd offered to pull him up close until he slammed against her body. Her arms wrapped around his neck, trapping him against her with an intimacy that held the bite of vengeance in it. She could tell he didn't want her anymore. She could feel his disinterest in every word. If that was his choice, then so be it. He would get everything he didn't want and more.

"If I don't wear a mini skirt, you'll lose interest in me. You'll forget how good it feels to slide your hands up these little skirts. Then I'd lose you. And we can't have that, can we."

Her body was always in movement, pressing against him in ways that demanded attention. Her head bent in and pressed her lips forcefully against his. Her teeth tugged at his lower lip, and bit down. Perhaps a little too hard.

"What am I if not a good ********, right?"

No matter how angry she might have been, or how uninterested Otto had seemed, his response to her advances came as a jarring surprise to her. It was like kissing and flirting with a piece of wood, and he was about as eloquent as one as well. If he'd still loved her, (or ever loved her, some twisted part of her whispered) he would have gotten mad at her assessment of herself. But he didn't get mad. His answer was unsatisfying, in dozens of different ways.

"Oh yeah?" She muttered, her face showing hints of doubt. After all, even he had to know that was the wrong thing to say at a time like this. "What else am I then? Or maybe you mean I'm just a great ********. An outstanding ********. All true, of course. But really, Otto. Tell me." Her hands toyed with his collar, until her nails raked across the skin of his neck. "What am I? I mean, really. If anyone has the right to tell me what I am, it's you."

Her hands clenched, as she tried not to dig her nails into his pretty little neck.

"Just tell me." She leaned in, and her lips pressed against his once more, but only to whisper words against them. "Tell me what I am to you."

Ah, but there was a third option. One that did not involve Otto wielding any form of power when it came to her and their relationship. Maebe did not believe in the prospect of getting dumped, nor did she believe that a man who no longer wants her deserves the right to make that decision.

When he pushed her away, her arms wound around and slapped his away from her, hard enough to free her from his hold. The subtlety in her expression was gone, and instead stood a vibrant flame of anger, burning brightly in front of him. He would not be so easily released from what was clearly the torture of her presence.

Her hand whipped around, slapping him across the cheek. The sound of the strike echoed off of the ramp, just as it did a moment later when her other hand wound up and struck his other cheek. She stepped back, and felt his skateboard against her foot. Oh, the urge to break it in half bubbled up within her so desperately.

"You can. You won't." Her voice cut through the air like knives, poised to dig deep into his flesh. "You think you've got the right to do this to me, Otto Graves, but I've got news for you. You have no right. You have nothing. You are nothing." She'd stepped forward, and her face was inches from his, hissing her words out in quiet loathing. "But you're my nothing."

She moved forward, brushing her shoulder hard against his side as she stormed back towards the building, heading for the apartment.

"I'm having dinner with Cami tonight." She informed him, without looking back. "You're not invited. You've got a day to get your s**t together. After that, you're going to come back to the apartment. You're going to get back in bed. And everything is going to be perfectly normal, whether you ******** like it or not."

She stopped at the door, and clenched hard on the frame. She saw herself in the reflection of the glass. She saw the monster in her eyes that had been sleeping for so long now. Sleeping, but not dead. It waited for this moment. It knew she would be betrayed eventually.

And it was right.

Her head tilted to one side, but she refused to look at him. "Do you understand?"

She smiled at her own reflection, and the distant one she could see of him turned to look at her. The flames died away, but her eyes were still crackling with life.

"Thank you." She murmured, and it sounded so entirely genuine, it was startling. "I'll see you tomorrow." And she would. She would see him tomorrow, in their apartment; the one he'd fought so hard to convince her it was okay to move into. He'd placed her there gently, with his own two hands.

He had no one to blame but himself.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She chirped out, still looking at her own reflection in the mirror. Her hand lifted to brush a strand of her hair back into place. Back into perfection. "I love you."

She waited.

A soft, satisfied little sigh left her at those words. No one had ever meant them when they said them to her, in the past. And now, she was quickly learning, no one meant them at all. They were a promise, and an apology. She took both, and found that was all she needed to survive.

The door was opened, and she disappeared through it, back to their apartment to go make dinner. It wouldn't be anything special, but she would try her very best.

Maebe, after all, deserved the very best.