“You're lying. You just thought that your little show last night would -,” he was angry, obviously. Tate held up her hands.
“I'm really not! I promise! We got into a huge fight, I almost beat up a pregnant lady for you. Ask Jameson. Ask Sanders, he had to carry me out of the room. I told her she had to tell you, or that I would,” Tate explained.
She watched as Ang warred with his emotions. He had known Tate longer, but she knew she had been weird lately; trust was shaky between them. He was sleeping with Ellie and calling her his girlfriend, but he knew that she was capable of being almost as shitty as Jameson. It was a tough call to make.
“If I call her, and she denies all of this, I am going to be very pissed,” he said slowly, picking up his phone.
“Not fair! What if she denies it just to prolong it!? Call Sanders!” Tate demanded. Ang held up his hand and pressed his phone to his ear.
“El? Hey, Ang. Uuugggg, don't call me that, I hate my full name. I know, but he's the devil. Yeah. Yeah. So, something really weird happened ..., uh huh. Uh huh. She ..., called,” his eyes moved to stare at Tate. “Uh huh. I see. I see. Really. Really? Ooohhh. I didn't realize. No. No, not at all. Just glad to know how it is – I totally feel the same, I just thought you would freak out. No, we're totally cool. You're sure about this? Yes, I'm fine. Yes, she told me. No. No. I told her it was cool, she's coming over so I can chill her out. Yeah, I will. Don't talk about her that way, you know I don't like that. Sure. See you then. Okay. Okay. Bye.”
Tate was a little shocked. He had seemed so angry a moment ago – he was really okay with it? Why hadn't he said that from the beginning? She felt very confused. Up until a couple days ago, she had been plotting the destruction of their relationship. If she had just chilled the fuck out, it would have dissolved on its own, anyway.
“Wow, Ang, I had no idea you felt the same way, I'm sorry I -,” she started.
“No! Fuck that! I was fucking lying through my teeth! That fucking bitch! Used me!? Came between you and I? Shit, Tate, what if that's what this has been about this whole time, her just pissing on you!?” Ang snapped.
“I don't think it was. Really. I think something happened between you two, she liked it, she kept it going, then it got out of hand and she didn't have the balls to back off. She could never be like us,” Tate said quickly. He shook his head.
“I'm so pissed. Do you know how many women I could have been having sex with? This whole time?”
“I'm sorry, Ang,” Tate said softly, rubbing her hand against his leg. He sighed.
“I was stupid. You O'Shea girls, I swear,” he grumbled. She nodded.
“I know. Who ever raised us, that was Satan,” she joked.
“Totally. God. I could really use that revenge fuck now,” he groaned. She laughed.
“You had your chance. Should've taken it.”
“I mean ..., just ..., what the fuck!? I haven't had a legit girlfriend in like six years, since I was nineteen. I haven't had sex with one single other woman since I got with her!” he snapped.
“Such a waste. The world is missing out.”
“I know! Fuck. Fucking bitch,” he growled.
“I know.”
“I thought ..., I thought she liked me,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair. Tate frowned.
“If it makes you feel better, I don't think she knows how to like people. Not for real. She was still talking shit about me stealing Jameson. It's insane. She's sleeping with you and pregnant with another guy's baby, and she's still obsessed with him. Half the time, I feel like I can't get rid of him, and here she is, wanting him,” Tate laughed.
“Kitty cat?”
“Hmmm?”
“Could we, just this once, not talk about the goddamn devil?”
“Of course.”
Ang suddenly scrambled to get off the bed, almost knocking her over in the process. She ducked under his legs and stared as he hurried to pull clothing out of a hamper. He changed into a pair of expensive looking jeans, dug a little more, then pulled out a really nice, slim fitting, button up shirt. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows then bent to look in a mirror, raking his fingers through his hair.
“How do I look?” he asked, hopping into a pair of shoes. Tate blinked up at him.
“Uh, really good, actually,” she replied. He held out his arms.
“Like how good? Fuckable good?” he asked.
She let her eyes wander over him. She had always thought Ang was sexy, since the first time she'd ever met him. In a completely different way from Jameson, Ang wasn't predatory at all. He was more subtle. Like the guy who would've snuck in her bedroom window and stolen her virginity, right before her prom date was supposed to pick her up. He had a naughty-fun smile and his hair always looked like some woman had just clawed her hands through it, not to mention that his lean body just looked built for fast times. Tate nodded.
“Very fuckable. Why?” she asked. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, practically dragging her out of his bedroom.
“I just can't believe her,” Ang grumbled, letting go of Tate's hand and stalking around the apartment. She watched as he undid the bolt lock and chain lock from the door. Then he ducked down to stare out the peephole.
“Ang. What the fuck are you doing?” she asked. He waved an arm at her.
“Shut up. She's gonna be here any second,” he mumbled, leaning to the side, obviously trying to look down the hall.
“I'm really not! I promise! We got into a huge fight, I almost beat up a pregnant lady for you. Ask Jameson. Ask Sanders, he had to carry me out of the room. I told her she had to tell you, or that I would,” Tate explained.
She watched as Ang warred with his emotions. He had known Tate longer, but she knew she had been weird lately; trust was shaky between them. He was sleeping with Ellie and calling her his girlfriend, but he knew that she was capable of being almost as shitty as Jameson. It was a tough call to make.
“If I call her, and she denies all of this, I am going to be very pissed,” he said slowly, picking up his phone.
“Not fair! What if she denies it just to prolong it!? Call Sanders!” Tate demanded. Ang held up his hand and pressed his phone to his ear.
“El? Hey, Ang. Uuugggg, don't call me that, I hate my full name. I know, but he's the devil. Yeah. Yeah. So, something really weird happened ..., uh huh. Uh huh. She ..., called,” his eyes moved to stare at Tate. “Uh huh. I see. I see. Really. Really? Ooohhh. I didn't realize. No. No, not at all. Just glad to know how it is – I totally feel the same, I just thought you would freak out. No, we're totally cool. You're sure about this? Yes, I'm fine. Yes, she told me. No. No. I told her it was cool, she's coming over so I can chill her out. Yeah, I will. Don't talk about her that way, you know I don't like that. Sure. See you then. Okay. Okay. Bye.”
Tate was a little shocked. He had seemed so angry a moment ago – he was really okay with it? Why hadn't he said that from the beginning? She felt very confused. Up until a couple days ago, she had been plotting the destruction of their relationship. If she had just chilled the fuck out, it would have dissolved on its own, anyway.
“Wow, Ang, I had no idea you felt the same way, I'm sorry I -,” she started.
“No! Fuck that! I was fucking lying through my teeth! That fucking bitch! Used me!? Came between you and I? Shit, Tate, what if that's what this has been about this whole time, her just pissing on you!?” Ang snapped.
“I don't think it was. Really. I think something happened between you two, she liked it, she kept it going, then it got out of hand and she didn't have the balls to back off. She could never be like us,” Tate said quickly. He shook his head.
“I'm so pissed. Do you know how many women I could have been having sex with? This whole time?”
“I'm sorry, Ang,” Tate said softly, rubbing her hand against his leg. He sighed.
“I was stupid. You O'Shea girls, I swear,” he grumbled. She nodded.
“I know. Who ever raised us, that was Satan,” she joked.
“Totally. God. I could really use that revenge fuck now,” he groaned. She laughed.
“You had your chance. Should've taken it.”
“I mean ..., just ..., what the fuck!? I haven't had a legit girlfriend in like six years, since I was nineteen. I haven't had sex with one single other woman since I got with her!” he snapped.
“Such a waste. The world is missing out.”
“I know! Fuck. Fucking bitch,” he growled.
“I know.”
“I thought ..., I thought she liked me,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair. Tate frowned.
“If it makes you feel better, I don't think she knows how to like people. Not for real. She was still talking shit about me stealing Jameson. It's insane. She's sleeping with you and pregnant with another guy's baby, and she's still obsessed with him. Half the time, I feel like I can't get rid of him, and here she is, wanting him,” Tate laughed.
“Kitty cat?”
“Hmmm?”
“Could we, just this once, not talk about the goddamn devil?”
“Of course.”
Ang suddenly scrambled to get off the bed, almost knocking her over in the process. She ducked under his legs and stared as he hurried to pull clothing out of a hamper. He changed into a pair of expensive looking jeans, dug a little more, then pulled out a really nice, slim fitting, button up shirt. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows then bent to look in a mirror, raking his fingers through his hair.
“How do I look?” he asked, hopping into a pair of shoes. Tate blinked up at him.
“Uh, really good, actually,” she replied. He held out his arms.
“Like how good? Fuckable good?” he asked.
She let her eyes wander over him. She had always thought Ang was sexy, since the first time she'd ever met him. In a completely different way from Jameson, Ang wasn't predatory at all. He was more subtle. Like the guy who would've snuck in her bedroom window and stolen her virginity, right before her prom date was supposed to pick her up. He had a naughty-fun smile and his hair always looked like some woman had just clawed her hands through it, not to mention that his lean body just looked built for fast times. Tate nodded.
“Very fuckable. Why?” she asked. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, practically dragging her out of his bedroom.
“I just can't believe her,” Ang grumbled, letting go of Tate's hand and stalking around the apartment. She watched as he undid the bolt lock and chain lock from the door. Then he ducked down to stare out the peephole.
“Ang. What the fuck are you doing?” she asked. He waved an arm at her.
“Shut up. She's gonna be here any second,” he mumbled, leaning to the side, obviously trying to look down the hall.
