It’s the same in this group. Manson brought me into the group, but it’s Annabel Lee who approved the addition. I know it, and they all know it, even if they don’t say it. Manson dotes on her, and Ronique is jealous when someone else gets close to her because she knows that Annabel Lee is the keystone, the one it’s all built upon. And there’s only one keystone in every group.
“Don’t look so glum,” Manson says, handing me a carton of fried rice. “You’re still brand new. You’ve slept with one guy. You have plenty of time to improve. Plus, you still have the guy, so you can’t be too bad. I’ll do my man Kegels and you can do your lady Kegels, and we’ll both get better every day.”
If only they knew.
They think I’ve only been with Angel. They don’t know about Father Salvatore fucking me with that statue the first time. They don’t know that he ordered my brother to take me, and he did, as painfully as he could possibly make it, claiming me in a way no one else ever had. They don’t know that Angel told me to go to Heath and make up. They don’t know what happened on Christmas Eve.
And because I don’t like to think about that either, I don’t tell them. Instead I listen to Manson lament how he can’t find a good boyfriend and Annabel Lee assure him that no one is good enough for him anyway; Annabel Lee contemplate whether to go out with the ‘beefcake’ who asked her to hang out this weekend; and Ronique complain about her dry spell. That one comforts me a little, since it means she and Saint aren’t sleeping together, even if they’re still seeing each other.
By the time we’re done eating, they’ve moved on to the topic of spring break, and I help clean up and accept the coffee Manson got me. A while later, someone taps on the door, and Angel pokes his head into the room.
“Hey, sexy,” he says. “Want to come hang out with us?”
“Who’s ‘us’?” Ronique asks, giving me a resentful look. “Saint said he wasn’t going to the movie because he had homework tonight.”
Angel wraps a protective arm around me and levels Ronique with a cool look. “Saint’s a big boy. I’m sure he can keep track of his own dick.”
“Well, if he’s done with his homework, maybe I’ll come too,” she says. “Surprise him. What are you guys doing?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Angel says. “If he said he’s busy, take the hint. He obviously doesn’t want to hang out with you.”
“You don’t have to be rude,” Manson says.
“And you don’t have to be so damn pretty, and yet, here we are,” Angel says, flashing Manson a grin.
I didn’t think it was possible to ruffle Manson, but he seems at a loss for words.
“Oh, let them go,” Annabel Lee says with a wave of her hand. “We need to plan our Ostara festivities anyway.”
As we leave the dorm, I scold Angel. “Don’t be mean to my friends. They’ll be all I have if… You know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“If we break up,” I mutter.
“Why would we break up?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Stuff happens.”
“We’re not breaking up,” he says. “Ever. You’re my girlfriend, and I love you, so get used to it.”
“You… You love me?” I ask.
“Of course I do,” he says. “I’ve always loved you, M.”
“Oh,” I say faintly, forgetting all about my friends.
He loves me.
Angel North loves me.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I prayed for. Someone to love me, to want me, to be mine. So why does my heart still seize up when we turn the corner into the Commons and find Saint sitting on the edge of the fountain reading, the sun turning a few loose threads of his hair golden, a stitch of concentration creasing the skin between his brows?
“What is he doing here?” I ask Angel.
“I told you, we’re hanging out,” he says. “There’s a movie on the lawn tonight. They do it every month when the weather is nice. You didn’t go in the fall?”
“No,” I admit, scowling. “Who would I have gone with?”
