by Rylee Swann
Great, just fucking great. Now, I’m living in a frozen brewery.
Step-hopping into a pair of jeans from the bedroom floor, I shrug into a flannel shirt as I go to the door and throw it open without thinking. If it’s any of Lucifer’s Angels, I’m shit out of luck.
But it’s not. “Angie?”
“Hi.” There’s a wide but awkward smile on her face as she pokes her head into my apartment. “It’s freezing in here.”
I can’t wrap my head around why she’s here. When she shivers, I hurry through my crap apartment closing windows to shut out the winter blasts.
“Is now a bad time?” She hugs herself, scrunching down into her coat. “I mean… you said it was okay when I called…”
“Oh, right, yeah.” I grin sheepishly. “Sorry, I forgot. Come on in. I’d say take off your coat, but…” I wave my arm to indicate the temperature of the room. “I was airing the place out and umm… fell asleep.” I run a hand through my hair. It’s more of a tangled mess than usual. I guess when I fell asleep it was still wet from my shower.
She laughs self-consciously. “That’s okay, I understand. No worries.”
She follows me into the living room and takes a seat on the ratty old chair across from the couch. She perches on the edge like she’s going to scurry away any second. I sigh inwardly. We’re both so uncomfortable, it’s painful.
Picking up my guitar that’s leaning against a wall, just to have something to do with my hands, I sit on the couch and pluck a couple of strings. She’s going to have to get this conversation going. This was her idea.
Finally, Angie breaks the silence. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
I shrug, not looking up, and continue to strum my guitar.
“Well, alright then.” There’s a hesitant pause.
What could she possibly want to say to me that’s so hard?
“Fringe, I came here to say I’m sorry.”
Oh. This gets me to raise my eyes to meet hers. Fact is, she does look sorry. “What for?”
“I behaved badly. Yes, that night at the party I was frightened but that’s no excuse for how I treated you afterwards.”
She’s about to say more but I clamp my open palm down on the strings to silence them, startling her.
“You ditched me, Angie. I don’t even know why you’re here. You could have sent a text to apologize and soothe your conscience that way.”
Looking down, she busies her hands with a button on her coat. “You’re hurt and lashing out.” She nods to her coat. “I really am sorry. Give me five more minutes to explain? If you don’t like what you hear, you can show me the door.”
“Go on,” I say in an even tone. I don’t know why I’m being such a bastard. What she did wasn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me recently. Maybe it’s just the final straw.
“Thank you.” She looks up and offers a small smile and I purposely go back to strumming the guitar as I watch her luscious lips move. “I like you a lot, Fringe. But we were never going to get together.” She chooses each word with careful precision. “When I realized you were starting to like me a little too much, I took the excuse of the party to put some distance between us. It was cowardly and, again, I’m really sorry.”
I want to scream at her, tell her that we’re perfect together, and to stop this fucking crap. Instead, continuing to keep my tone as level as possible, I scoff, “Why were we never going to get together?”
A look of such sweet sorrow crosses her features that my heart squeezes. Fuck all if she says she’s dying or something.
“Because I won’t let myself get between you and who you’re already in love with.”
What?
“What are you talking about?”
She takes a deep breath. “The night we met, when you were so drunk you couldn’t remember much…”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Again, that small smile. “What you don’t remember is telling me that you’re so far gone in love with someone that you can’t think straight. At first, I wasn’t sure if I should believe you but you started telling me stories about her and, even as drunk as you were, I saw the love.”
Now, I’m concerned. I don’t remember any of this. Who did I tell her I was in love with? I have to know. “Did I tell you who with?”
She nods. “You told me you wrote a song about her. When Raven Calls. I’m guessing her name is Raven.”
I take in an involuntary breath. Not so much at the revelation that I’d mostly come to myself already, but at the title of the song. I knew I’d given the song a name but I couldn’t remember it. When Raven Calls. It’s perfect.
She looks up at me and we stare at each other for a moment as my fingers automatically start playing the tune.
“Is that it?” she asks as I continue to play.
“Uh-huh,” I murmur automatically as my mind races.
“So it really is true. You love a girl named Raven.”
I look at the beautiful woman who came here to apologize to me, but my fingers keep moving into the chords. I can’t seem to stop them. “Has this been hard on you?”
At this, she stands, takes off her coat and sits beside me on the couch. I hadn’t noticed until now that it’s warmed up enough in here that we are no longer in danger of frostbite.
“I value your friendship a great deal. I could have fallen for you but I knew almost from the moment we met that you were already in love with someone else. You were off the market so I didn’t let myself think that way.” She offers a sweet smile and bumps her shoulder against mine.
I stop playing and throw my arm around her shoulders, bringing her in for a hug.
That’s when the banging at my front door starts. It’s so loud and insistent that we both jump to our feet, startled.
“What the fuck?” I put the guitar down and run a hand through my hair. “Stay here.” I motion to Angie and head toward the door.
The banging doesn’t stop. If this is Skull or any of the other LAs, or even worse, my old man, I’ll just shit. My hand is on the doorknob when I hear her.
Dawn. “Fringe! Come on! Please be home! Fringe!” There’s more frantic pounding.
I throw open the door. “Dawn. What’s wrong?”
“Thank god. I was running and running…” She’s having trouble catching her breath, her chest heaving, and her cheeks are bright red.
“Hey, take it easy.” I open the door wider. “Come in. Tell me what happened.”
She looks up at me, still panting, then her eyes go to something behind me. I watch them go wide, a look of despair replacing the relief of finding me home.
“No, oh no no no.” She spins in place and takes off running back down the street.
Shocked, I turn to look at what she must have seen and find Angie standing right behind me, even though I told her to stay put.
“Fuck.” I grab my coat and head out the door after Dawn.
“Fringe, wait. What’s going on?” There’s a note of fear in Angie’s voice.
“That’s Raven. Something’s wrong. I gotta go.” I keep moving, leaving Angie behind with more questions on her lips. They’ll just have to wait.
Once outside, I scan the street in all directions. The sun set not too long ago and there’s a small orange glow on the horizon that will disappear within minutes. It’s that difficult twilight time when it’s hard to see much of anything. What I know I don’t see, is Dawn. She’s vanished.
I take a few steps in one direction and shout her name and then do the same in the other direction. A passerby offers a smile that says he wishes he could help. I wait a moment, but get no reply. She could be anywhere, taken any street, cut through any alley. My only hope of finding her is to assume she’s on her way home.
Reaching into my coat pocket, I say a little prayer of thanksgiving when my fingers touch the keys to my bike. With my other hand, I pull my phone from my back pocket and speed dial her number. It rings and rings then goes to voicemail.
I try again with the same results. Damn it. She’s not answering but I can, at least, try to find her.
I hurry back to where I parked my bike, swing on, start the engine, and roar down the street. Dawn’s penthouse is a couple of miles from my apartment, and knowing that she could take any number of shortcuts where I can’t go on my motorcycle, I decide to take the most direct route to her place, hoping I catch up with her.
Driving down street after street, darting through traffic and breaking as many laws as I’m taking risks, I keep my eyes out for her, straining into the glare. Cursing at the fourth red light, I’m on her street by the time I finally spot her. She’s about to slip into the entrance of her building but turns her head in my direction.
Fuck. I’m too far away. I’ll never make it.
What’s worse is that I know Dawn has seen me. She pauses, frozen for a moment, before hurrying to the door and disappearing within.
“Dawn!” I shout in frustration. Matt, the doorman, gives me the stink eye and I lower my head, my heart heavy.
I idle in front of her building, debating whether I should follow her in or not. I’ve never had a real relationship, only one-night stands or weekend flings, and I just don’t know what to do. She ran from me. Doesn’t that mean she wants her space?
Besides, she decided months ago that she wanted intimacy with Lobo, not me. Doesn’t that tell me what I need to know?
Still, she looked so wrung out at my door. I just want to hold her and tell her everything is going to be okay, even though I have no idea what’s going on.
Fuck, I love that girl.
But I think I’ve blown it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Raven Dawn
“My life is a fucking disaster.”
Divine looks up from her desk as I flop down onto her bed. Kicking off my boots, I crawl under the covers. I’m still frozen from running recklessly down the streets of Toronto in the middle of winter.
“What happened?” She looks concerned and slams shut the textbook she was reading. Good for her, trying to catch up on homework. I’m a lost cause in that department.
“Paparazzi.” I spit the word out like a curse.
“Oh.” She nods sympathetically. She’s seen them surround me like a pack of hungry wolves before. “What’d they want this time?”
I bury my face in my hands and peek at her through my fingers. “They, errr… want to know who’s going to pop my cherry on my birthday.”
Divine’s eyes grow comically wide. “Tell me they did not say that!”
I’m in a terrible mood but she’s making me laugh. “Not in those exact words, but close enough. You remember when I told them that’s what I was doing for my birthday?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think they took you seriously. Besides, balls on them to ask you that.”
“Monumentally rude.”
“Stupid creepy.”
“Tragically misguided,” I say, trying to keep up.
We’re both laughing now and I’m so glad for the distraction from what’s really bothering me—Fringe.
“Ick factor eleven!”
I stick my tongue out at her. “Okay, you win.”
From her chair, she does a little mock bow. “What else is bothering you?”
I gape at her. “Nothing.”
Shaking her head, she lobs a pencil at me. “C’mon, Dawn, I know you.”
I sigh and look away, staring at a spot on the wall behind her. I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to examine my feelings, whatever they are. Most of all, I don’t want to start crying. Again.
Divine plants an elbow on the desk, laying her chin on her fist, letting me know she’ll wait all night and I sigh.
“When I broke free of them and ran down the street, they ran after me. I kinda panicked and wound up running all the way to Fringe’s place. I made sure I’d lost them first, though.”
“They fucking chased you?”
“Yeah, but that’s not the part—”
“That’s bothering you. So, spill.”
I groan. “Fringe was with some girl I didn’t recognize. She wasn’t someone from our crowd.”
Divine doesn’t look impressed. Or upset. Did she not hear me? “Yeah, and?”
I sit up in my frustration. “Yeah and they might be serious!”
She shakes her head with a knowing smile. “Impossible.”
“Huh?” I could not be more baffled. “Why not?”
“Because, my silly clueless friend, Fringe is in love with you.”
I find myself gaping at her again. She did not just say that. I must have heard her wrong. “That’s… that’s…” Ridiculous. Insane. Nuts. True? “He is not.”
“Say what you want, but he is.” She holds up a hand and starts counting off on her fingers. “In a couple of days, you’re only going to be… six years younger than him. That’s a lot different from when you were twelve and he was eighteen.”
“But he was with some girl.”
She nods sympathetically. “While you take your sweet-ass time giving him the signal to act on his feelings, you think he’s gonna be a monk?” She shrugs with a smile. “’Sides, I don’t think there’s anything going on with this girl.”
“Why?” I barely get the word out, I’m so stunned.
“Fringe has been different lately.”
“How?” Great, I’m a monosyllabic cavewoman now.
“Dunno, like he’s had some sort of epiphany.” She looks at me but I don’t think she’s seeing me. She’s considering the question, putting her thoughts together. “He’s been more serious in general. Look, I think he wants you and he knows he has to reel you in now before you slip away. Believe me or not. I’m just saying.”
I shake my head, ready to deny everything again but she stops me with a look.
“Think about it. It’s easier for me to see it because I’m on the outside looking in. You’re in the middle of it and completely oblivious. The big question is whether or not you feel the same way about him.” She smirks. “I’m betting yes.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I don’t know what to say, so I opt for the coward’s way and say nothing.
Grabbing a throw from the end of the bed, I pop out of Divine’s bed and wrap it around myself. “It’s getting late. I got shit to do before school tomorrow.”
Divine’s laughter follows me as I scurry from her room.
***
The school day flows by in a complete blur. I get as much out of it as I would have if I ditched classes altogether. I didn’t sleep well last night. What—who I saw at Fringe’s kept vying for attention, along with everything Divine said.
Do I love Fringe?
Of course, I do. The real question is, am I in love with him?
My head is spinning. This is why I didn’t want the complications of a relationship. This is why I chose Lobo. I’ve heard he’s good in bed and he doesn’t expect anything else from me. My first time would be successful, not the horrible nightmare it could be.
Not the awful, soul-crushing event it was for Mom.
So, why does Fringe’s face keep appearing in my mind when I think about this?
I should talk to him.
The thought makes me cringe. What an awkward conversation.
Hey, Fringe. Are you in love with me? Cuz, ya know, I think I might be… ya know, in love with you.
God, no. That conversation is so not happening.
Then again, it’s Fringe, my best friend. He’d never hurt me.
Gah, I feel like throwing up. This is simply all too much, too fast. Tomorrow, I turn eighteen. I’m not a damn child anymore. But, shit, does growing up have to happen all in one day?
The last bell of the day has me flying out of my seat and to the exit to meet Divine at the side door. She’s driving us home. I am not getting caught in a paparazzi feeding frenzy again. Moving quickly out the exit, I turn to go to the side of the building when I hear my name being called. My head swivels in th
at direction.
No paparazzi, thank god. It’s Lobo on his motorcycle, beckoning to me.
Taking a good look around to make sure I didn’t miss any of those sneaky devils, I go down the path to talk to him.
“Hop on,” he says when I get to him.
“Nah, that’s okay. I’m catching a ride with Divine.”
“C’mon, we never got a chance to talk yesterday.” He pats the seat behind him. “We’ll go to my place. I’ll order a pizza and we can get friendly, have a nice evening.”
“My birthday’s tomorrow,” I remind him, thinking he’s talking about hooking up tonight.
“Yeah, I know. If it’s so important to you, I can wait one more day. Doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun, eh?” He points a leather-gloved finger at me. “You haven’t been at Lucifer’s in days. I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.”
I tilt my head, considering him. I’m beginning to see everything in a new light and realize that I don’t know what his motives are. I can’t believe I never asked.
“Why’s this so important to you? It’s not like we’re dating. You have your pick of the litter, whenever you want. I mean, girls are happy to blow you under the table. So—”
He chuckles. “Can’t we talk about this later?” He jerks his head to the back of his bike. “Come on, let’s get out of the cold.”
I relent with a sigh and pull out my cell phone. “Hang on, I’m texting Divine.”
Me: Lobo’s here. Going to his place.
Divine: You sure?
Me: Yeah
Divine: Well, just be careful, k?
Me: Always
Divine: K, if u need me I’ll be at Peach’s.
Me: Have fun.
Divine: You too.
Putting my phone back into my bag, I step to the bike, mount, and hold on tight to Lobo as he peels away from the curb.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Fringe
I feel like shit and I’m not even hungover.
With a groan I set down my guitar and hunt for my cell phone. Finding it under a pile of dirty clothes, I check for messages. Nothing. Come on, Dawn. What the fuck? Don’t act your damn age. I know you’re more mature than this.
