October 31, 2001 Angel with Her Dirty Wings
OCTOBER 31, 2001
Angel with Her Dirty Wings
AOIFE
“I am so damn sorry about what happened in there.” Catching ahold of my hand, Paul led me away from a crowd of nearby partygoers as he tried to weasel his way back into my good books.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as a black Honda Civic tore back up to the entrance of the pavilion, causing my heart to hammer violently.
He was back.
The car door opened, and out fell a laughing Joey, with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a can of Dutch Gold in his hand. Unsteady on his feet, he banged the roof of the car to signal goodbye before waving the car off.
Laughing to himself, he took a drag of his smoke and looked around, eyes finally landing and staying on me.
I waved at him.
He raised his hand to wave back but stopped when his gaze flicked to Paul.
His smile disappeared.
“You were only dancing,” Paul continued, drawing my attention back to him. “I get it now. I was being a tool. I’m sorry, Aoife. I am.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, he let go of my hand to run his hands through his hair. “I’m a jealous asshole, okay? I can’t help it. Look at you.”
“Look at me?” Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned against the parked car at my back and gave him a hard look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re beautiful and I lose my head around you.”
“Flattery won’t get you out of this,” I warned, flicking my gaze back to find Joey had disappeared from sight. “You called me a slut and a whore.”
“Aoife, come on,” he pleaded. “You know I didn’t mean it. I don’t really feel that way about you.”
“If you don’t mean it, then you shouldn’t say it,” I snapped, unable to mask the emotion in my voice.
Because it hurt .
Having him think that way about me was not a good feeling. Our relationship was a goddamn train wreck, but it hurt to hear him say those things to me because before we hooked up, we were friends.
I’d always known that Paul was materialistic and vain. It never used to bother me that much because I had plenty of flaws myself. I was loud and outspoken, could entice an argument from a silent monk—as my father liked to remind me—and I was especially slow to get intimate.
Paul had always tolerated my flaws and therefore I tolerated his. But lately, I was beginning to think that being able to mutually tolerate each other wasn’t a good enough reason to stay in a relationship. Especially when said relationship was starting to weigh heavily on my shoulders.
“Look, I think it’s pretty clear that we’re not working out,” I heard myself finally work up the courage to tell him. “I’m not happy, and you’re not happy, so I don’t see why we should continue—”
“Don’t say it,” he warned, eyes wild with panic as he grabbed my hands and pulled me toward him. “We’re not breaking up, Aoife. It’s not happening, so get it out of your head.”
“Get it out of my head?” I slapped his hands away. “You don’t get to make all of the decisions here, Paul. I have a say in whether or not I want to be in this relationship. You can’t force me.”
“You want him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He narrowed his eyes in disgust. “ Who I’m talking about.”
I released a heavy breath. “This isn’t about Joey.”
“It’s always about him, Aoife,” he practically roared, losing his cool with me. “It will always come back to him because you are all about him. Don’t bother denying it. It’s written all over your face.”
“He’s my friend, Paul.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not fighting with you about this,” I growled. “I have a friendship with Joey, and I’m not giving that up for anyone.”
“You mean you’re not giving him up,” he corrected and then choked out a humorless laugh. “Jesus Christ, how blind can you get? The asshole doesn’t want you. When are you going to get it through your thick skull? He doesn’t give two shits about you, and it’s fucking pathetic to see you fall all over him like this.”
“Paul!”
“Look!” he demanded, physically turning me around so that I had a perfect view of the side of the pavilion. “Look at him,” Paul ordered, catching ahold of my chin and forcing me to watch as Danielle Long pinned Joey against the wall of the pavilion and thrust her tongue inside his mouth. And even though his hands hung limply at his sides, he rocked his hips and kissed her back.
Oh yeah, he was definitely into it.
Into her.
My breath hitched in my throat, and it took everything I had inside of me to stand my ground and not break down.
“Look,” Paul reiterated, forcing me to take it all in. “That’s how much he’s thinking about you, Aoife. He doesn’t give a damn.”