six
The Merciful
“So, tell us about your break,” Manson says, lounging like a lord on Annabel Lee’s pillows. “Did you slide up on Saint? Ronique will be so jealous.”
“He’s my brother,” I protest, but my cheeks burn at the memory of the silky sensation of his skin when he slid between my lips, the earthy taste of him. I can still summon it, a hint of it lingering on my tongue when I close my eyes in the dark, when I press my fingers to the places he’s touched.
My friends hoot, and before I’ve had a chance to explain, the door swings open and Ronique enters in a rush of cold, wet winter air.
“You’ll never believe what just happened,” she announces, swinging her bag off her shoulder as she turns to close the door.
We’re congregating in Annabel Lee’s room on the first day of classes, the others having returned to campus at last. I didn’t see them until this afternoon, though I know they were all back this weekend and probably hung out without me.
I try not to feel left out. I just met them, after all.
“Oh,” Ronique says, drawing up short when she sees me. “You’re here.”
“Is that okay?” I ask, though it’s clear by her tone that it’s not.
“Of course it’s okay,” Annabel Lee says from where she’s crouched near her crates, coaxing one of her critters to readjust to life in the dorm. “I wouldn’t have invited you if you weren’t invited.”
“Yeah,” Ronique says after a brief hesitation. “Actually, I should be thanking you.”
“You should?” I ask, not sure what she’s even talking about.
“Yeah,” she says. “For putting in a good word for me.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“With your brother.”
“Saint?” I manage, my voice somehow coming out almost normal.
“Do you have another brother I don’t know about?” she asks, glancing at Manson like he might be able to tell her if I’m always this awkward.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I just didn’t—I didn’t.”
“Well, you must have said something, because he told me to thank you,” she says, a smile breaking over her face as she gives a little shimmy of excitement and turns to the others. “He asked me out!”
“And he thinks you need to thank someone for that?” Manson asks, arching a perfect, shaped brow.
“Wow,” Annabel Lee says, shaking her head. “The ego on that man.”
“Oh, come on, be happy for me,” Ronique says, then skips to the bed and flops down dramatically on her back. “Can you believe it? Saint Soules and me. ”
“I really can’t,” Annabel Lee says in the most deadpan voice I’ve ever heard.
“That man is even more full of himself than—than you wish you could be,” Manson says, shaking his head. He came back from break with a new color, his exquisitely styled hair now a striking silver.
Ronique giggles and sits up. “Here’s hoping. For now, it’s just hanging out. But if all goes well…”
She wiggles her brows.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“If all goes well, our little Vero is going to get railed by a Hellhound,” Manson says.
Annabel stands in a swish of black silk, her kohl-lined eyes assessing me. “You good with that?”
“I don’t need permission,” Ronique says, waving a dismissive hand. “She doesn’t own him.”
“Yeah, but you check in with your friend before you date her brother,” Annabel Lee argues. “Common courtesy.”
“Like she asked you before she started dating your cousin?”
“I’m not,” I protest.
“Not what I heard,” Ronique says with a shrug.
I’m going to murder Angel. This is the second person who’s said that. I don’t even know how he got the word around when campus was closed. Unless…
Suddenly I’m filled with the horrible thought that maybe they sent the video around to everyone, and I feel even more nauseous.
“Where did you hear that?” I croak, my lips numb with terror and rage.
“People talk,” Manson says, like it’s no big deal. “Especially when it involves the Hellhounds.”
“What are they saying?”
“Some little birdie saw you leaving his room after midnight on Christmas Eve,” Manson says. “Imagine that. Our little tender Mercy, skipping Mass to get some ass.”
Annabel Lee picks up her skunk, stroking a hand over his head. “You’re like a proud papa, watching the innocents go out and get defiled one by one.”
“As long as they come home to Papa and tell him all about it,” Manson says. “Besides, what else am I going to do with my wasted life? If I can’t be on a runway in Milan, I might as well root for the elimination of that purity bullshit as y’all wake up, one small-town hick at a time.”
“Hey,” Annabel Lee protests.
“Babe, you’re further from a small-town hick than me,” he says. “Obviously I didn’t mean you.”
“Good,” she says. “And you’re not wasting your life. You’re the next big hockey star.”
“Speaking of,” Ronique says. “I heard there was a hockey party coming up. I need all details.”
“Guess I’m going to have to find a date, if you’re all coupled up,” Manson says, swirling a finger around the group.
“Wait, you have a boyfriend?” I ask, turning to Annabel Lee.
“Don’t act so shocked,” she says in her droll, deadpan voice. “I’m very loveable.”
“I know, it’s just—”
“And who said anything about a boy?” Ronique demands.
“Oh, I didn’t… I’m sorry.”
“She’s just messing with you,” Annabel Lee says. “I dabble, but I actually prefer men. All those muscles are a great source of protein.” She flashes her teeth at me like a vampire showing its fangs, and Manson shoves her playfully.
“Stop scaring the new girl,” he stage whispers, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile meant just for me. “She was home-schooled.”
Instead of awkwardness taking over, I feel all warm and sparkly inside.
That one smile said everything—that I was included, that the joke wasn’t at my expense.
That even though I have social anxiety and don’t relate to normal people in a normal way, they accept me.
They still like me, know me well enough to joke around with me like their other friends.
“It’s okay,” I say, smiling back at Manson. “They may not have taught us about cannibalism, but I’ve read a book or two about vampires.”
Manson covers his heart. “Escandalo!”
“Parties are going to be so much more fun now that we all have dates,” Ronique says. “Manson, get your phone. There’s gotta be someone in there you can hit up.”
He sighs like it’s a burden, but he pulls his phone from his pocket. “I suppose if everyone’s got their meat source for the semester, I’m going to have to find one too. No way I’m going with y’all to the steakhouse and getting a salad. I can only be a vegetarian in one area of my life.”