11. Where does this rollercoaster end?
Where does this rollercoaster end?
KYRA
“If that asshole would’ve laid a finger on you, by the Gods, I would’ve jammed my fist into his dick hole,” she announces in anger. “I’m good at making things fit.” Excuse me, what?
“Angie, I–”
“I knew he was stubborn.” She continues.
“Especially after the death of his fayling, but this…this is unacceptable.” She runs a hand through her undisturbed hair, pacing around my living area.
“I can withstand his insults and threats. Trust me. Every chance he gets, he reminds me that I’m beneath him.
Hinting my status means nothing. And every fucking time, I still my tongue.
Understanding he’s an elder, and I shouldn’t lash out. ”
The bite in her tone blends with a repugnant expression that tells me she is withholding something.
I attempt to speak, but the idea is swallowed by her continuation.
“Like, I go around flaunting this so-called status he insists on mentioning. Who the fuck is he to say you don’t belong here.
Since your arrival, he’s been steadfast on proving you’re not a fay.
At first, I understood, but now, it’s like he has a secret vendetta. And I’ll kill… ”
She bites her tongue, halting whatever comes next, and I witness the knuckles of her hands turning white from balling them.
This version of Angie seems like more of a reflection of fear and anger cutting chunks of her heart into pieces, and I remember how I felt about Rosie’s death.
That indescribable torture breaking me every morning, while throughout the day, I would piece myself back together, figuring it would be easier not to exist rather than dealing with it.
She inhales and lifts her head, forcing back the tears glossing over her lashes as mine begin swelling. “Did I do something wrong?” Battling my inner demons, I try not to break down.
“What? Kyra, no. You didn’t do anything other than what was asked of you.”
“Then why’d the flames go out? Why is Holland adamant on removing me, and why does Ethan want me dead?” I blink, and the weighted tears race down my cheeks. “I must have done something wrong.”
Angie stalks off, ignoring my questions and the few escaping tears, ripping off her dress in one angry pull.
She turns and faces me, her hair swinging behind her back with a smile that makes her eyes squint.
Standing before me in a black thong and no bra, I notice her body is flawless–angelic even–with a faint glow bouncing off her skin.
“I know. We need coffee. Iced coffee.” She turns away, heading for the fridge. Her heels click in cadence while I watch her perfectly tanned ass switch back and forth. How on earth does this woman make it through the day? Everything she does is random.
“Wanna fill me in here?” My tears dry before more have a chance of escaping.
“What do you mean?” she asks, popping off the cold-brew bottle’s lid.
“Why do we need iced coffee? More importantly, and I can’t stress this enough, why are you naked?”
She continues fixing our beverages in silence, rushing and disregarding me entirely as ice cubes spill along with small amounts of coffee.
She is panicking, which is unlike her naturally serene and poised self.
Something is off. She is compartmentalizing and doing a terrible job of it.
I approach her back, gently placing a hand atop her shoulder, and she jitters beneath my touch, startled, yet she continues her objective.
“Angie, what’s wrong?” She turns, still dawning a false smile whilst her eyes tattle a different story. The truth. Puffy and red underneath, her mascara has a faded trail running down her cheek.
“Nothing’s wrong. We need more sweeteners for the coffee. I’ll run out and get some.”
“Iced coffee,” I correct, knowing she despises the regular version. And since when does she ‘run out and get’ anything?
“Yeah…iced coffee.” Her tears snowball, each one pulling more along with it and unknotting a tangled web of emotions she has been dedicated to holding. Without a second thought, my arms wrap around her.
“Talk to me.” Laying my head against the softness of her tense shoulders, I refuse to let go.
She sobs. “They’re trying to get rid of you, and I don’t want you leaving.
I won’t allow it,” her voice shatters. “I know we just met, but it feels like I’ve known you my whole life.
I can’t let them wipe your memory and send you back defenseless–or…
” Her head falls onto my shoulder. “The other option.” I listen attentively, my own feelings resonating with hers. I don’t want to leave either.
Choking back a cry, I allow her to continue, “You may not feel it yet, but the spell that brought you back placed a portion of me inside you, and vice versa. I used too much magic in fear of not being able to save you. We’re affinity bonded…
” Loose tears find their path over the tender skin of my cheeks, reminding me that I wouldn’t be here had she not saved me.
“And I know it happened against your will. I’m sorry. ”
But I do sense it. There is something about Angie that makes me feel not alone anymore, and it isn’t until now that any logic could be made from it.
“We’ll circle back, but Angie, I don’t want to leave either. I just don’t know how to stay if I can’t wield magic.”
“We just need a little time to figure that out.” Her sobs lessen.
“Then let’s make a plan and find a way to explain what happened tonight.” She nods after a well-deserved sigh. Her shoulders ease from the newly found hope.
“Hey, Kyra,” she says lowly.
“Yeah?”
“I’m naked, and you’re holding me.”
“Only you would take a serious moment and make it not,” I release her with a playful smile.
“This is serious. Only besties hold each other naked.” She frowns. “So, that means we’re officially besties, right?” Her vision sparkles, but I know she is not letting this go.
“Is this what best friends do in your realm?”
“Yes. Though I’ve never had one. So maybe.”
An ache weighs in my chest hearing that. “Sure, we’re besties.” I laugh. But am I betraying Rosie? Her memory. Legacy. The connection we share…shared. Is it possible to have more than one best friend?
A gasp refocuses my mind. “Does that mean I can do your hair now?”
“Nope. Still can’t touch my hair.”
“Just you wait; one of these days, you’ll let me. Mark my words.” I doubt it, but who knows. After all, our relationship just became a little more complicated.
Angie conjures a fresh pair of clothes, ridding the dress she adamantly ripped off,and we embark towards my bed, getting started on a plan.
I remove the rose tucked beneath the thin slit of fabric above my left breast, eyeing its sparkle and acknowledging an outdoorsy scent flowing from its petals.
It smells just like him. Earthy and another unfamiliar scent… What is it?
My fingers rotate the stem, mesmerized by its shimmering glow, and a prick from its thorn draws blood. Damn it. Prone to obtaining all sorts of injuries, instinctively, I take my thumb between my lips with pinched brows, confused at how I didn’t notice the thorn at first.
Angie throws away a balled piece of paper and continues writing. I join her, leaving my rose sitting on the bedside stand, and for the next few hours, we go over failed plan after failed plan.
Soft blue light bathes us both in its hue, and without realizing, all my worries subside. Breathing feels easier, anguish is non-existent, and at least for now, I’m enjoying another night here at Rebirth Academy.
“Shit.” Angie disturbs our peace.
“What? Did something happen?” I see that she is now on her phone.
“No, nothing like that. I had an appointment that totally slipped my mind.”
“What kind of appointment do you have around this time?
“Dick,” she rebuts. Right, because that’s normal. Who doesn’t book dick appointments. Me, that’s who. She rushes to stand, smoothing out any wrinkles gathered from laying down.
“You’re serious?”
“I never joke about the fay fondler, Kyra.” She rolls her eyes as if I’m being dramatic.
So many questions manifest, but then again, why am I surprised?
Good for you. In this school of overly aggressive men, let’s hope there is one who is nice and gives good dick.
For her sake. As for me, I’ll pass. My ex showed me you can’t have both.
Either nice with bad dick, or bad with good dick…
Wait, why am I thinking about getting laid?
Exhaling, I chide myself because sex should be the furthest thing from my mind.
But my thoughts have other plans. Like Alex.
I recall the moment before we left and visualize his lips.
He has a pair that makes a girl dream of places he should put them.
Luscious…Incredibly pink…Curved… Kissable…
“Lickable.” My intrusive thoughts are spoken aloud .
Angie frowns, and a deep voice picks up, saving me from embarrassment.
“Hey, so sorry for being late. I ran into a little problem needing my assistance, are you still free?” she asks, placing a hand over her hip.
There is a short pause before she speaks again.
“Good, be there in a sec. I didn’t get a chance to grab my bag, so I hope you have your toys. See you soon.”
“Umm toys?” I ask after she hangs up. “And bag fooor?”
“My toys. There are too many to carry.” A nonchalant answer for my insane question, apparently. “Don’t you have a ‘pleasure me’ bag?”
“No, I don’t. And honestly, I don’t know anyone that does.” Sitting up, I face her fully.
“Well, you do now. Just don’t ask to borrow mine.”
“Gross. I’d never,” I scoff at her implication.
She conjures a sigil. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow.” With a wink, she vanishes. I’m sad to once again be alone despite Alex’s orders, but if anyone is getting lucky, at least it’s her.