Summary: Angela, Mike, and it's a dangerous thing kissing someone you shouldn't.
Author's Note: See profile. Unbeta-ed.
Disclaimer: Twilight. The Scorpions.
Your Love Is Going To Drown
Angela shifts in her seat, flips a page in her math text. Her fingers skim down the page, tap along the open spine. She tries focusing on an equation, but last Friday keeps popping into her mind. With a sigh, Angela shuts her school book and shoves it away. Once more she tries to push thoughts of Mike Newton and Friday night from her head, but it's useless. Sharp details keep popping up; a broken spring in a mattress pressing hard against her left shoulder, the guttural sounds that had rumbled their way up Mike's throat, her own heart beating wildly in her chest, Mike's tongue curling against the roof of her mouth, the pulse of The Scorpions' "Rock You Like A Hurricane" in her ears.
Angela turns in her chair, pulls her backpack up from where it rests at her feet. Setting the bag on her lap, she zips it open and rummages inside. She slips out a digital camera, turns it on and scrolls through the pictures until she reaches one of Mike Newton. He's smiling at the camera, eyes glassy in his drunken state. Tilting her head to the side, Angela squints down at the tiny screen, tries to pick out as many details as she can. Mike's hair is longer than it was last year, and there's a slight dimple on his right cheek. Behind him is a blurry Lauren running past. Angela presses the zoom button, moves the focus down to the collar of Mike's shirt. It's a dusty blue; Angela can recall the way it felt in her fingers as she'd pulled Mike closer to her body. Swallowing, she moves onto his neck. Pale, a dark brown mole located where neck and jaw meet. Angela remembers placing her lips there, one of Mike's hands slipping under her shirt as she did.
With a groan Angela turns the camera off and shoves it back into her backpack, slides the bag from her lap. With a heavy sigh, Angela gives in, shuts her eyes and rests her forehead on the edge of her desk. She lets her mind wander back to Friday night, Jessica storming into her room and demanding she go to the old Miller house for a party. She'd let Jessica dress her up, drag her to the old plantation home that always seemed out of place in the middle of the forest. When they'd arrived the teen population of Forks was hard at work consuming alcohol, and Lauren had promptly filled their hands with plastics cups full to the brim with beer. Soon, Angela had been lightheaded and laughing.
She remembers stumbling up a winding staircase, looking for a place to rest. She'd felt so tired, in need of just a few moments of rest. She'd been lucky to find an empty room. The bare mattress lying on the floor had looked inviting, and so Angela had pulled the thin sweater Jessica had insisted she wear off and collapsed onto the bed. She'd been half asleep, mind already beginning to dream up strange swirls of color, when she'd felt the mattress dip under added weight.
"Hey," a familiar voice had greeted. Angela had sleepily blinked back into consciousness, rolled onto her side and found Mike's blue eyes practically glowing in the half-light. "Ben's looking for you."
"Yeah?"
"Hm. I told him I'd check upstairs. Figured I'd find you here." Mike flopped onto his back, crossed his arms behind his head. "You've always been a sleepy drunk."
Angela had raised a fists, punched Mike halfheartedly on his side. "I am not."
"Sure," Mike had smiled. Angela settled back down, let her body relax limb by limb. Soon, she'd found herself being pulled back into the clutches of the dream world. "Hey, Ang, you awake?"
Angela had kept her eyes closed, mumbled "Barely."
"Remember the forth of July barbeque when we were seven? The one where you proposed to me?"
"I did no such thing."
"Course you did." There had been a pause, the mattress shifting beneath Angela. She'd opened her eyes, found Mike's face impossibly close. "You know, I still have the ring."
"I didn't give you a—" Angela's words had cut off abruptly as Mike's mouth had covered hers. Shifting in her seat, Angela lifts her head, shoves thoughts of Friday night and kisses with Mike Newton as far away as she can. There's a knock on her bedroom door. She turns to find Jessica entering the room. She drops her purse on the floor, toes off her shoes and climbs onto Angela's bed.
"Hey."
"Hi," Angela answers back cautiously. She wonders if Jessica knows. If Jessica somehow found out that she and Mike kissed last Friday down at the old Miller house. A nervous buddle settles itself down in the pit of Angela's stomach as she takes stock of Jessica's appearance. She doesn't appear angry, just tired. She stretches out across the mattress, pulls the green comforter over her tiny frame.
"I'm so tired," Jessica announces with a yawn, pressing her face into a pillow. "I've been working on the Adler paper all day. God, I hate English class. What teacher in their right mind assigns a huge paper a month before graduation? It doesn't make any sense." Jessica's eyes, which had closed during her rant, pop open. "What're you doing?"
"Math."
"Yuck." Jessica makes a face of disgust. "Another class I hate. Hey, you mind taking a break from it and having some one-on-one girl time with me?"
Angela bites her lip, glances down at the lined paper before her. She's barely on the second problem. "Okay."
"Good," Jessica grins. She sits up fully, pulls the blankets around her like a cloak. "I think I'm ready to have sex."
"What?" Angel asks, surprised. Her heart begins a double beat as she imagines Jessica leading Mike towards her daybed. She can picture it clearly, the both of them lying on the old quilt Angela and Jessica used to build forts with.
"Well, I've been going out with Mike for a while. I just figure it's time." Jessica explains. "I know he wants to, and I do too. I just…I don't know, I guess I need a second opinion or something. What do you think?"
"I think…I…God, Jess," Angela groans, dropping her face into open hands. "The last thing I want to think about right now is my best friend and Mike Newton getting it on."
"Sorry." A beat, then Jessica whines "Angela."
Angela gives another groan, fold her legs up to her chest, bare feet hanging off the end of her seat. Crossing her arms over her knees, she stares hard at Jessica's pleading face. 'Please' Jessica mouths, hands slipping out from her cocoon of blankets to clasp before her chest. Guilt and unease tickle away at Angela's inside, and she soon finds herself relenting. "Alright, fine. Just nothing too graphic, okay?"
"Cross my heart," Jessica smiles.