Author's Note: Thanks to all of you who have offered the great reviews. I'd be interested to learn some of your predictions and/or hopes for the characters in this story, if you're willing to offer them. Anyway, I appreciate the encouragement. Hope you enjoy Chapter Eight!


Chapter Eight

"She kept my sleeve."

Mark's racing thoughts were interrupted by Collins' deep voice.

"What?" Mark asked, startled.

"My sleeve. Angel kept my freaking sleeve." Collins' long legs were sprawled out on the cold concrete floor, his back and head leaning against the wall. Mark hadn't seen him look so helpless since Angel's funeral.

"What sleeve?"

"My sleeve…from that night…" Collins peered into the darkness blankly.

Mark scratched his head, confused, and took a seat next to his friend. "What happened?"

"It was that Christmas Eve that I came back from M.I.T. Those guys jumped me looking for – money, I guess. I didn't have any so they took my coat. This sleeve…" he held the coat sleeve up in demonstration, "…was the only thing they didn't get. It must've ripped when they grabbed my coat. That was the night Angel saved me. The night we met…" His eyes gleamed with simultaneous joy and sadness. He chortled quietly and briefly, and then heaved a pitiful sigh. "I had no idea she kept it."

Mark sat speechless for a moment. He too missed Angel. She had been upbeat and positive; charming and witty. Angel had brought out the best in each of the Bohemian cronies. She had inspired them to strive for greatness. And she had taught them that petty differences could be put aside when it came to true friendships. Her death, it seemed, had established a rift between them all; a rift that Mark was unsure how to mend. He hung his head and breathed deeply, wondering how to console Collins when he himself was still hurting.

"How do I…" Collins stumbled over his words. "I want to remember, but at the same time, I want to forget. Remembering makes me miss her, and I miss her so much that it hurts. I don't know how to make the hurt go away." Collins dabbed his eyes with the worn coat sleeve. "It's too hard, man. It's just too hard."

The pair once again fell into silence. Mark let his mind drift from the thought of Angel. He couldn't bear to think about her anymore, either. "I kissed Maureen," he blurted out, not really intending to vocalize his thoughts.

"What?" Collins smiled, appearing relieved for the fresh subject mater.

"I kissed Maureen…Actually she kissed me and I, sort of, kissed her back." Mark cringed as he awaited Collins' reply.

"You still love her!" Collins accused jokingly.

"No!" Mark insisted as Collins chuckled deeply. "I shouldn't have told you. It just sort of…happened."

"So what are you going to do?" Collins questioned once his laughter had subsided.

"Nothing I guess…I don't know…What should I do?" Mark brought his knees up to his chest and dropped his head.

"Well that depends on how you feel about her," Collins replied, still grinning. "See, if you…"

"What's going on in here?" Roger's voice asked in a singsong manner. He swaggered into the room and took a seat on the edge of the bed, facing Mark and Collins.

"I'm just counseling my good friend Mark," Collins told him, smiling smugly. Then, after a pause, "He kissed Maureen."

"What?!?" Roger's mouth gaped open. Collins chuckled heartily, loosely covering his mouth with his forearm. Mark's eyebrows furrowed in a pout. Roger stared at Mark hard, awaiting some kind of explanation.

"We – just – we went for a walk," Mark began, "and Maureen just starts pouring her heart out to me. She was upset about Joanne and just needed somebody to talk to, I suppose. Anyway, I listened to her, assured her that everything would be fine, and bought her a soda. Then we came home, and all of a sudden, she kisses me."

"But you kissed her back," Collins reminded him.

Why did Collins have to be so damn haughty? Mark suppressed his anger, trying not to let his frustration show. He couldn't be upset with Collins. This was his own fault. He never should have mentioned the kiss…to anyone. "It was no big deal."

"No big deal?" Roger scoffed. "Are you kidding?"

"It didn't mean anything," Mark told them…and himself.

"How could she do that to you?" Roger was not half as amused as Collins. In fact, he seemed angry.

"Roger—" Mark attempted to assure him that things were fine.

"No! Maureen thinks she can just waltz in here, cause a big uproar, and have nobody call her on it! It's ridiculous! Why would she do something like that? She knows you're still not over her!"

"But I am over her!" Mark objected.

"Mark, man," Collins shook his head. "You're in denial."

"Yeah," Roger added. "You let Maureen walk all over you. You've always let Maureen walk all over you. Can't you see? She comes to find you when she has nothing better to do."

"Or no one better to do." Collins smiled a bit.

"Well don't fall for it," Roger advised. "Don't let her suck you back in."

"Don't worry," Mark said, a bit disappointed at his friends' advice. "I refuse to fall for Maureen Johnson ever again."

Mark bit his bottom lip in dismay. He hoped he had convinced Roger and Collins that he had no romantic feelings for Maureen…Mark's heart, however, would need a little more convincing.