Chapter 28

Fang POV

"Oh, Hell no," I refused, shaking my head. "There is no way in Hell you can force me into that thing!" Before me, lay a plaid skirt, sprawled on Iggy's loft bunk bed. He thought, somehow, that his 'prize' for beating me in our spin-off of Silent Library was getting me to wear this? All day? "It's a freaking skirt!"

"It's a kilt," he corrected me, smirking. "And, you have to -I won."

"Technically, you cheated," I pointed out, holding tightly to the ladder on the side of his bed. Curse Iggy for taking the top bunk. "And, I'm not doing it, end of discussion."

"Don't make me tell Max about the time you watched her sleep," he smirked. "Edward Cullen."

I glared at him, responding. "You wouldn't." He shook his head, closing his eyes.

"You should never underestimate me, dear Fangy boy," he chuckled, crossing his arms. "Or, I could tell Max about that time when you-"

"Fine!" I interrupted him quickly, gritting my teeth together. "Give me the fucking skirt," I grimaced, staring at the thing.

"Okay!" He happily tossed me the heavy fabric, throwing off my balance, and knocking me off the ladder and onto the ground. "Oh, and, it's a kilt, by the way," he smiled, winking.

Gazzy POV

"Please, please, please, please, please, PLEASE!" I begged, making my lip tremble. Max sighed, trying not to give into my puppy-dog eyes. I'll admit, Nudge can do it much better than me, but, Max is pretty much a softie for all of us. Most of the time.

"I don't know, Gaz," she mumbled, biting her lip. I secretly motioned for Nudge to join me, holding three fingers up behind my back. The cheerful, caramel colored tween appeared next to me, dramatically clinging to Max's leg.

"Oh, please, Max," she begged, blinking her massively poetic, chocolate eyes. "We've barely gotten to live! Let us go to the parade, just this once." Max, who made the mistake of looking down at us, cracked immediately.

"I'll go ask my mom," she muttered in defeat, drifting away.

"YES!" I cheered, gloriously high-fiving Nudge.

Max POV

I sauntered down the hallway, feeling useless and soft. I can't even say no to a nine and twelve year old! What is wrong with m-

My thoughts were interrupted momentarily by a flash of long, dark, choppy hair peeking out of Fang's bedroom door. Within seconds, the door slammed closed, and I stood before it, utterly confused. "Fang?"

A choked, nervous sound came from behind the door, making me even more curious. "Fang, what the Hell are you doing?" I asked, more impatiently this time.

The door was pushed slightly ajar as his head stuck out, something along the lines of fear present in the dark, black orbs of his eyes. His hair was ruffled partly from bed-head and also partly from abruptly leaving the hall; overall, extremely sexy. "Uh, nothing," he lied, looking around nervously.

"You're a very bad liar," I smirked, trying to pull his bedroom door open all the way. He quickly held the door steady, shaking his head.

"No, no, no, I'm uh, naked," he admitted shyly. I raised my eye brow, crossing my arms.

"I've seen you naked hundreds of times," I argued bluntly. "But, if you have to get dressed, I guess I understand," I smirked, leaning in to kiss him. As I expected, he absentmindedly let the door swing open, reaching out to kiss me fiercely. Reluctant to release from his strong, warm embrace, I pushed away. "AH, HA!"

He looked down at the same time I did, and then, I saw what he was trying so hard to hide. A skirt? "What the-?"

"Hey, I don't know what kind of weird fantasy this is between you too, but, can you take it to the bedroom? Thanks," Ella commented, snorting as she trudged down the stairs. I shot her the bird, rolling my eyes, still laughing at her snide comment.

Turning back to Fang, I barely managed to contain my laughter. Imagine a dark, handsome, mysterious, arrogantly cocky winged male. Now, picture him in a plaid skirt. Yeah, it's definitely a Kodak moment. "Um, Fang. What's up with the skirt?" I managed, giggling.

"Fucking Iggy," he breathed through gritted teeth. I fingered the hem of it, lips brushing against his ear as I leaned in.

"I always knew I wore the pants in our relationship."


The scent of freshly made funnel cakes and caramel apples filled the air, drifting through the crowded streets of Downtown Mesa, Arizona. Everyone, although scattered throughout the long roadway, had gathered for the annual Mardi gras parade. "It smells wonderful," Iggy sighed, rubbing his stomach. It was around three o' clock in the afternoon, the sun blazing brightly overhead.

I motioned for the five of us to join behind the wall of a shop on the street, pulling out a wad of dollar bills. We had left Total home with my mom, who was joining us later, because he had felt sick lately, and she had to work until later.

"Nice skirt, Fang," Gazzy chortled, not even bothering to stifle his laughter. Nudge and Angel giggled as Iggy slapped Gaz a high-five.

"Kilt," Fang muttered, blushing. "It's a kilt."

"Anyways," Iggy began, taking a more serious tone. "We should split up, so, we can cover more ground," he suggested.

"Okay. My mom gave us fifty dollars," I announced. "So, we'll split up and meet back here at four, when the parade starts."

Iggy and Gazzy both were already huddled, discussing their plans for the hour. "Psst, Nudge," Iggy called, beckoning for her to join their huddle. Angel walked over to Fang and me, sweetly taking each of our hands, so that she could walk in between us.

I handed Iggy twenty-five of the fifty dollars, gripping Angel's small, soft hand, with Fang taking her other. I couldn't help but to be overcome with the feeling that this could be glimpse into Fang's and my future; although, I never imagined it would include Fang wearing a kilt.

Iggy POV

Pushing through the crowd, linking arms with Gazzy and Nudge, I made my way to the melody of harmonious bagpipes. As we neared the origin of the music, I explained everything to the two of them.

"The Scottish festival is a part of the Mardi gra's parade held every year, in which Scottish culture is shared. Stuff like bagpipes, kilts, and whiskey fill this section of the street," I nearly yelled over the rush of people, sounding like a tour guide. "As you could see, I managed to convince Fang to wear a kilt, today." I rubbed my hands together excitedly, grinning deviously. "Angel will be leading them to this exact location, but, now, it's our job to make him suffer."


Gazzy led us to a stage in the middle of the courtyard, weaving in-between people who were dancing along to the music. Just as the song ended, the band, one from our high school, announced that they we're taking a twenty minute break. Earlier, I had instructed Nudge on my plans for the evening. Now, she was sneakily climbing on stage, to the lead bagpiper...bagpipist...the guy with the bagpipe. But, because of the distance between the two of us, I could no longer hear her voice.

A short time later, she reappeared before Gazzy and me, panting lightly. "They'll do it!" I smiled, thanking her.

"You've done well, young grasshopper."

Fang POV

Embarrassed, I hid behind a nearby sign, crossing my arms and glaring at Max. How could she be in on this? Boy, would she get it later.

But, how could I possibly stay mad at someone so naturally...stunning?

Not just by looks, but, so much more. The way she let loose around Angel, maternal instincts coming to her so easily and perfect. Her carefree laugh as she stuffed funnel cake past her soft, rose colored lips; powdery sugar coating the creases of her mouth. And, the way she held my hand, like she never wanted to let go. (And, trust me; I never wanted her too, either.)

It was impossible.

"Oh, come on, Fang," she chuckled, gesturing to the kilt. "I kind of like it."

"It's too drafty," I admitted uncomfortably, nudging her side. Euphonious music drifted down the street, filling the air. It took a moment for me to recognize the sound, because, truly, the only instrument I was familiar with was a guitar. And, I can barely play three notes correctly.

"Bagpipes," Angel confirmed intelligently, smiling sweetly up at us. "Can we go see them?"

"Sure," Max gave in, ruffling her bouncy, blonde curls.


"Max!" Nudge chirped, calling to her from across the courtyard we all, somehow, ended up together in. We met up in front of a stage, surrounded by a scattered group of bystanders here and there. A few had drinks, loosely holding them as they waited for a band of some sort to come onto the stage. "Funny seeing you here, I mean what's that saying? It's a small world, after all? Yeah... Or is that that Disney World ride? Hey, remember when we went to Disney World? That was SO much fun! We should, like, tot-"

Iggy slapped his hand over her mouth and she shrugged guiltily in response, twirling a piece of her dark, curly hair. People passing gave me less-strange looks in this section of the parade, which is scary and reassuring. Do men just randomly walk around in skirts around here?

As the 'band' made their way to the stage, my question was answered. A multitude of guys our age were preparing their bagpipes, each wearing a kilt identical to mine. It wasn't until then that I noticed the banner hanging over the stage had over school name and logo on it. Shit.

One of the men held the microphone close to his mouth, speaking with a husky voice. "Before we can get started, there's one more bagpiper out there," he said, scanning the crowd. "Does anyone see him?"

"Right over here!" Iggy shouted, involuntary raising my hand for me. The man with the microphone happily waved me up onto the stage and, reluctantly, I went, uselessly shooting Iggy the bird. He seemed to mutter something like, "So, it is 'bagpiper'," but, I was too far into the crowd to hear him.

In no time, someone threw me a bagpipe, and they began to play. I watched them all play for a while, perfectly in synch and in tune. Then, they each took turns doing solo pieces, and, I barely felt the man nudging me; telling me that it was my turn to play a solo. Feeling rushed, embarrassed, and inspired, I desperately attempted to replicate the movements they made, failing miserably. It sounded more as if I was strumming a dead cat.

When the skit finally ended and I was released to stumble off stage, the rest of the Flock was still laughing hysterically. "Oh, shut up you bastards," I mumbled.

Iggy hastily shoved something behind his back as I approached them, but, I shrugged it off, afraid of the many, many possibilities.

"L-langue," Max laughed, exasperated. Just then, Dr. Martinez appeared, waving to us.

"Hey, what'd I miss?" she asked, jamming her car keys in her purse. Max told her that the parade started at four, which was ten minutes from then.

"But, I'm feeling a little sick," Max grimaced, rubbing her stomach. I instinctively took her hand, frowning. "So, I was hoping I could go home, and, see you guys later."

Her mother nodded, looking concerned. "Well, take Fang to keep you company," she directed. "Love you."

"Love you too, Mom."


"Are you sure you're all right?" I asked Max again, pulling her into my lap. We were lying on my black bed spread, fan clanking lightly above us.

"Yes, Fang, that was a lie," she smirked, rolling her eyes. "Ever heard of one?"

I stuck my tongue out at her, rubbing the small of her back. "Then, why'd you lie?" I asked curiously.

"I wanted to talk with you," she admitted, looking straight into my eyes. I nodded, keeping our gaze locked. "You know how we learned about Lent in church last Sunday? Well, I've been thinking, and, I've decided what we should give up."

"And, what is that?" I questioned, stretching my arms behind my head.

"Sex," she replied, biting her lip.

A lump formed in my throat. "What?" She smirked, running her fingers through her hair.

"Well, we are awfully young, and I think it's best for the baby, too," she mentioned, shrugging. I peered at the lump on her belly, feeling remorse, but, also mainly happiness.

"I agree," I whispered, somewhat reluctant. Her eyes lit up, a smile spreading across her lips. She leaned in, pecking my lips lightly.

"I'm so glad you understand, and trust me, I'll miss the sex, too," she reassured me, winking. "You're very satisfying."

A dark chuckle emitted from my throat, complimented by my smirk. "And, since technically, Lent doesn't start until tomorrow, do you think we could..." I trailed off, fingering the hem of her shirt.

She nodded vigorously, smiling. "That's what I was thinking."

I know, I know. It takes me forever to write anything, lol. But, hey. This chapter was really long AND there were no Rebecca Black references ;) Well, until now…shoot. Haha, RnR and happy belated Mother's Day!