His eyes followed me as I crossed the dance floor, as I moved left and right to avoid swaying couples. It felt good. It felt good to know I finally had his undivided attention. The only problem was what I had to do to get it. It bothered me. But I kept it to myself, coming to a stop a foot or two in front of the three. "Hey, guys," I greeted, plastering on a bright smile, keeping my tone bubbly. "Glad you could finally make it."
Archie looked dazed, eyes stuck on my face. "Diana...you look-"
"Amazing, I know. You can thank Cheryl for stuffing me into this little number," I joked, causing both Betty and Veronica to chuckle a little. "Wanna dance, Arch?"
"Yeah, sure."
He easily stepped away from the others, walking with me to the dance floor. I put my arms around his neck and his hands rested at the waist of my dress. We swayed to the music and I counted the colors in his eyes. At this point, I was trying to force the fairy tale on to even myself. But I didn't know just how much yet. I didn't realize how pathetic all of this was, how pointless.
The conversation between us was small talk, easy topics. Mostly about Football practice and how Polo went. The elephant remained firmly in the room until the music stopped and Cheryl began speaking on stage. Archie and I stopped dancing to listen, but I'd never felt so deflated. Maybe then wasn't the time? Maybe I was supposed to talk to him about it later? But, if that were true, why did I feel such a strong urge to scream it from a rooftop?
Cheryl introduced Josie and The Pussycats for a song. Archie looked like he was going to ask me to dance, but I told him I was going to get more punch. At the punch table it felt like I was falling apart. I didn't know what to do or what to say. I didn't know who I was standing there in that gym, dressed like a modern rendition of a Spice Girl and forcing myself to dance with my drifting away boyfriend.
After a moment, Cheryl approached me, and asked why I wasn't out dancing with Archie. "I'm just not feeling it," I admitted, shaking my head and staring longingly into my glass of punch. "You know, I thought...I thought I could be happy here tonight, but I'm just...not. I'm sorry, Cher."
She looked sympathetic, stepping forward to put her hand on my upper arm. "It's okay, Diana. I understand. Maybe you'll have more fun at my after party?"
"I don't know. I'll try but, no promises, okay?"
"Deal," she nodded once.
She smiled briefly before walking around me and disappearing. My lungs took in a deep breath and let it out as slowly as I could manage without feeling like I was about to die. Then my heart shot into my throat when a hand brushed my arm, followed by the sudden appearance of Archie, sliding left to stand in front of me. "Hey. Is everything okay?" he asked, skeptical. "You're not acting like yourself tonight. Did I do something wrong?"
I couldn't do anything but stare at him. He truly said what I thought he said, and it was one of the biggest mistakes he would ever make. Because I opened my mouth, and I didn't stop until I was finished. "Yes, Archie, you did. At Pop's? That was the first night we got to hang out together in weeks and you spent it staring at some other girl," I said, my voice raising a bit absentmindedly. I crossed my arms, watching his face drop. "Then, at school today, you weren't around. You barely looked at me when we were in the same room. Do you care about me, Archie?"
"Yes. Of course I care about you, Diana, you're my girlfriend," Archie said, like my question was absurd.
I inhaled, "Then show it. I'm an inch away from calling it quits tonight. If you can't act like you love me as easily as you breathe, then obviously this relationship isn't what it used to be."
That was it. That was the last thing I said to him before the after party. Probably because he knew not to try and comfort me when I was angry. Usually him crowding me out when I was upset made me feel worse. But I would've done anything for him to wrap his arms around me, call me baby, and tell me he'd be mine forever. I stood some feet apart from Archie as Cheryl explained that the game was going to be Seven Minutes In Heaven.
With the look of the people sitting on the couches, I didn't like my options. My chest had filled with dread long before the game actually started. And I think that was the point. Cheryl said, "Who wants to go first? I vote A, for Archie. Anyone second my vote?"
"What?" Archie's eyes went wide, and he glance at me a brief second, before continuing. "No, no-"
"Yes, Andrews. Yes," Reggie pointed in Archie's general direction, too drunk to see straight at this point.
Cheryl placed her empty bottle on the coffee table between the two couches. "Alright, ladies. Let's see who's riding the ginger stallion tonight," she said, before giving a flick of her wrist, sending the bottle spinning rapidly. What I didn't understand was how Cheryl thought this would be more fun for me. Maybe it was because she knew Archie and I were on egg shells? Maybe she thought getting him with someone else would make me realize it was already over?
Or maybe that was just my subconscious? Either way, I wasn't happy, nor did I look it. The bottle spun and spun and my crossed arms grew tighter. Then, finally, it stopped. On Veronica. "Well, all signs point to the new girl," Cheryl said, leaning into the back of the couch on her palms. "May I remind you that if you refuse, the hostess gets to take your turn."
My eyes shifted to Veronica. She was looking straight at me. Her whole demeanor was reluctant, unsure. But I didn't make any effort to tell her no. If Archie was going to go through with it, then obviously he was making his choice. If he didn't stand up to Cheryl, he didn't love me as much as he claimed to. Archie didn't say no. He didn't fight back. Maybe he took my unmoving stance as an okay to go into that closet with her, but either way, he did it.
As soon as the closet clicked shut, I was leaving Cheryl's house. I couldn't stand there for seven minutes and wait. I wouldn't. I deserved better. That's what I told myself, walking fast down the sidewalk through town. It was a fast walk. But then I was jogging. And that jog turning into a run as hot tears streamed down my blush-covered cheeks. Now, it was true. He didn't love me. And I convinced myself he never had.
Because, odds were, he didn't. I was a faze, something temporary. Just something to keep him warm until something better, something pretty, came along. And when she did, he didn't hesitate to throw me away. I hadn't known where I was going. Not until I slowed to a stop on a street corner on the South side, stopping only for a truck to drive by. Then I was moving again. I was walking fast along the sidewalk, following a path only known to my feet.
I didn't remember it through the haze of my tears until I was at the mail box. The gray mail box with a painted red barn on the side, and sticker letters spelling out CASSIDY. I hadn't known it when I left Cheryl's, but I was going home. It didn't dawn on me how long I'd been running until I reaching the top step before the porch and sat down. My legs felt like wet, limp noodles. I was exhausted, but I was still crying.
This was the worst of it, I told myself. This was as bad as it got. It had to be. But it wasn't. It wasn't the worst, because it was about to get better. I wouldn't figure it out until I went back to Ben's. Right then, I was too in pain to see good in anything. "Diana?" I heard a voice, but I didn't look up. It got lost in my mind faster than it was voiced. But then it came again, louder, closer. "Diana."
It sounded familiar. Did I care? No. I only placed my flat palms against my face, leaning my elbows into my thighs as I hunched over. "Hey, D," it was a loud bellow. The male speaking probably assumed I just couldn't hear him. Finally, I lifted my head. My face was anything but interested in conversation. But at the end of the walkway, just a few feet from the base of the stairs, stood Sweet Pea. I instantly looked down, embarrassed.
I looked terrible. This ugly dress, torn shoes, and unmatching jacket were bad enough. But then you add my smudged makeup and barely-holding-on mascara. It was like something out of a horror movie, that typical white woman that makes all the mistakes. "What do you want?" I asked, wiping at my cheeks with the insides of my wrists.
"Why are you crying? Did something happen?" he asked, genuinely concerned in his voice.
His voice also sounded closer, but I didn't bother looking up. I could tell he was close by the sound of his shoes on the paved walkway. Then they came into my line of sight at the base of the stairs. "Why do you care, lizard boy?" I questioned, with as much venom as my bitter heart had to offer at the time. "Don't you have some old granny to mug?"
"I'm going to choose to ignore that—once," he went up on the first step, then turned and sat in the open space to my left. Once he was settled, he answered my previous question. "I care because you're a Serpent. We take care of each other. And you're obviously not okay. Why are you crying?"
I made a sound, a mixture between a loud groan and a heavy sigh, and yanked my head up to look at him. "Long story short...my boyfriend's an idiot, and now he's not my boyfriend anymore."
"Give me a name."
It didn't hit me until I waited a second, observing his behavior. It was a sudden change. He was slowly ringing his hands, his forearms on his knees. His voice was an obvious mask to cover his rising anger. And I understood. He wanted a name so he would know who to hunt down and beat within an inch of their life. "I don't want you to hurt him," I immediately shook my head.
Sweet Pea turned in his position to better see me. "Anyone that hurts you, hurts the rest of us," he pressed, more anger in his tone than seconds before when he spoke. "That's how it works. We don't take this lightly, Diana. Fine. I won't hurt him. But when FP finds out-"
"You wouldn't dare," I interjected, raising my voice a bit.
"What do you want me to do, huh? Lie? We don't do that here."
I took in a deep breath, let it out, readjusted my position, and tried to stay calm. "Just, please, Sweet Pea...calm down. I'm a big girl, okay? If some jock breaks my heart, I can deal with it on my own. I don't need someone fighting my battles for me," my voice was a bit angered, but it deflated to nothing as I grew closer to the finish. "Thank you for the offer, really. But not this time. Okay?"
It was softer than I would've liked. I chalked it up to the exhaustion and emotional trauma. Sweet Pea stared at me a second, unchanging. Then he puffed out an exhale as he looked away, turning to sit straight forward again. "Alright. At least let me take you home," he offered, a moment later, only turning his head to see me this time.
"You drive? Are you even legal yet?" I asked, raising an eyebrow with a bit of sarcasm.
My attempt at joking came off as sad, tired. Mostly because that's how I felt. A smirk came to his face and I found myself taking another deep breath. "Legality kind of flies out the window the second you join," he replied. "I don't drive a car. It's a motorcycle."
Once again, I wiped at my wet cheeks with my wrists, sniffling. "Sure, why not? I've got nothing left to lose at this point."
He stood from the steps, walking down the four of them before reaching the walkway. I pushed myself up off the step, pausing upon seeing his outstretched hand. Offering me help down the steps. It was unexpected. I mean, the steps were a bit unstable, and they creaked under shifting weight, but they weren't dangerous. Either way, I took the offer, sliding my hand in his. My palm was immediately met by the cool metal of the rings on his fingers.
It was a stark contrast to the warmth of his hands. I tried not to act like I noticed as I walked down the short steps. A bit reluctant, I let him go at the bottom, and he followed me on the walkway toward the road. Upon stepping outside the knee-high white fence surrounding my old front yard, I saw that his motorcycle was parked just down the road to the right, near the corner. A ghost of what could've been a smile shown on my lips then.
"I haven't been on a motorcycle in years," I said, huffing an empty sounding chuckle at my own words.
We were at the motorcycle in a matter of seconds, arriving just after I spoke. "Should be fun for you, then," he commented, before swinging his leg over the bike, sitting on the seat. He tipped his head to the left in a gesture, adding, "Hop on."
It felt like a dream. It didn't feel like reality, standing there in front of a South Side Serpent while he told me to get on his bike with him. Especially not a tall, dark, and growing on me Serpent. That dreamy feeling of it all made me unable to hide a small smile as I walked closer to the bike. I swung my leg over, settling on the back behind him, easily sliding my arms around his middle as he kicked up the stand. "Hold on tight," he said, revving up the motorcycle.
That wasn't going to be a problem. As the bike moved forward, I clutched on tighter, almost too tight. In my defense, I hadn't ridden a bike in almost two years. I've only ridden on the back of a bike with someone else driving a small handful of times in my life. Most of those were with my father. Some were with FP. I found myself relaxing on the thought of those times. When I was running late for school, and FP picked me up at the house.
When dad was going to the Wyrm while mom was at work and had no one to watch me. I lived and breathed motorcycles. The ride to my house didn't take long. It was shorter than I anticipated, shorter than I would have liked. If I was being honest with myself, I would say this was the most comfortable, most whole I've felt in a long time. But I wasn't being honest. He turned off the motorcycle just down the street from the house.
As soon as it was off, so was I. I was on the sidewalk in a heart beat, but I didn't leave, not yet. "How did you know I'd be at that house?" I asked, curiously, sidestepping to be in his line of sight, seeing as he still remained on the bike.
He shook his head, but wore a loose smirk. "I didn't."
"Uh huh..." I narrowed my eyes, looking at him skeptically. But on a sudden burst of confidence, I smoothed out my features, giving a small and closed-mouthed smile. "Want my phone number? You know...in case I need another armed escort home?"
It seemed to be more obvious that I was faking the reason than I was going for. But, either way, it worked. His smirk only grew as he dug a cell phone from his Serpent jacket pocket. As he hit whatever buttons needed to make a new contact for my number, I second guessed myself. What was I doing? Something really stupid. But I wanted to do it. So I did. Finally, just doing something because I wanted to, after two years of holding myself back.
This was something I wanted, but it was also something I needed. When I saw he was ready, I listed off my number, and he added it in. Once I had mine set up, he told me his number, and I added it into my contacts. I didn't list a name. If I did, and someone took my phone, they would know who I was talking to. So I only used a snake emoji in place of the contact name. "If you need anything, call whenever," he offered, sliding away his phone.
It was an ordinary offer. But there was a confidence to his tone, a cocky air to his demeanor that was openly flirtatious. "Careful, lizard boy," I warned, light-heartedly. I said it taking steps backward, using the tone I'd reserved for flirting with Archie. I hadn't needed it for anyone else before then. "If you say 'anything', I might actually take you up on it."
He cracked a smile, the right side of his lips tugging up as he huffed a chuckle, a sound that warmed my skin. Before speaking again, he started up the bike. "Goodnight, Diana," he said, over the hum of the motorcycle. "Stay out of trouble, alright?"
Halfway to the steps, I gave a small wave, keeping that small smile I knew used to be worth something. "Goodnight, Sweet Pea."