Reparation(21)

“I'm not. But in that moment, you didn't seem a whole lot better,” she whispered.

“Jesus, Tate, we've been back for a month, and you've been keeping this bottled up? The whole time? The three of us have been to dinner, for god's sake,” he pointed out. She cringed.

Yeah, and I wore a low-cut top and you stared at my tits and I thought her head was going to explode. Stupid boy.

“Sorry. Sanders has been bugging me to talk to you. I just ... I had it my head ... I wanted ...,” she let her voice trail off. It should have been enough, finally admitting out loud that she was upset. But her guilt was suddenly making itself known, knocking at the door to her conscience.

Helloooooo, you're a vile, evil bitch, and you owe it to him to tell him! Remember that swimming pool, hmmm!?

“Sanders knows about this, but I don't!? You talk to that fucking weirdo about our shit?” Ang snapped. She cut her eyes to him.

“Do not talk about him like that. Sanders is the best goddamn person I've ever met, in my entire life, and neither of us are even worthy of knowing him. Call him another fucking name, and I'll stab you with this fork,” she threatened him, holding up said fork.

“Christ, you have gone crazy.”

“Keep talking shit, and I'll show you crazy.”

Ang burst out laughing, and she eventually followed suit. Stab him with a fork!? Up until a month ago, she had never so much as hit anybody. Now she was brandishing flatware as weaponry.

I have gone crazy.

“I shouldn't have said that, Sanders is awesome. I'm just mad. You used to tell me all your secrets,” Ang sighed. She nodded.

“I know. I always tell you everything, hence why you should've known that fucking my sister would probably piss me off. You're my best friend with whom I've had sex with on multiple occasions. I've hated her for most of my life. What kind of sad, daytime soap opera were you trying to recreate?” she asked.

“A lame one. I don't know what to say, Tate. I didn't know it was still bothering you, that it even bothered you this much,” he told her. She took a deep breath. Being a bad girl hadn't worked; maybe she should shoot for sainthood and be completely honest.

“I know. I hid it really well, because I wanted ..., I wanted ...,” she kept trying to start.

“If it's something even you're nervous to say, then I am really scared,” he commented.

“I wanted to break you up. I wanted you to have sex with me, so I could rub it in her face. I was mad at Jameson, too, so I figured doing it in his bed would be like killing two birds with one stone. Tonight, I was going to convince you that I was in love with you, so you'd leave Ellie for me and Jameson would let me go. And then I was going to dump you. I wanted to make all of you regret fucking with me,” she explained quickly.

There. That wasn't so bad. And you only kinda-sorta sounded like the worst person ever.

“That is so fucked up,” Ang breathed. She nodded.

“I know.”

“I think you need help.”

“Me, too.”

“I can't believe it. That is so fucked up. After everything we've been through, last fall, the last five years, everything, and you would do that to me!?” he snapped.

“I had a very similar thought, when I walked in on you fucking her,” she snapped back.

“I didn't do that on purpose!” he practically shouted. “I have never done anything to intentionally hurt you!”

“Oh really? Remember that time you accidentily anger-banged Rusty? Cause I haven't forgotten that – she still texts me about you, you know. Pretty 'intentional',” Tate hissed at him. He turned a little red.

“Okay, well ... so ... Jameson is the goddamn devil, and you let him get away with murder!” he switched tactics. She laughed.

“Oh, no I don't. Not even a little. Not at all,” she replied, her voice low.

“You're a crazy fucking bitch,” Ang swore. She nodded.

“No shit.”

“If my phone hadn't rang, we would've had sex. And you would've told Jameson, and you would've rubbed it in Ellie's face. Would that really have made you happy?” he demanded.

“At the time, I thought so. Now ..., not so much. I don't want to hurt you. I'm ..., tired of being a crazy fucking bitch,” she finally laughed, and he chuckled as well. “I'm so tired, Ang. All the time. Tired, and lonely, and I feel like a crazy person. I hate it. I hate myself most of the time. Just ..., just tell me you didn't sleep with Ellie on purpose. Tell me it was an accident so I can save my soul.”

“I did not sleep with her on purpose. Why do you think I hid it for so long? I was ..., ashamed. Mad at myself. I knew you would hate me for it, Tate. I felt like a piece of shit. I'm really, really sorry,” he told her, reaching out and sliding his hand over hers.