I have no fucking clue.
Tate finally managed to shove Ang off, breaking the kiss. But he kept his arms around her, swinging her around so his back was to Ellie, Tate almost bending in half backwards. She glared at him, shoving at his hand as it worked its way over her breasts.
“What are you doing!? Jameson is gonna kill you!” Tate hissed, all while Ellie shouted behind them.
“Just go with it!” Ang growled, then kissed her again.
“Angier!” Ellie shrieked.
Tate shoved him hard, finally gaining arm distance between them. She glared at him, wiping at her mouth. He smirked back. Ellie fumed in front of him. How come when Tate wanted to break them up by having dirty, nasty, fun time with Ang, it wasn't okay – but suddenly he wants to suck her face off to make Ellie mad, and it's fine!?
“What's up?” he asked casually, turning to face Ellie.
“Are you kidding me!?” she demanded before turning towards Tate. “And you! I thought this was, like, against the rules or something! You're such a slut!”
“Hey!” Tate snapped. “Technically, what I do is none of your business. And second of all, pretending to like some guy just to fuck him is pretty goddamn slutty!”
“It becomes my business when you make out with my ...,” Ellie's voice trailed off, her face turning red.
“Your what, Ellie? You just explained to me how I'm nothing more than sex to you,” Ang pointed out.
“No! We just said that's all we are, to each other,” she stressed, waving her purse between them.
“Yeah. So, I think that means I can make out with whoever I want,” he replied, coiling his arm around Tate's waist. She began smacking him in the chest.
“This is sick. You two are sick. I'm getting out of here. I hope you're happy together, you ..., sluts,” Ellie cursed, then stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
“That was pretty awesome,” Ang laughed, still holding onto Tate. She shoved at him.
“No it wasn't! A little warning, maybe, next time you feel like shoving your tongue clear down to my stomach!” she snapped at him.
“Oh c'mon, you always loved lots of tongue,” he reminded her. She snorted, trying to pull free from him.
“Shut up. This is so fucked, you know that, right? I try to sex you up to piss Ellie off and I'm a bad person, but you get to do it and it's no big deal!?” she pointed out.
“It's completely different. You and I are a team – you can't make plays against me.”
“You're retarded.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up!”
He grabbed her then, pulled her into a hug. Tate was a little shocked at first, then she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. Ang sighed into her hair. He had really liked Ellie. Shocking. No one seemed to like Ellie, and Tate's best friend had gone and fallen in total-like with her. She was a little miffed at being used, but her heart hurt a little for him.
“Oh, Angy wangy,” she sighed.
“Tater tot,” he mumbled back.
“That was very bad. You shouldn't have done that. We're bad people,” she whispered to him. He shook his head.
“No we're not. We're not very good, but we're not bad. She's a bitch and we're spiteful. Everyone wins,” he replied.
“I don't know if I agree with you. But it was fun,” she chuckled, combing her hand through his hair.
“Yes, it was. God, we used to have so much fun. Do you ever think about it?” Ang asked. Tate nodded, pressing her cheek against his chest.
“All the time. Every time I saw you with her,” she replied.
“Jealous?”
“Of course. Part of you belongs to me. I never wanted to share that with her.”
“I gotta say, Tate, it feels fucking awesome to hear that,” he groaned. She wiggled against him, trying to pull free. His arms stayed locked around her.
“Good. Cause I think now we are finally, officially, completely, even. For everything. No more being mad at each other? Or weird?” she asked. He nodded.
“No more.”
“Ang?”
“Yeah?”
“Let go of me. Your hard on is digging into my stomach.”
He burst out laughing.
“Now there's something I never thought I'd hear you complain about.”
“Shut up. Makes having a heart to heart kinda awkward.”
“You love it.”
Ang let go of her and groaned, stretching and lifting his arms over his head. Tate dug her cell phone out of her pocket and winced. A missed phone call. She could guess who it was from; he was already mad at her for missing his calls the day before, he would not be happy about her missing them for Ang. She still had only ever called him once, just one time ever. When he had been in Berlin. He hadn't answered. She had resisted doing it again, ever since then. She debated whether or not to take the leap.