...”
Tate would convince Ang that she was in love with him. They had danced in and out of the friend zone for years – she was very confident that the temptation to call her his own, to win her from Jameson, would be enough to make Ang leave Ellie. Dump her, for Tatum. History, repeating itself. And Jameson hated sharing his toys, hated Ang, hated love. He had fought to win back his fuck-toy, but he wouldn't fight for her affections.
She had to believe that.
“No big deal. How are you? Haven't seen you in forever,” she laughed, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.
“Yeah, well, ever since you pulled your weird, satanic, seduction act on me, I've been afraid for my soul,” Ang explained.
You don't know how close you are to the truth, Ang. Run far, far away from me.
“Oh shut up, you loved it,” she teased before they were interrupted by a waiter.
They chatted. They flirted. She made a lot of very direct eye contact. Felt a lot like throwing up. Really wanted to drink. But she kept on smiling. Kept laying it on thick. Ang would have no clue what hit him.
“So I gotta ask,” he started, after their plates had been taken away. Tate leaned across the table, smiling big. “What the hell is going on?”
Apparently he has a big fucking clue. You're as subtle as a baseball bat to the head, you dumb bitch.
“What do you mean?” Tate asked, trying to feign innocence.
“You're wearing your titty-mcgee shirt, flirting like it's an Olympic sport, and smiling like some creepy doll. What the fuck is going on?” Ang demanded. She swallowed thickly, shaking her head.
“Nothing, I don't know what -,”
“We have met, you know. Sometimes I think you don't realize that. I know you, bitch. I know what's normal, and what's not normal. And the way you've been acting lately, I'm pretty sure you couldn't even spell ' normal ' if I asked you to,” he stated.
Something snapped. She almost thought she could hear it, her sanity breaking. Echoing between her ears.
“You obviously don't know me that well,” she said in a loud voice. Ang's eyebrows shot up.
“Excuse me? Tate, I've known you for almost six years. We practically see each other every day. I'd say I know you pretty well,” he countered.
“But not well enough to know when I'm pissed the fuck off. ”
“You're pissed off?” he clarified.
“Yes.”
“About what?”
“I'm pissed that you're a complete asshole,” she blurted out.
See. There's that filter problem again. Maybe you should see a doctor about it.
“ Me!? ” he exclaimed, pointing at himself. She nodded.
“Yes. A huge asshole. And that makes me mad. Like, so mad ... I can't ... I want ... you ...,” she began breathing hard, waving her hand as she searched for words.
“What did I do!? Is this cause I wouldn't fuck you!?” he demanded. Several tables turned to look at them.
She had gone too far. Couldn't pull back now. She had finally hit the bottom of the rabbit hole.
One sip makes you big, and one makes you small. One makes you sane, and one makes you crazy. Time to make a choice.
“No, no, that's not it,” she replied, nervously running her hands through her hair. Cold hearted revenge had been on the menu, not frank honesty. She wasn't quite ready for this meal.
“Then what the fuck did I do!?” he threw his hands up. She took a deep breath. Tried to imagine Sanders' voice, telling her what to do. Telling her to just say everything.
“You. Ellie. I am not okay with this,” Tate breathed quickly.
“You're still upset about that!? ” Ang all but shouted.
“Yes.”
“But ..., when we were on the plane! You cried! You said it was okay!” he reminded her, a bewildered look in his eye. She nodded.
“I know. I lied.”
“Why!?”
“Because, I wanted to hurt you back,” she mumbled, looking down at the table. He leaned forward.
“I'm sorry. Wait. Back up. Please explain exactly, what the fuck , you're talking about,” he told her. She took another
Tate would convince Ang that she was in love with him. They had danced in and out of the friend zone for years – she was very confident that the temptation to call her his own, to win her from Jameson, would be enough to make Ang leave Ellie. Dump her, for Tatum. History, repeating itself. And Jameson hated sharing his toys, hated Ang, hated love. He had fought to win back his fuck-toy, but he wouldn't fight for her affections.
She had to believe that.
“No big deal. How are you? Haven't seen you in forever,” she laughed, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.
“Yeah, well, ever since you pulled your weird, satanic, seduction act on me, I've been afraid for my soul,” Ang explained.
You don't know how close you are to the truth, Ang. Run far, far away from me.
“Oh shut up, you loved it,” she teased before they were interrupted by a waiter.
They chatted. They flirted. She made a lot of very direct eye contact. Felt a lot like throwing up. Really wanted to drink. But she kept on smiling. Kept laying it on thick. Ang would have no clue what hit him.
“So I gotta ask,” he started, after their plates had been taken away. Tate leaned across the table, smiling big. “What the hell is going on?”
Apparently he has a big fucking clue. You're as subtle as a baseball bat to the head, you dumb bitch.
“What do you mean?” Tate asked, trying to feign innocence.
“You're wearing your titty-mcgee shirt, flirting like it's an Olympic sport, and smiling like some creepy doll. What the fuck is going on?” Ang demanded. She swallowed thickly, shaking her head.
“Nothing, I don't know what -,”
“We have met, you know. Sometimes I think you don't realize that. I know you, bitch. I know what's normal, and what's not normal. And the way you've been acting lately, I'm pretty sure you couldn't even spell ' normal ' if I asked you to,” he stated.
Something snapped. She almost thought she could hear it, her sanity breaking. Echoing between her ears.
“You obviously don't know me that well,” she said in a loud voice. Ang's eyebrows shot up.
“Excuse me? Tate, I've known you for almost six years. We practically see each other every day. I'd say I know you pretty well,” he countered.
“But not well enough to know when I'm pissed the fuck off. ”
“You're pissed off?” he clarified.
“Yes.”
“About what?”
“I'm pissed that you're a complete asshole,” she blurted out.
See. There's that filter problem again. Maybe you should see a doctor about it.
“ Me!? ” he exclaimed, pointing at himself. She nodded.
“Yes. A huge asshole. And that makes me mad. Like, so mad ... I can't ... I want ... you ...,” she began breathing hard, waving her hand as she searched for words.
“What did I do!? Is this cause I wouldn't fuck you!?” he demanded. Several tables turned to look at them.
She had gone too far. Couldn't pull back now. She had finally hit the bottom of the rabbit hole.
One sip makes you big, and one makes you small. One makes you sane, and one makes you crazy. Time to make a choice.
“No, no, that's not it,” she replied, nervously running her hands through her hair. Cold hearted revenge had been on the menu, not frank honesty. She wasn't quite ready for this meal.
“Then what the fuck did I do!?” he threw his hands up. She took a deep breath. Tried to imagine Sanders' voice, telling her what to do. Telling her to just say everything.
“You. Ellie. I am not okay with this,” Tate breathed quickly.
“You're still upset about that!? ” Ang all but shouted.
“Yes.”
“But ..., when we were on the plane! You cried! You said it was okay!” he reminded her, a bewildered look in his eye. She nodded.
“I know. I lied.”
“Why!?”
“Because, I wanted to hurt you back,” she mumbled, looking down at the table. He leaned forward.
“I'm sorry. Wait. Back up. Please explain exactly, what the fuck , you're talking about,” he told her. She took another
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