Devotion

seven ﾒ we kill here, not cry over the killing

LUCA

Last night was a devious mistake. I have fallen to a new low; someone call my bluff. Because this was a mistake, everything from the negotiation to this is a mistake.

I had woken up early, just to prepare for the blood-curdling screams that were about to set loose in my apartment. Two girls, different bedrooms. One happening to lay right beside me.

Even the next day later, after my frat brothers made the impulse decision to throw a party and invite everyone from Barnard, NYU, and Columbia. Usually, they never do this, but it happened. I don't even recall what happened, and I was sober for most of it.

I had smoked a joint or two to ease the pain, you know, party, and attempt to let loose. But all that ended early when I encountered a plastered Angelica sitting on the hard, cold marble floors.

Something in my head wanted to get fairly close and talk to her, but she's so caught up in this academic rivalry we've been in since God remembers when.

I mean, I'm not that fond of her and the bloodline she shares a surname with, but I don't necessarily hate her presence.

She's a cute little woman sometimes, even when upset. She's also annoying to be around. But she is also amusing.

Her fragrance instantly fills my bedroom-my bed, to be exact. Angelica's sprawled across the left edge of my bed, dressed in my sweatshirt and basketball shorts. This is criminal sleeping with the enemy.

My father always warned me not to fall under the De Santis spell, as he had done thirty years ago with Angelica's mother.

I'm not; I was just doing something nice for once. I swear.

Miss Dior is falling under my nostrils at rapid speed when I notice she moves closer to my body, the comforter covering only certain parts of her room. Christ, I can't do this.

Then, I feel a soft, delicate hand race across my chest in a gentle manner. I watch her slowly wake up and come to terms with the fact that she's about to scream and possibly kill me for bringing her into my bed.

Her hand moves downward until I notice a light green iris appear. She's awake. "What the-" She groans, pressing her forehead against my body to lift herself.

When she registers where exactly she's at and who she's with, an immediate groan is made. "You can't be serious," she murmurs, scooting down to the edge. "What the actual hell?" I also lift myself up and watch her look around for her dress.

She turns in my direction. "Please tell me you didn't. We didn't."

"No, De Santis, we did not," I say truthfully. I let out a chuckle as I moved the comforter from my body, moving to the edge so I could finally start my day.

I won't stop talking, though. "But you did have a little moment with my body beforehand." Although it's not visible, I could see the intense blush reaching her cheeks. Angelica's speechless. "I didn't mind it."

Angelica stands up dressed down in my attire, and I can't help but stare at her. "You looked cute." And there's a scoff from her following my compliment.

"I don't know what's going through your pea brain right now, but as you can see, I'm not in the mood to flirt with you." She puts her face into her hands. "Gosh, anyone but you. Not while I'm hungover or ever."

To be as stubborn in academics and public, she sure as hell is not much different in private. Seriously, people usually receive a simple "thank you" after doing a good deed. And me? This is not something I do daily with any woman. She should be thanking me for my good service.