Devotion

twenty nine ﾒ twin telepathy

ANGELICA

The morning after the eventful night we had last night blurred in my mind. I heard music, felt Leilani, and heard her defend my honor from her cousin. Her blood. It's nice to know someone cares about my feelings as much as I guard myself from the world.

But the night before caused me to feed myself with tequila shots. I don't remember drinking that much, and I could tell that my father's threats hit a spot in my heart.

"Fuck," I whisper to myself, holding my head with a sweaty, clammy palm. Regret fills me as I think about how much I consumed, and how someone didn't know to keep it away from me. It's not like I'm a lightweight, but seriously, I can never handle it the next day.

A similar exhausting Leilani holds her temple while lying in a fetal position. "A," she whispers, "That was a bad idea. Never listen to me again." I wanted to laugh, badly. But the headache and hangover said, No, you stupid bitch. A groan escapes instead and we lay there in Luca's bed like corpses.

"Never again," I whisper back. We lie there in complete agony until the sharp ring of my cell phone hits the both of us like a damn freight train. Trying to ignore the ill-mannered ring in my ear, I cover them. As if. I sigh and reach for the phone, sliding to answer before lying back against one of the pillows he seems to have. Who knew a college frat boy who plays hockey for fun and who also appears to be under his father in a mafia organization would have such nice pillows?

I press the phone to my ear and grunt as a hello. "Angelica, why did I have to fucking call ten times just for you to answer the eleventh time?" Rowan's deep and angry voice fills the call, and I only sigh. Of course, it's my intolerant twin brother. "My bad," I whisper. "I have a hangover."

"You?" He asks. "You have a hangover? You rarely drink or party." I press a hand to my forehead and squeeze up my face in annoyance. "I just...went out." I find some believable words in my head that sound, you know, believable. "Yeah, with Leilani."

Rowan lets out a disappointed sigh. "Of course, with Leilani," he deadpans. "Why would she get you wasted? You're not her."

My ears perk up at the hidden insult. "Listen, motherfucker, you're my brother. She's my best friend. I got fucked up last night because your son of a bitch of a father hates me!" I raise my voice. I didn't ask for this, for fuck's sake.

"My bad, for saying that. That was my fault. But she's trouble. She may be your best friend, but she's full of trouble." And although the insult was never meant to be taken seriously. But I'm breaking for people thinking they can control everything. I clutch the phone hard to my ear as I stand up, the hangover disappearing and replacing with complete anger. "Listen, Rowan. I will come over there and break your skull with a gun. Don't talk about my best friend as if she's a dog, and don't piss me off anymore. Now, what the fuck did you call me for?" The angry and demanding Angelica was always there but fear was also always apparent. The phone call is silent before he sighs. "My bad," he says. "Hurry and get ready, Angelica. I'm standing outside of his door right now." What the fuck?? Why was I not alerted of his sudden presence?!

"Okay," I say. I end the phone call and throw it on Luca's bed as I dive into the suitcase my stupid twin brother sent me. I quickly change into some jeans, a black sweater, and my Sambas. In a rush and not keeping track of what I need, a slim arm pokes out of nowhere and hands my Birkin. Oh, nice. Forgot I had this.

I hug Leilani goodbye and rush out of the bedroom, the kitchen where Nonna is cooking, and open the penthouse door, meeting with the dangerously annoying brother. Not sure how many times I have to mention he's annoying, annoying, and annoying. What a serious case Lei's dealing with liking this freak.

Rowan's tattooed arm wraps around my neck, pulling him into a side hug. "What's up, Angelica?" He asks and he smiles for a second. As we walked, that smile turned into a cold glare in front of him. He's very intimidating if you know him well enough. He barely speaks, smokes a shit ton of weed, and has a million hobbies. He's always been the cool one, especially in high school. I used to be freakishly jealous that he had so many friends. Luckily, he wasn't one of those, embarrassed to be seen with his sister.

He's been a father to me than our own. What a shame. And our mother allows it because she's too brainwashed. "Why are we walking so fast? You're choking me with your arm, Jesus. I hate this, why am I here? My head hurts. I didn't drink the concoction I usually drink when I get drunk." Ramble after ramble leaves my mouth as the headache grows fonder.

"You talk a lot, you know that, right?" He asks. I let go and followed him out of the lobby and into the parking lot. "Yeah," I say, plopping into the passenger seat, and reaching for the seatbelt. The burden of leaving him in the house knowing things could go from A to B, hits me and I grow a great amount of guilt although he did this for me. "Rowan? You shouldn't be in that house."

Rowan reverses before entering the main road. Gripping the steering wheel and staring at the road, he says, "Just let the shit go. I already told you what I'm doing. I already have my place, I just stay there because our mother is a fucking airhead and could get herself killed. If our father threatened to press a gun to your temple, what makes he won't do it to our mother?" My heart races at the thought.

"But he wouldn't hurt mom?" I finger my sweater, sitting uncomfortably. I've been avoiding this conversation and situation, and as much as I love being drunk, we have to be present for deciding like this. This isn't a regular family disagreement, this is life vs. death.

Rowan lets out a cynical laugh. "Yes, he would." There's silence between us. I've always felt so small compared to him, he's my big brother regardless if it's by 2 minutes or 2 years. I wasn't nearly as strong as him. "I'll kill Dad, then," I whisper, glancing at him to find a reaction.

His jaw sets. "You wouldn't hurt a fly. The last time I took you to shoot a gun, you wouldn't even press a trigger."

"You underestimate a lot, about a lot of people. I may be the younger twin, but I'm not weak, Ro," I defend. "Stop treating me like I couldn't hurt a fly if I tried. Now, tell me where the hell we're going." I cross my arms over my chest. "Now."

"I'm taking you to the college arena. You're telling Luca you're moving out of his penthouse. I have my place you can stay at for the time being. Finish your school, graduate, and then we're getting out of this damn city."

It didn't take long for us to show up at the hockey arena. There was practice so we sat at the lowest seating row. My chin rests above my arms as I watch the team play aggressively. Something about it made me worried for that fucker on the ice. Luca yells and pushes one of his teammates before the Coach blows the whistle and calls practice quits.

I immediately stand up as Luca takes off his helmet, smoothing his hair. His curls stay put as he takes out the mouth guard. He notices me and Rowan, mostly Rowan since he's taller than me. We synchronously walk over to the opening to the ice, watching him skate over to us. "Why are you here?" He glares, no emotions coming from his mouth.

"We're here because I'm moving out of your penthouse. Next week. Rowan's letting me stay with him in his apartment for the rest of the school year." Luca's face goes from a cold glare, his bright blue eyes staring at me. "Okay," he says.

"Okay?" I ask.

Rowan backs me up from the ice. "Yes, okay."

"Why, okay?" I want answers. His face annoys me, but still! "You're not supposed to be okay."

Luca laughs. Laughs! How despicable. "Alright, I'm not okay, then. Happy." I give him a slight nod. "Yes, yes, I am." I was not.