Devils and Angels

xii. unfriendly confrontation

g l a u c o u s

like morning fog

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ELIZABETH'S LOOSE-LIPPED SMILE DREW me more than Ayden's receding figure ever could. I kept missing him, and by now, it was obvious to anybody whose eyes had flitted over me, that I was anxious for his presence.

And if she knew this, then it was the firmness of her eyebrows and the hesitance of her grin that gave it away, and while everything in me was screaming avoid, avoid, avoid, I ignored, and I approached, because the last thing I wanted was for her to pick up on feelings that were hidden and one-sided; that shouldn't have existed at all. 

"You look like you want to speak to my boyfriend." A laugh spilled from her lips, sparse and uncomfortable, and her ice-eyed gaze was stifling in all that it was searching and unwavering. 

"Something like that," I agreed, swallowing my own discomfort. 

I could count every one of my conversations with Elizabeth on one hand, and each seemed to be on the precipice of plunging into frictional disagreement―too detached; clunky and mechanical, lacking the seamless flow that entertained my conversations with Archie and Jess and Casp and Henry and Derek. I didn't dislike the girl, truly, it just seemed we were so utterly different; Ayden had made himself known on both ends of the spectrum, but had been quick to pick favourites, and it had happened to be a girl that shared my name but little else of mine. 

I wondered if it was worth engaging the extra effort with Elizabeth; go the extra mile to see if she could find a place in my friendship circle after all. She was just as innocent to the situation as I was, and any grudge I held against her was of my own unfairness.

"I...actually need to confront him about something," I added, letting my hands fall into my blazer pockets.

"That doesn't sound very friendly." Elizabeth quirked up an eyebrow, folding manicured hands over her lap.

"It's not," I admitted, pausing for a beat before asking, "How long were you talking to Ayden before...you guys became official?"

She tipped herself back on the table, her shiny ringlets of gold hair spilling back over her shoulders, snug in the shirt and blazer she wore like high-fashion. 

"About a month," She finally answered, the previously sweet smile on her face tightening to saccharine; pursed lips scornful. I hated the look, because her words were all too familiar―about a month―about the same period of time I'd been talking to him too. "Why do you ask?"

"Because." I took a deep breath. "He, um...he and I were talking in that time too. Maybe not―maybe not properly, but enough."

Her eyebrows jumped at this, and she shook her head. "You're deluding yourself, Kat. Why would he have been talking to anyone else? No offence, but we're very different, and it's clear who he prefers." 

"Okay, true," I agreed, though my hands were tightening around the edge of the table until my knuckles flushed white. "But if you didn't know that he was talking to anybody else, it means he was playing us, and―,"

"Katya―," She cut in, suddenly sharp. "I'd appreciate you not saying stuff like that about my boyfriend. If you want to believe that you guys had something going on, you do you. But, honestly, to me, it sounds like you're just jealous." Her words formed a cold sneer that grated against my ears and heated the blood pumping through my veins.

"So, you're calling me a liar?" I confirmed, hopping off the table and facing her head-on instead. "When I told you this just to look out for you, you really want to call me a liar?"