Tatum's Tears | On Hold

Chapter 2 - ❝Just Talk❞ | Part 2 |

Who's gonna be an awesome reader and click that orange star? Oh, yes! That's you! 

~ * ~

Later that evening, Tatum found herself staring at her closet full of clothes, wondering what would be appropriate for this house party/Alpha gathering that she was supposed to be going to, that Friday. It was the first formal gathering held outside of Pack that she'd decided to attend in years, and she wanted to look presentable in the least.

She had no luck finding anything amidst the sea of plain jeans and baggy shirts and all the other utterly out-of-fashion clothes she owned. Considering the size of the walk-in closet and the number of wardrobes in there, you would think that she would have at least one outfit that said 'Classy and Sexy' but nope, not a single piece of clothing was acceptable.

"This is freaking ridiculous," She muttered under her breath, slamming the wardrobe shut with enough gusto to rattle the hangers in there as she stomped out of the closet. She pulled out her desk chair with unnecessary force as she plonked down, grabbing her wireless keyboard and stabbing each key while entering her password.

"Woah, what did the poor computer do to you?" Angier shouldered open her slightly ajar door as he entered her room without permission, again, his arms full with a couple white boxes stacked on top of each other. She was curious but chose not to acknowledge what he so badly wanted her to. Yet.

"There's such a thing called privacy, you know? It's why there's a common social norm that people knock before entering someone's room," She said instead, turning her gaze back to the Pages document of the soon-to-be-due report she'd left open, before her wandering brain had led her to the trip to her closet.

"Yeah, but not if that person is your sister." Ouch. That was a new development she wasn't aware of.

"Sister?" She queried, sounding as nonplussed as she could possibly manage, staring studiously at the screen of her Mac. She could see him unloading the boxes in his arms on her bed on her peripheral vision, placing the contents neatly by a corner as he removed his shoulder bag and threw it carelessly on the floor by the foot of the cot.

"Duh." He then flopped down on the bed unceremoniously, letting out an exhale that told her just how tired he was after a day of who-knows-what he did. "My oldest memory is of the two of us self-teaching each other how to swim in a kiddie pool when we were four," He chuckles, continuing, "and I would take a bullet for you in less than a heartbeat. Like I know you would, too."

The way he said that she would too, with such conviction, made Tatum finally give in to the urge and spin around in her rolling chair, an impassive look in her eyes, "So?"

Angier shrugs, as if all that should be self-explanatory, "So, that makes you family. You're the sister I never had."

"Oh," Tatum leaned back, letting the back of her chair hit the edge of the desk as she contemplated his words. She supposed he meant that as the highest form of bonding, of love—if she had to be more specific, that she was one of the most important people on earth to him.

But why did that thought settle like a heavy weight at the bottom of her stomach?

Because you want more, an evil voice whispered in the back of her mind, making Tatum feel ashamed.

No, she violently propelled that voice away, I want him to be happy, and that's the only thing that I want.

"Yeah," She conceded, smiling as she pushed herself erect to nod at him, "Then you're my family, too."

Angier raised his head, grinning. "I know."

Well, this was getting way too emotional for her liking. "So . . . what're in those boxes?" Tatum questioned, standing up and walking closer to the bed, peering at the nondescript shapes and the plain white color that gave nothing away.

"Oh, yeah!" Angier sat up with sudden excitement, his grin widening impossibly bigger, "Why don't you take a guess before I actually reveal it?" He suggests, his eagerness and excitement contagious enough to actually make Tatum wanna know what it was.

"Alright, um . . . A stereo system for my car?"

"Nope."

"Uh, the old-fashioned tape player that they used in Friends that we always wanted to buy?"

"Ah . . .you would've loved that better, but nope."

"Oh well, a complete collection of the Fullmetal Alchemist manga signed by Hiromu Arakawa?"

"Goddess, I wish, but no."

"C'mon, just say what it is!" Tatum finally exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air.

"Fine!" He surrendered, lifting the lid of the larger box slowly with the most guilty expression on his face.

Inside, Tatum found . . . clothes?

"What's this?" She demanded, scowling at her sheepish best friend—who was about to be demoted from his position soon enough, bearing all his recent antics in mind.

"This is an . . . outfit?" He replied, avoiding her gaze contritely.

"Are you implying that I don't dress well enough?"

"What!? No!" Angier stood up, alarmed. "You're fine! This is for the party!"

"Ohh," Tatum was the one who was uncomfortable now, "Wait, what about my sizes and stuff?"

"Meh, easily guessable."

Tatum shot him a look.

"Yeah, alright. I went through your stuff and took some notes." He stated, unapologetic as he shut the lid of the box, slowly taking a step away.

"You . . . went through my stuff." Tatum repeated, unable to comprehend and settle on one particular emotion out of the numerous ones coursing through her, "I'm feeling violated on so many levels right now."

"You say that now, but you'll be thanking me when you see what I brought you here." He takes another step back, slowly raising his hands in defense.

"Oh, yeah?" Tatum asked in a low tone, taking a menacing step closer when a thought occurred to her, "But you told me about the party this morning. When did you sneak in . . ." Her eyes widened as realization dawned, "unless, you already snuck in and then decided to tell me about the party! You àsśhat!" Tatum charged at him in earnest now, about to grab the smaller box and throw it at his head when, "Not that! Those are $1200 Louboutins*!" He screamed in protest, making her freeze in surprise.

"Two things," She took a deep breath, calming herself down with tremendous effort, "First, I don't wear heels. Second, Exactly how did you manage to pay for all this?"

"Who said I did? It was your Dad who forced me to buy it!" He said with too much innocence in his voice, smiling a sweet smile which never failed to charm the female, and occasionally the male population.

That's not gonna work on Tatum. Not now, not when his incapacitation was imminent.

"Oh, Beta Wellington, you are so dead."

~ * ~

*Note: Christian Louboutin is a very renowned brand of high-end stilettos and other high-heeled (mostly) footwear with red soles usually referred to as "red bottoms". (Just in case someone didn't know)

Yes, I said I'll update on May 18th but I just couldn't wait any longer. 

Chapter 3 will be updated on MAY 21st AND IT WILL BE SUPER LONG. 4K WORDS.

ENJOY AMIGOS! and don't forget to

VOTE

COMMENT

FAN!