Page 41 of Creep
I flinch when someone brushes their fingers against my arm in passing, and I spot Daisy when I whip my head her way. “Damn, Creep. You sure you’re not straight?”
A grimace passes over Angel’s features as he follows her with his gaze. Surely, he can’t be jealous?
“Are you... all right with people touching you like this?” he asks, leaning toward me. He then picks up two bowls and fills them with salad. One of them ends up on my tray. If he’s so bold in his assumptions, I make my point too, and put the muffin on his without asking.
“No. And they usually don’t. You know I’m not so great with touching.”
Not that Daisy is here anymore to be reprimanded. Deep down, I know she meant well, and that it’s me who needs to learn how to be around people.
“Well, in that case, I will speak up next time,” Angel tells me cheerfully.
I spot Rooster by one of the tables, passing his nephew to his sister as they both look back at me with identical smiles.
Angel exchanges a few words with Rhonda and her husband, then heads toward the busy table. I’m confused whether he still wants me to follow, but when he winks at me, I move like a puppy hoping for a snack.
It’s hardly the whole club, but sitting with Prophet are Road, Clyde, and Yeti, so it still feels like a crowd. Yeti puts his hands around his mouth and howls. I have no idea what he fucking means.
“Are you his dolly now?” Yeti asks, wiggling his fingers, presumably to indicate my painted nails.
Oh, it’s on. My walls go up, and I’m ready for confrontation because that’s the only language Yeti understands. “I like it. Much better than all that blackunderyour nails.”
Clyde snorts so hard Road has to pat his back when he starts choking. Yeti’s expression sours, but before he can try to defend his unhygienic habits, Rooster joins us with his dad, Harvey.
“What’s up?” Rooster asks with a big grin and steals a blueberry off Clyde’s tray.
Road laughs. “Yeti was just asking Angel how much it would cost to get his unibrow under control.”
Yeti runs his middle finger over his eyebrows. “This thing here is proof of my virility, and it won’t be balding anytime soon.” It’s a dig clearly meant at Road and his buzz cut.
Clyde just keeps laughing, and when he bends forward, resting one hand on Road’s shoulder, his golden mane covers most of his face. “Hehashair, dumbass, just shaves it off.”
It makes no sense, since excessive testosterone can cause hair loss in both men and women, but I choose not to voice my objections and sit next to Angel. Any other time, I’d wonder if I should even be here, but his presence gives me the confidence to take up as much space as I need.
“Glad you worked things out,” Prophet says and pats my shoulder.
“There was nothing to work out, really. A simple misunderstanding,” Angel says, offering me a bright grin. He digs into his salad first, because he’s virtuous like that, and I’m compelled to seek his approval by doing the same.
“So… what’s going on between you two really?” Road swallows a piece of the apple he’s cut with a hunting knife. He then casually rests his arm on Clyde’s shoulders, by now used to showing his husband affection. I’m so damn envious, and since for once I have someone at my side, someone who doesn’t flinch at my touch, my arm tingles with the need to rest against my boy’s warm skin.
I want to be close to him. To claim him the way Road and Clyde claim one another. To make sure he knows I adore him tothe very tips of his toes. But each time I think about making my move, a sense of awkwardness settles in, so I give up for now and stuff my face with the salad.
Angel chuckles, and his blue eyes briefly meet mine. “We don’t really need to define it.”
A perfectly normal, reasonable, and not at all hurtful answer. So why does it feel like a stab in the gut? Of course he doesn’t want to have a leech like me attached to his lovely skin permanently. Still, dark clouds settle over my shoulders as I chew in silence. Guess my answer isn’t needed, because Angel has said everything there is to be said.
But what are we then? Friends who fuck?Arewe friends? It would seem reasonable to assume that after all we shared with each other yesterday. Then again, maybe I misread the whole thing? Maybe Angel is friendly with everyone? Wouldn’t be the first time social cues flew right over my head.
I’ve suddenly lost my appetite, but I still eat the salad like a dog would take its medicine.
At least no one prods further when Howler comes to the table with his tray. He’s stocky, has shaggy, dry hair, and he’s wearing one of his beloved howling wolf T-shirts.
“Angel, you got those hairdressing tools back I see.” Howler points at my head. “My ol’ lady was wondering if you could swing by our house first thing after breakfast?”
Angel’s face lights up, and he swallows his food hurriedly to answer. “Of course. She has such thick hair. I can’t wait to work on it.”
I try not to be a downer, since everyone else is in such great moods, but I can’t forget the way Angel refused to admit we’re together. The way he said it, voice light as if the topic didn’t even matter, keeps passing through my head in a torture wheel of memories. It’s fortunate I’m known for my silence, so no one’sbothered when I don’t contribute much to the ever-changing conversation at the table.
All I can think about is that once the meal is over, I’ll have to benormalaround Angel, so he doesn’t notice my disappointment, and right now that feels borderline impossible. I’m relieved when Prophet glances at his phone, and his brows go up in alarm.
