'We'll be back at this spot in the next hour. Don't get lost,' Dylan said.
'His words, not mine,' Angel muttered audibly.
'Marc?' General warned.
'Alright, fine. Have a nice trip, return safely, what the fuck ever.' Angel drew Dylan and General away by the wrist.
On Tuesday, she was stuck shopping with Dylan, Marc, General, and Europa because General and Major were throwing a costume party later in the evening. They just got there, yet Europa had 'compulsively' touched her at least four times and Angel had glared at her without shame more times than she could remember.
'It's just you and me now, innit?' Europa whispered into Sage's ear.
The sweetness of the voice wrapped around her brain like a blanket. 'Sure. Why not?'
Sage liked Europa, but not when she seemed to be flirting with her. She didn't restrain herself, not even in front of General. He was probably guilty for not giving her her medication.
With Europa's arm around her waist, she let herself be led away. Europa casually talked about fashion and beauty—two subjects that weren't Sage's cup of tea—and used the opportunity to suggest clothes for her. Most of those clothes were also not her cup of tea because they were too short, low-necked, tight, or all at once.
'But babe,' Europa said, pressing a forest-green bodycon against Sage, 'who wouldn't love you in this? You'd be the talk of the room, the life of the party.'
'It's supposed to be a costume party, so why not look for, like, actual costumes?' Sage said.
'There's quite a limited amount of costumes for ladies in this party. The theme is Arabian Nights, so you're either a genie or a courtesan,' Europa said. 'To be either, you need to be a little…sexy. A little underdressed, rather. I'm sorry if the word offends you.'
Sage frowned. 'It's kind of unfair that way, isn't it? Guys get all the good stuff.'
'It was my idea, not General or Major's. Typical me, always wanting to see beautiful bodies get naked,' she whispered. 'Let's get you a costume, babe. I want to see something on your beautiful body.'
Sage turned her back on Europa to scan for clothes for herself, but Europa's arm was wrapped around her waist before she could make a complete one-eighty.
'I'm so sorry, Sage,' Europa said. 'My medication—my actual pills—they ran out today. I said we'd get more after shopping, so you're stuck with this side of me for at least an hour.'
'An hour?' Sage yelped in panic.
'It's not too bad—to some extent. I'm kidding. It's quite bad,' Europa said. 'My gash feels so empty I could do a mannequin.'
One hour?
After five more minutes, Europa found something to wear: a red halter top and a miniskirt. She begged to be escorted to the changing room, and so Sage did.
Sage stood guard at the changing-room door for at least three minutes. She didn't want to guess what was keeping Europa for so long, not with the faint moaning noises coming from inside.
Several more minutes later, Europa came out. Sage almost averted her eyes. She was wearing the clothes she picked, but said clothing uncovered her too much to be called clothes.
'You like it?' Europa asked.
'You look like a courtesan,' Sage said in the most polite way she could summon.
'Exactly,' Europa cheered. 'Time to do you, if you know what I mean.'
'Excuse me?'
'Let's get you some clothes. Christ, Scarlett. My horniness is rubbing off on you.'
Along the way, they heard very familiar voices.
'And who will save you now, young prince?'
Sage halted. That was definitely Angel. A deep falsetto, but him no less.
'Help me,' someone—who was unmistakably Dylan—cried faintly. 'The evil Jafar is about to slay me.'
'Why would I ever slay you, darling? You're the one I wished for,' Angel said.
Sage almost gagged. She followed the sounds to meet the two in quite a position. Angel had crowded Dylan against a wall in such a way that gave the latter no chance of escape. Dylan, in turn, wrapped his arms around Marc's waist.
'Nothing will stop me from making you mine,' Angel said, 'not your genie or God Himself.'
'But Jasmine can!' Europa cried. 'Finish him.'
Sage and Angel locked eyes. It was so much like the second time she met Dylan, just that they were both ready to draw very literal blood.
'Rock, paper, scissors for him,' Sage said.
'Aladdin is not a literal diamond we can fight over with something like that,' Angel said, his look still bloodthirsty. 'What about chess?'
'You don't know if I play chess,' Sage argued.
'Exactly. That's why I know I'll win,' Marc retorted.
'Or—we can have Aladdin choose,' Dylan boomed. 'I decree that as the Genie.'
They both gave him the stink eye; possibly because Sage knew Dylan would choose Angel, while Angel thought he'd choose her.
'We'll have to settle this somehow,' Angel decided.
Europa gasped. 'I've got it; a kissing challenge.'
'No problem.' Angel yanked Dylan close to him.
'Not him, silly. ' Europa grabbed Marc's jaw and shook it. 'Me.'
'Okay. Problem,' Sage and Marc complained.
'Dylan won't be fair. He loves the thought of his two greatest loves fighting over him. Don't you, Prince?' Europa asked.
'It's quite hot,' Dylan confessed.
'You won't be fair either,' Marc said, 'fucking nympho.'
Europa grinned. 'Hell, why don't you come first?'
Angel almost launched into a tirade, but frowned and advanced to Europa.
Sage shut her eyes, but couldn't stand the curiosity and cracked a peep.
For a queer guy, Angel held up fine. He had his hands behind his back but looked invested in the kiss. Within three seconds, it was all over.
Europa winked at her. 'Your turn, darling.'
Sage didn't get why she started moving, but she did. Perhaps it was to keep herself from falling due to how shaky she felt.
'Marc made a mistake,' Europa whispered. 'He should've touched me, I enjoy it more that way. Don't make that mistake.'
Convinced—and determined to one-up Marc—Sage held Europa's waist.
They kissed and—wow. Europa was actually good. Tantalizing, even. She tasted like mint and cherries. Her moves were first slow, caring, and gentle; then she became passionate, biting Sage's lip and bouncing on her.
Sage's head told her to stop, but her mouth hadn't gotten enough of Europa's flavor. Five, ten, thirty seconds passed before they finally got tired and out of breath.
'Fuck,' Europa panted. 'That was—that was—fuck.'
'Let me guess; I lost?' Marc asked.
'Oh, you win. She used too much tongue and I felt like choking from that river of drool,' Europa said. 'Dylan, I suppose you're happy now.'
Sage's mouth dropped. How? The second real kiss she'd had in her life, and it was terrible?
'I didn't know you were a lesbian, my friend,' Dylan whispered into Sage's ear.
'Later,' she shot back.
He kissed the top of her head and walked away—with Marc, of course.
'You could do better,' Europa said with an arm on Sage's shoulder. 'You were under pressure then. That's why.'
'Some other time,' Sage said, bitter. For all Marc knew now, she drooled in Dylan's mouth when they kissed.
'Alright. Alright,' Europa said, holding her hands up. 'Let's get you out of this and into the genie costume we're supposed to be looking for.'
Sage was the most expectant to get back home. Dylan and Angel wouldn't stop poking fun at her even though she was right there.
Especially Dylan.
'…then I said, "That's where we're going. A water park." Then she said, "Exactly. A wa-ter park."'
Long story short, the past three jokes had been about the sheer hilariousness of the differences between British English and American English, and how they applied to Sage and Dylan's relationship.
'I told her to meet me on the third floor. What I didn't tell her was that I was saying the American kind of third floor,' Dylan said, 'then I waited for her for about twenty-five minutes. I rang her and she said, "Dylan, where are you?" I said, "The third floor." And then she went all, "I've been on the British third floor for almost an hour now. Don't you dare tell me that you're a floor below me." I looked around and replied, "If you insist."'
Sage would've flared up a long time ago, but Dylan's story about him and Marc never left her mind. She pitied him for trying so hard for a person he knew he wouldn't end up with.
She stood up to leave. She wasn't wanted, anyway.
'Oh come on,' Dylan whined. He followed her.
'Don't you see the guy's more than obviously flirting with you?' Sage asked.
'I do. That's why I need you here. Please?' he begged.
She giggled, but it turned out that he wasn't joking.
'You're kidding,' she said. 'You've gotta be kidding.'
'I'mma not, as you Americans say. I don't mind the subtle attention,' Dylan replied.
'Are you really trying to get us figured out? He'll see that you're trying to get him jealous, and it'll be very obvious that you like him, not me,' Sage reasoned.
'I have it all quite figured out. He'll think I'm trying to get payback for the Europa thing, and that's why I'm hanging out with him a lot and making you jealous, and that will make him jealous—I mean, make him think that I love you,' Dylan explained. He pinched her cheek. 'If anyone is getting jealous—'
'Not. Another. Word,' she threatened, a stern finger shaking in his face.
She sat down for two more rounds of laughter at her expense until Dylan excused himself.
'He's just trying to make me jealous,' Sage snapped when Dylan was out of earshot. 'Don't get cocky.'
'If that is the case, then why did he ignore you and devote all his attention to me?' Marc asked. 'Why didn't he give you as much as a single look, much less an apologetic one, when he said things that would irk you? I know his thought process, Scarlett, like the difference between night and day. If there's anyone he wants to annoy, it's me. He knows how much I hate your name being called from his lips. He knows I despise the mere idea of you and your existence, and that he's the only one stopping me from killing you on the spot.'
What did she say? Marc wasn't that dumb, even if she refused to admit it.
'You've got a point,' Sage agreed. 'So, do you or do you not like him?'
'I like him more than you,' Marc quipped.
'Fine. I'm dumb. Let's rephrase that: Are you in love with Dylan Boris Anthony?'
Marc looked at his shoes as color spread throughout his face. 'Just when I thought you couldn't get any dumber.'
On that happy note, he headed for the restroom.
Sage smiled. She was right. She was freaking right.
'I was right!' she rejoiced.
She felt eyes on her. Then a camera flashed.
Why did the paparazzi show up after Dylan and Marc had laughed and run away?
'My food is on Dylan,' she said quickly before dashing off.
Since the restaurant wasn't far from Anthony House, she could walk it.
As soon as she came through the doors—which were strangely open—she noticed that the television was on.
Her heart beat rapidly from fear and exhaustion. Robbers, assassins, Gothel, anyone
She heard someone come down the steps.
'Stop,' Sage boomed, 'in the name of the law.'
'Is that really what you would have done in a state of exigency?'
Sage stood up straight.
'Uh…yes?' She almost smacked herself. Bobby must've hated uncertainty. 'I mean, yeah. I would've done just that.'
Bobby walked down a bit faster, but in place of the thundering of their thick-soled platforms was the flip-flop of flip-flops.
'Why did you return so early?' they asked.
'I hit paparazzi at a nearby café,' Sage replied.
'That was a rhetorical question if you don't mind. Thank you for the answer, nonetheless.'
More flip-floping, then she heard the sofa closest to the television squish. Bobby had sat down.
'Should I leave?' Sage asked, feeling like she'd interrupted something.
'You have come this far. It is of no use.' They groaned loudly. 'Sit down.'
Sage sat on the farthest couch from the TV.
The video on the TV was unpaused, and Sage was quite shocked.
'Coco?' she muttered.
'It's also of no use muttering in an empty room,' Bobby shot back as they increased the volume of the animation's Mexican music.
'I thought you hated Spanish stuff,' Sage said.
'Marc Phoenix always says he hates Dylan, but lo que sea,' they replied.
'Hates him?'
'Doesn't have feelings for him. Again, lol que sea.'
Lo que sea; the more or less version of whatever in Spanish.
Sage watched the movie in silence, stunned that Marc would ever say something like that and amused that Bobby was watching a kid's show.
'Some people deride the assumptions of others,' Bobby said later on. 'We prefer to watch childish animations over tedious documentaries in solitude, while Marc Phoenix rebuffed Dylan's advances even though they had been the closest friends. He hurt Dylan in such a way that can be simply termed as unforgettable.'
'But—' she kept quiet. She couldn't tell them what Marc said. Then again, they might've known already.
'But Marc is affectionate around Dylan in your presence, correct? Marc does that to all—all of Dylan's partners that have come in contact with him. Those, by fortuity, happen to be the serious ones. With his overt and shameless propensity towards Dylan in the presence of those people and the threats he makes to them in Dylan's absence, they leave without delay.' They paused. 'For the last time; the sky is bloody blue!'
'Could we talk more about Marc?' Sage asked timidly.
'Right. Him.' Bobby continued: 'Not many have noticed, but as soon as the flames extinguish—pardon the pun—and they are left to themselves, the farthest their gestures and conversations go is that of best friends. The pattern repeats itself when another serious partner comes along. It's quite hilarious to watch.'
She recalled the time at the mall. Marc and Dylan were alone, but they were still pretty lovey-dovey.
'I have a counterreaction,' Sage said. She told them all about the trip to the mall when Marc played Jafar from Aladdin and said something about making Dylan his.
Bobby sighed. 'Even we don't know. He does that at times, and the cause is uncertain. It could have been a moment of weakness or a simple play. Captain's throwing a party based on the same franchise, is he not? Therefore, it is probable that Marc Phoenix wished to act a homoerotic remake to make jest of the movie. Times that should really concern you are when Dylan in particular is drunk. That's what happened last Saturday. Marc had let Dylan get inebriated so he would mess up the speech.'
'Woah,' Sage exclaimed. She didn't have much else to say.
'He did not lift a finger to stop Dylan from—blue. Do you get it? It might be a sarcastic answer, but the truth is that most of the time, the sky is blue!'
When she linked their analysis to Marc's confession, it made a lot of sense. Marc extinguished the flames—the ones that could burn, like her—so Dylan would have all the time for him. The sole reason why he hadn't proposed to Dylan by then was out of shame of the unforgettable way he broke Dylan's heart. But why did Marc resist at first just to realize he wanted Dylan later?
Sage had one more question, but it wasn't about Marc.
'Could we talk about Europa now? I'm gonna be stuck with her at the party, and she's been acting weird all day,' she said.
'Don't relate with her too much. Her father is Mr. David—an MP with ambition,' Bobby said. 'Mr. Anthony keeps him close because he fears the man might kill him one day. Unfortunately, his and his daughter's closeness to this family has cost it greatly.'
'What's your beef with her, by the way?' she asked. 'She once said you were—you were watching her. Yeah. That's all I can say appropriately.'
'Demented people always think someone is surveying them,' Bobby huffed. 'It's not a story you would like to hear or we would like to tell. But for the sake of how well this conversation is going, we'll give you some intel: Fergus David is a two-timing bastard that uses his daughter as a weapon. Avoid the weapon.'
It then occurred to her that Europa's initials were spelled R.E.D. Red was the opposite of green. Red meant bad, danger, and fire.
The two of them watched Coco without another sound except when Bobby raged over the incorrectness of the sarcastic statements in one of the songs and mumbled inaudible Spanish at particularly sad scenes.
She didn't notice when someone came in, but someone turned the lights on.
'Bloody fucking hell,' swore Dylan and Bobby.
Sage covered her mouth at the sight of a completely laid-back Bobby. They wore the black pj's she'd been told to never return, had chocolate-smeared lips, and suddenly-curly hair in the absence of their braid.
In her opinion, they looked like an adorable mess.
'You are so—so—' Dylan sighed. 'I can't even argue right now. We'll talk later.'
'Arse,' Bobby cursed. They switched off the television and flip-flopped into Zoe's room.
Worried—Dylan always engaged Bobby in a few seconds of banter—Sage followed him upstairs.
In their room, he was nowhere to be seen.
'Dylan?' she called. 'What's up? You're definitely not okay.'
Her phone bleeped in her pocket. It was a text from no one other than the guy she was worried sick about:
Europa will pick you up @ 6:30.
After that came a three-line paragraph of crying emojis.
'Dylan.' Sage banged on his bathroom door. 'Dude. What's up?'
Then she remembered what Dylan said about his bathroom: Nothing, not even sound, went in or out unless the door was open, and the door wouldn't open unless he opened it.
Perfect for suicides and murders, she had joked.
You're my friend! she typed. What's wrong? Please be okay?
I'll b fyn. Just go, he replied
Never! She texted back.
He typed for several seconds
Do u want 2 c Amanda again?
It was her turn to type and delete. Did she want to meet the woman who stabbed her in the back for some guy? Did she want to see the woman she hit in the head? Was she strong enough to confront both issues?
Sure. I do want to.
Go 2 d party nd have lots of fun. We'll talk 2morrow, he replied.
She sighed. You're impossible and I hate you! You'd better be fine when I get home.
She glared at the impenetrable bathroom as if it would melt at her gaze. He had to be okay. Her reward depended on it.
At six-fifty, Sage and Europa were dressed as the scantily clad Jasmine and Raja. Sage—Jasmine—wore a green off-shoulder crop top with no sleeves and a flowing green skirt that was perfect in every aspect except the meter-wide slit. Europa wore the same clothes she picked before, not caring how much flesh she exposed.
Sage didn't mind the odd looks they got when they came in. She was too worried about Dylan. He'd refused to come out of his fortress and stopped answering her texts.
'Oh come on,' Europa said. She hugged her from behind and rested her head on her shoulder. 'He wants you to have fun. Stop being such a spoilsport.'
'I have to worry. I love him,' Sage said. Love. It sounded so wrong and false from her mouth. 'Um—he's my boyfriend, so.'
'If you love him, you'd do what he wants you to: have fun.'
Before she could protest, Europa led her away to General and Major's mini bar.
'Hennessey!' Europa called. 'Four cool drinks for two hot girls.'
Hennessey—a buff, tall, shirtless blond bartender—frowned at Sage as if he could smell how little alcohol was in her blood
'What would you like?' he asked. 'But before you tell me hot chocolate and a strawberry milkshake, I'd suggest diluted tequila to start you off.'
'Oh, Henny,' Europa said, 'she's with me. Trust me, she'll handle whatever you throw at her.'
'Anything?' Hennessey asked.
'Anything,' Europa replied in a sensual tone. It wouldn't have been awkward if she wasn't looking at Sage when she did.
The day after she'd gotten drunk, Dylan warned her never to drink until she got back to America, calling her submissive in the presence of alcohol. She intended to keep that promise.
Intended to.
Bobby's warning about Europa's father was the last reasonable thought she had before Hennessey started to fill her up with alcohol.
While she was lost in thought, Hennessey took the time to make three cocktails.
'Which one is this?' Sage asked, taking the cocktail in a shot glass topped with whipped cream.
Hennessey grinned. 'We call it Blowjob. Despite the name, it's the mildest of all the drinks here.'
Sage cringed, as she often did when she heard profanity. She forced the drink down her throat while making a terrible face that made Europa laugh.
Her next drink was appropriately called Blood of Satan for its red color and the burning sensation it left in her throat, brain, and stomach.
'Ugh,' Sage groaned. She didn't feel so good anymore.
'Wait,' Europa warned when she reached for the last drink. 'Let this one kick in first.'
'I think it has,' Sage complained.
'Believe me, it hasn't,' Hennessey said.
'How are you feeling?' asked Europa.
To put things simply, Sage felt bad. Tossed-into-the-pit-of-Hell is bad. She couldn't control the fire the last cocktail had put inside her. She wanted to curl into a ball and scream.
'Oh my God,' she muttered. 'Dear God, dear God, holy freaking God.'
'Baby,' Europa called. Her fingers ran up and down Sage's back in a comforting motion. 'Stay, baby, stay. Stay for me, baby.'
By sheer luck, that stopped Sage's hyperventilation. She started to see straight.
There was still one more cocktail. It looked just like orange juice.
'Don't do it,' Hennessey warned.
'Okay, okay,' Sage said, nodding. She admitted she'd had enough. Her vision spun, and the ground seemed to be calling to her.
Europa took Sage's hands and led her to a chair where five other ladies sat.
'Babe, these are my girlfriends,' Europa introduced. 'You know Shelby and Divine, of course. Then there's Lindsay, Harriet, and Lizzie.'
'They and Euro altogether go by H-E-L-L,' Shelby pointed out.
Sage shivered. She longed for a jacket, but not for the cold. If the Hell girls were just as bad as Europa, she'd need to cover up.
'So guess what? This one's all ours today. Especially mine,' Europa said, giggling.
'So tasty,' one of Europa's friends said, licking her lips. 'I'd love some of that.'
'Oh baby, even I haven't gotten my fill yet. She's off limits, you know—Prince's girlfriend,' Europa said.
The girl frowned. 'So no one can taste her?'
'Only on a cold day in Hell,' Europa said, grinning.
The other Hell girls grinned as wide as Europa. Sage sensed danger afoot.
'I need to go—' she started.
'Am I making you uneasy?' Europa asked. 'My friends and I are just joking. Come on. Sit with us.'
Sage reluctantly agreed.
'I'm Harriet,' said the girl who spoke earlier. 'Your costume is a knockout.'
'Thanks,' Sage replied. She scanned Harriet's outfit—a flamethrower-red lace bodycon. 'You look stunning too.'
'I want to be called stunning too,' whined another girl in a black miniskirt and crop top. 'I'm Lindsay. You look delicious.'
'Um—you also,' Sage said.
'She's blushing so much, like a pretty virgin. I hate virgins, but she'll do,' said another girl in a short, gold-sequined dress. 'I'm Lizzy. I like you.'
'Don't answer that,' Europa warned. 'Now your chief she-devil has arrived, let's partake in the semen of our master.'
Sage would've screamed if she didn't notice the three-dozen shots on the table, which Europa and the others started to down as soon as Europa finished speaking.
'Try one,' Europa whispered.
'I've had too many already,' Sage complained, her head spinning.
'I'll help you,' Europa said. She drank a shot, but didn't swallow, then grabbed Sage's face and kissed her.
Sage had her eyes open for the whole ordeal. It wasn't at all like when Dylan kissed her. She didn't like it.
'Do you want more?' Europa asked, her fingers caressing Sage's face.
'Euro, are you cunted?' Shelby asked.
'I couldn't get my medicine today,' Europa said in a whiny voice. 'This is the best bet I have. You know how General is.'
'So General's ace, but Dylan's going to be very mad if he finds out,' Divine said.
'Let me help you,' Harriet offered, rising.
'Join in if you want, but I want her,' Europa said.
Meanwhile, Sage had mostly lost her mind. She heard voices and what they were saying, but failed to make sense of them.
It wasn't until Europa straddled her that her worry heightened.
'Am I in trouble?' Sage asked innocently.
'Have you ever kissed a girl before, little Mary?' Harriet asked.
'Sage,' Sage corrected, 'and no.'
'Kiss me. It'll be your first time. First times are fun,' Europa said.
Her sense of judgment went foggy, and she had no problem kissing Europa.
'Fuck,' Europa moaned. 'More, baby.'
'No.' Harriet pushed Europa down from Sage's lap. 'You have a boyfriend, remember? Share.'
Harriet ignored Europa's protests, straddled Sage, then kissed the latter until she was out of breath.
'One more,' Harriet said softly, rubbing Sage's sides.
Sage kissed Harriet again, and again because she still asked for more. Europa got behind her and kissed her neck and back.
'Are you out of your mind?' asked Divine. She sounded terribly far.
'We need to get General,' Shelby said exaggeratedly as if she didn't really mean it.
Harriet took the warning and released Sage. Europa, on the other hand, quickly replaced her friend, then tongue kissed Sage.
Somewhere in Sage's mind, her mother hurled insults at her, but Europa's kiss made her feel better. She gave in and let the other girl pleasure her, not minding her external surroundings.