Angie stands at the edge of the crowd, watching all the fancily-dressed people glide around the room, chatting to each other. Her dad is across the floor, gesturing wildly and probably closer to shouting than is usually considered acceptable at a charity gala. She barely resists the urge to roll her eyes.
Her and her dad's relationship has been even weirder than normal since the year of shrinks and pills and not getting out of bed for weeks at a time. He would sit with her for hours, sometimes through the night, the light from his laptop like the nightlight she used to have as a little girl: he didn't try to talk to her like Mom or Philip or Aunt Jelly did, just sit and work and be there next to her. It had been nice, actually, probably the least contentious their relationship had been since she was ten years old. When she'd gotten better (and she had gotten better, she had, if she still sometimes feels that dragging awfulness it's because everyone does, she's just tired)—when she'd gotten better, though, it was like he didn't know how to talk to her anymore, treated her like she needed some kind of special care or she'd break again.
Which is why she's here to begin with; Mom wasn't feeling well and Dad had asked her if she wanted to go to the gala with him instead. She had half a mind to say no, but she was bored and wanted an excuse to wear the new dress Aunt Jelly had gotten her for her birthday, so she'd said, sure.
It's pretty boring, but the combination of the dress and the elegant twist Mom had put up her hair in made her look at least three years older and they're not carding anyway, so she's sipping her second glass of champagne when she finally finds a quiet corner of the room.
When she gets there, though, she realizes there's someone also already hiding there. The girl looks up, and her eyes immediate narrow in recognition.
"Hamilton, right?" she says.
"Burr, right?" Angie shoots back.
Theodosia Burr lets out a hmming noise, but doesn't reply. Her hair is loose, falling in thick curls past her shoulders. Her dress is dark blue, unremarkable.
Angie doesn't really know her; she knows of her, obviously, and they've run into each other a few times over the years, mostly at things like this that their dads both had to go to, but they've barely even had a real conversation. Still, Angie can see the vague distain in Theo's expression, and it rankles her, no matter that she feels the same.
"You don't like me, huh," Angie says suddenly, wanting to get a rise out of Theodosia without really knowing why.
"I don't know you," Theo says, answering without answering.
"Yeah, but you still don't like me," Angie presses.
"If you're anything like your brother," Theo concedes primly. "No, I don't."
"Don't say a word about my brother," Angie say, an automatic reflex. "You go to Columbia too, huh? Just like your dad?"
"Of course," Theo says. "Do you? I haven't seen you around campus."
Angie snorts. "Not all of us feel the need to follow in their parents' every footstep."
"Not all of us feel the need to rebel just to prove we can."
Theo remains calm and collected, but there's a hint of a spark in her eye when they're arguing that Angie likes. She wants to see what she can do to get it back, grow it larger.
"So you're pre-law, right?" Angie says. "Just like your daddy?"
Theo's mouth tightens slightly. "Double major, political science and English lit," she says. And then, relenting: "On a pre-law track." Her eyes flick over Angie, like she's sizing her up. "What about you?"
"French."
"So that's what you think will piss off your dad most?" Theo says, with something that might be a smirk.
"Something like that." She smirks back; somehow this is the most fun she's had in weeks.
The breakneck speed of their conversation pauses for the first time; in the lull, Angie notices for the first time how Theo's skin glows in the ballroom lighting, the way her hair looks like a halo around her head. The way her eyes are unfathomably deep and dark, that spark still hidden in their depths. Shit, she thinks, tearing her eyes away.
But then she turns back to Theo, something bold and maybe a little crazy blooming in her chest. "Hey," she says, "you wanna go somewhere more quiet?"
Theo opens her mouth, then closes it again. She looked like she was going to say yes, but then her expression changes slightly, and she lets out a small laugh. "No," she says, with an air of finality. "You'll have to piss off your dad with someone else."
"That's not what I—"
"Goodbye, Angie Hamilton," Theo tells her, and then turns, and walks away.
*
Her dad finds her a few hours later, as the gala is winding down. Angie's sitting at one of the small, round tables scattered throughout the room, head propped up on her hand and wallowing, maybe, just a little.
Her dad sits at the table across from her. "Having a good time?"
She shrugs. "Yeah."
"You wanna go?"
"Yeah."
He nods, agreeing, and they both stand up, making their way to the door. Her dad's stopped by no less than four people on the way out, and Angie stands quietly, trying not to show her impatience, as her dad talks about budgets and taxes and dividends.
When they finally make it to the car, it's silent as Dad starts the engine, pulls out of the garage and onto the street. It's not deserted—even at close to midnight D.C.'s awake—but they don't run into much traffic as they start home, and Angie lets the streetlights wash over her through the window, starting out at the closed storefronts.
"Sorry it got long," her dad says after a few minutes, breaking the silence.
She shrugs. "You schmooze everyone you needed to schmooze?"
Her dad looks like he's barely refraining from rolling his eyes. "More or less."
"I'm guessing that means less."
"It means more or less," her dad says.
"Yeah, well," she says. "I saw you arguing at Senator Monroe, so I'm still thinking it means less."
"Monroe is a cockroach," her dad says. "He's not even a cockroach. He's like one of those flies that shows up in the summer just to be an ass and spread disease."
"Horseflies."
"Yeah."
"I'll be sure to let him know."
"Very funny, young lady." They drive in silence, before her dad tries to fill it again. "I saw you talking to Theo Burr."
"You clearly weren't schmoozing enough, if you were keeping track of my social life."
"I wasn't keeping track," her dad says. "I just noticed."
"Uh-huh," Angie says. "She's nice," she says, just to be ornery.
Her dad snorts, and does roll his eyes this time. "I'm sure," he says. "It might literally kill a Burr not to be nice."
"Yeah," Angie agrees, looking back out the window. The silence falls again, and this time her dad doesn't try to interrupt it, driving quietly through the streetlit night.
*
It's the end of the summer before she sees Theo Burr again, visiting Philip at his new apartment on campus before she leaves for her own school. They've spent the morning so far playing video games on Philip's roommate's new system, swearing at and elbowing each other and eating most of a bag of Doritos between them. It's been a good day: Angie counts days like this, when she feels normal, happy.
Now she's sitting outside in the thick August heat, waiting for Philip to grab his school stuff. She's gazing aimlessly out over the campus, when one of the passerby catches her eye.
Walking down the sidewalk is Theo, hair pulled back in a scarf, in jeans and a white blouse. "Theo Burr," she says, leaning back on her hands.
Theo stops. She looks surprised for a moment, but recovers quickly with a smooth, "Angie Hamilton. I didn't think you'd even allow yourself to set foot in this place."
"So you do have a sense of humor," Angie shoots back. "Good to know." Theo looks like she'd like to roll her eyes. "I'm visiting my brother," Angie explains.
"Hm," Theo says.
Angie has no compunctions about rolling he eyes. "Yeah, I know, you think he's an ass."
"Because he is."
"And I think I warned you about talking shit about my brother," Angie says fiercely. "So, you know. Shut up."
"It's funny that you're so determined to be unlike your father," Theo says. "Because you seem to share quite a few traits with him. Rudeness, for one."
"Please," Angie says. "You don't even know my dad."
"I know enough," Theo says.
Angie opens her mouth to respond, but before she can Philip comes outside, saying, "Angie, hey, where—" He comes up next to her, and stops short when he sees Theo. "Burr."
"Hamilton," Theo says, so coldly that Angie realizes the tone she's been using before had almost been warm.
"Uh, well," Philip says, turning back to Angie. "I gotta do that study group thing with the guys, you know where you gonna be? It's gonna be like an hour or two."
"I'll meet you at the library."
"Sure." He tugs at her hair as he leaves, darting away quick enough that he swatting hand doesn't reach him.
"Asshole," she calls after him. He turns around, running backward for a few steps so she can see his wide, shit-eating grin.
Angie turns back to Theo, rolling her eyes. "Anyway," she says. Theo's giving her an odd look that Angie can't quite parse, and she doesn't know why but it bothers her. "You know where the good food is? My brother lives on Red Bull and takeout, he has no tastebuds left."
Theo raises her eyebrows. "But you'd trust my taste?"
"Well," Angie says, scanning Theo's classic, conservative outfit. "It might be a little stuffy, but at least it won't be the gas station convenience store.'"
"Stuffy, huh," Theo says. "That's how to flatter a girl."
Angie opens her mouth to reply, but snaps it closed again just as fast. Is Theo Burr flirting with her? Did Theo think Angie was flirting with her? Was Angie flirting with her?
But she recovers fast, saying, "Oh, I can do better than that."
Theo looks skeptical, but she might be fighting a smile, if the way the corner of her mouth twitches is any indication. "Really? I haven't seen any indication of that yet."
"Then you'll just have to stick around."
"Was that an invitation?"
"Was that?"
They stare at each other a moment. Theo's eyes are dancing, and Angie thinks she likes this even better than the spark. "Sure," Angie says boldly. "Lead the way."
"All right," Theo says, and Angie's sort of surprised: she expected Theo to escape somehow, was almost counting on it. But now Theo's turning to, in fact, lead the way, and Angie scrambles down the stairs, surprising herself by how eager she is to follow.
*
Theo picks a Middle Eastern place, not too boring but not too out there. Angie almost rolls her eyes, but the food is good, so she only makes a crack or two about it.
They argue about books and movies and music; Theo's read everything, Angie discovers, which is intimidating and, you know, kind of hot. Angie knows movies, though, and gets her back by ribbing her for her surprisingly terrible taste.
"I'm just saying," Angie says. "Citizen Kane is literally the best movie ever made. It can't be your favorite, that's such a cop-out."
"If it's literally the best movie ever made," Theo says, mocking her lightly, "that would seem like a good reason for it to be your favorite.
"That's what I'm saying, though," Angie says. "It's technically really good, okay. But that's not why something's your favorite."
"Then why is something your favorite?"
"Because you like it," Angie says, aware that she's talking louder than is probably normal. "Because it's what you want to watch when you have a bad day, because it's fun. Not because it's Orson fucking Wells."
Theo just raises her eyebrows. "Sure," she says, but not like she agrees.
Angie lets out a frustrated noise. "Don't just agree with me to end the argument, that's so annoying."
"Sure," Theo says again, and Angie's at least eighty percent sure she's just messing with her.
She glances at her phone. "Shit," Angie says, "I gotta go meet my brother."
Theo nods. Angie finishes the last piece of her falafel—cold, but still good—and she and Theo leave. The walk back to campus is strangely pleasant even in the hot summer air; it doesn't seem very long at all before Theo stops in front of one of the old houses on the edge of campus that have been portioned out into apartments.
"This one's mine," Theo says. They both pause, glancing at each other.
"So," Angie says.
"I'll see you around."
"Yeah." She's not sure what to do: this was a date, she's pretty sure, and a significant part of her wants to lean in, kiss Theo and see if she tastes the same as the soft vanilla scent of her perfume. But Theo's looking skittish, not as comfortable as she'd been inside the restaurant, and so Angie holds herself back. They sort of nod at each other, and smile, and then Theo turns away, and Angie goes to meet her brother.
*
Angie and Philip walk to the subway stop that night, side by side. Angie doesn't really want to go back home, even though she knows she's leaving for college in just a few days, even though she's excited for that. Something about her and Theo's lunch keeps nagging at her: Angie keeps thinking about how it probably doesn't mean anything, that she and Theo won't see each other again for another few months, maybe years, and by then they'll both forget about their sort-of date—or pretend to forget, in Angie's case—and they'll go back to being sort-of strangers. The thought bothers Angie more than she thinks it should.
"Hey," Philip says, flicking her ear. "What's up, chatterbox?"
"Ow. Fucker," Angie says without heat. "Nothing," she lies.
"No way, you got that look. What's up?" he asks again.
She shrugs. "Just tired. Not like that," she snaps at his concerned look. "I'm just tired, okay? I can still be fucking tired."
"Whoa," Philip says, holding up his hands. "I know, Ange. Sorry."
She scuffs her boot against the sidewalk, a little ashamed at her outburst. "No," she mutters, "I'm sorry. I'm being a dick."
Philip just reaches over, slinging an arm around the back of her neck and pulling her close enough to kiss the top of her head. They walk in comfortable quiet the rest of the way to the stop, where Philip pulls her into a real hug. "See ya," he tells her. "Good luck at school."
"Yeah," she says, burying her face in his shoulder for an extra moment before letting go. Sometimes she thinks she can still feel the scar on his side, even though she knows that it's nothing more than a pale line of skin below his ribs. She doesn't like to think about it, but she can't not: as she pulls away she's careful to avoid it.
They say their last goodbyes and she watches as Philip walks back toward campus. She starts down the stairs to the station, and she's almost halfway down before she makes a decision without really even consciously thinking about it.
Turning back around, she walks back to campus, to the building Theo had said was hers this afternoon. She rings the bell, and another girl answers it, raising her eyebrows.
"I'm looking for Theo?" Angie says breathlessly. "Theo Burr?"
The girl nods, letting in. "Top of the stairs, first door on the right."
"Thanks," Angie says, and then she's taking the steps two at a time, and knocking on Theo's door.
Theo opens it looking vaguely annoyed, but when she sees it's Angie her expression changes to one of surprise and—Angie hopes she isn't imagining this—happiness. "Um," Theo says, "hi."
"Hi," Angie says, still slightly breathless.
"What are you doing here?"
Angie takes a breath. "I had a lot of fun this afternoon," she tells her.
"Okay," Theo replies, looking nonplussed.
"I'm not interested in you because it'll piss off my dad," Angie pushes ahead. "And I know you're cynical and don't like getting attached to people—"
"—That's not true—"
"—but I actually really like you and I just wanted to say—"
Before she can say another word Theo leans forward, and before Angie knows what's happening Theo's kissing her, soft but confident. Angie makes an involuntary surprised noise, and Theo's hand comes up to rest on her jaw, tentatively. Angie kisses her back, not quite believing it but not about to back down from her chance.
Angie brings her hands up to Theo's waist, holding her close, and Theo makes a soft sound, pressing closer. They make out for what feels like hours before they pull back, breathing hard.
"I don't have to go home tonight," Angie says before she really thinks about it.
Theo looks down, and they're so close her hair brushes against the tip of Angie's nose. "I don't do this," she says finally.
"Okay," Angie says, swallowing back her disappointment.
"I mean, usually," Theo says, looking up again. "I usually don't this."
"And now?" Angie asks.
Theo doesn't answer, just kisses her again: this time it's not slow but heated, and Angie's ready, meeting her halfway. Theo pulls her back into her room, and Angie has the presence of mind to kick the door closed behind her, but only barely. Theo's mouth is impossibly soft, her hands on Angie's face warm and dry. Everywhere they touch feels electric, and Angie wants more, feels like she needs more.
Theo seems to feel the same, breaking the kiss only to begin kissing along the line of Angie's throat. Angie moans involuntarily, and she swears she can feels Theo smirking against her skin.
"Shut up," Angie mutters, and this time Theo looks up and Angie can see her smirk. Just for that, Angie pushes her back on the bed, climbing on top of her. When they go in to kiss again, they're both smiling.