Angelica stepped through the front door of the Schuyler Manor and shut it quietly behind her. She tuned around, starting to unravel her scarf but stopped suddenly.

Her blood ran ice cold.

Alexander was crouched on top of Eliza on the couch, arms secure at her sides as he ran his tongue down the side of her neck. His shirt was carelessly unbuttoned and Eliza's hands were roaming up his chest to his hair.

Their lips were locked tightly, and their eyes had been closed.

But they both swerved to look at Angelica at the sound of the door opening.

"Oh my god ... Angelica, I ..." Eliza whispered, cheeks aflame. Angelica saw the apology and awkwardness in her Sister's eyes as she watched her.

Angelica couldn't speak.

She couldn't breathe.

Her gaze was locked on Alexander, who climbed off Eliza faster than a gazelle out of a truck's path. He stood up and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, smoothing a hand down his hair and adjusting his clothes.

He didn't meet Angelica's eyes.

"I told you we should have taken it to my room," Eliza hissed, her cheeks flushed a wild, tomato red. She slapped her boyfriend on the arm and stood up, and Angelica realised her Sister's clothes were not properly worn either.

Angelica felt sick.

She felt hurt.

She felt the sting to her pride like the bee was as large as the Earth.

But worst of all - she felt that she had lost Alexander. Doing it so bluntly in the living room was an honest, cruel dig at Angelica. He was trying to make a point, trying to tell her I don't need you, like you don't need me. Love? Who said I loved you that much?

"I have homework," was what came out of Angelica's mouth, and then she had run across the room and up the stairs so fast you could hardly have seen her.

She rushed into her room and slammed the door shut.

And only then, did she allow the tears to come out of hiding.

:::

An hour later, Eliza showed up.

She opened Angelica's door and shut it gently behind her, turning to find her sister's figure sitting in front of her desk and staring at her math books.

Angelica's head swerved upwards at her sister's entry. She cursed foully in her mind.

Why didn't I lock the damn door?

"Hey," Eliza said softly, moving slowly over. "Are you okay? Don't worry, I sent Alex home. So we have all the time to ourselves."

There was an uncertainty in her eyes as she moved to sit on her Sister's bed.

"It's just that — you kind of ran off there, and ... I didn't get a chance to say sorry."

Do I have tears? Am I crying? Angelica tried as subtly as she could to wipe away any excess tears from her face before Eliza could see. The last thing she needed was Eliza knowing ... well, everything, basically.

"Sorry?" Angelica scoffed, turning to face her Sister with a strained smile. "Whatever for? He's — he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to go crazy with ... your boyfriend."

She sounded like such an idiot.

A wave of something seemed to wash over Eliza's face. Like she was just realising something. She leaned back slightly, an unrecognisable expression on her face.

"I see what's happening here," she said in a tone Angelica didn't understand.

Angelica felt as if she was struck by lightning.

"What?" She blurted. "You do?"

Eliza looked at her, "Of course I do," she said — and then she was smiling warmly. "I'm your sister, aren't I? You've known me since I was a baby. I mean, of course it must be hard for you to see me grow up and do 'grown up things' ... Really, I should have noticed long before."

Angelica couldn't tell whether it was right for her to feel relief or not. She felt it anyways.

"Yeah, that's right," Angelica said, her face breaking out into a genuine smile. "Heh — you're so smart now. Before, I couldn't even get you to understand simple math problems." She wasn't lying as she said this.

Eliza laughed, "God! I remember those days."

The sisters continued to laugh in every recount of their childhood as it popped up — the rocking horse they used to fight over, Eliza breaking her nose on a brick wall — and eventually, the two girls were laughing and crying so hard all was practically forgotten.

"I'm so happy," Eliza said, grinning widely. "that I came up here and had this conversation with you. I feel like I really understand you now."

A heavy spiral of guilt came twisting into the core of Angelica's stomach. She swallowed it with a warm smile, although she couldn't hide the sadness in it.

"I'm glad too, junior," she whispered.

"Can I have a hug?" Eliza asked.

"Oh my god, why do you even ask?" And then the two sisters were leaning into each other and hugging each other so tight while laughing and crying like they were kids again.

Although, Angelica thought that they both knew, nothing now was ever going to be as simple as childhood.

Ever again.

:::

It was 11:00 pm. Angelica was lying on the covers of her bed, waiting and feeling the cold, sick hole in her stomach grow until it eventually ate up all the organs in her body, including her heart.

God. God.

God, help me, Angelica thought fervently, eyes closed. What do I do with Alexander? He's mad at me.

And I'm lying to my sister. My beautiful, trustworthy, amazing baby sister. Is that right? Can I ever forgive myself after this? After lying to bluntly to her, and keeping secrets?

And what do I do with Thomas?

There was a soft ping. Angelica's eyes flicked opened.

She sat up groggily, feeling the weight of her exhaustion heave on her back as she turned to look at her lit up phone screen on her nightstand.

It was a message.

From an anonymous number.

Angelica knew those words all too much. She sat upright as soon as they registered, turning and picking up her phone so that she was staring at the message face to face.

Hey, beautiful.

Thomas?

And then the same number began to call. Angelica exhaled a groggy sigh, but moved to pick up the call anyways.

She wanted to know, after all, why Thomas Jefferson had her phone number.

"How did you get my number?" She said bluntly, as soon as she had accepted.

"Ooh, you sound tired, gorgeous. Did I wake you?"

Not really.

"Please. Like I'd get out of bed just answer your call," Angelica said, scoffing lightly, although that had been somewhat the case. She raked a handful of curled hair out of her face. "Why are you calling me, anyways?"

Thomas pouted, a crackling sound, "Aw, what? Am I not allowed to call my girl for a kiss goodnight?"

His words struck something raw inside her. Angelica felt herself go numb as she waited another moment before saying, "I'm not your girl, Thomas."

"Yeah, you are," and then his voice had turned dark. "You are definitely my girl, Angelica Schuyler — no matter what you say."

The hairs on her spine stood up, as if they had been pricked with electricity.

She did not like his tone of voice.

"Thomas, I have to go now," Angelica told him, her voice as cold as ice. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait!" The hoarse voice screaming through my phone made her pause briefly. "Are you cold, princess? Send me your address, and maybe I can come over and — warm you up."

What?

Oh, hell. Now, she was just angry.

I can't believe I thought I liked this asshole, that he wasn't the guy everyone saw him to be. But he is.

He is exactly as we had all made him out to be.

Angelica felt the sting to her pride. The cruel wave of disappointment wash down her nervous system. But she swallowed it, so she could give him a piece of her mind.

So they could at least end on the deserving note.

"You know, you really fooled me Thomas," Angelica snapped, feeling all emotions rise up in her throat. "We used to laugh at you and say how stuck up you were. And recently, I've felt different. That maybe you weren't like that at all ... who knew anyone could be so wrong."

She thought he would be angry. She expected him to be angry.

But he just replied back in a dark, sugary voice, "What did you expect, princess? I'm Thomas Jefferson. I tell people not to expect anything more than the devil reincarnated himself."

Angelica felt tears bite at her eyes, and had no idea why.

Her lips parted, and she spoke as loud and slow and clear as she possibly could in that state of mind.

"Lose my number."

She hung up on him, and found that all that was left of her was the sound of the phone dial: empty and dead and ringing.