Dark Wolfe

13- Archangel Part 1 (The Floofy Hair Theory)

(Song of the chapter: 'Bottle You Up' - Zendaya)

RILEY

I watched my brother's new friend weave in and out of the crowd. I followed, far enough behind that she wouldn't notice me but still close enough to step in if something went awry.

From the little that Rhys had told me about her, the last thing she needed was to run into some pig at this party. It was almost like I was playing matchmaker between them.

Which was great. God knew my brother needed to get laid.

This made me think about the last time I'd gotten laid. I sighed.

I knew the facts. I was pretty and rich, and that came with a lot of perks.

But also with a rather unique set of problems.

A lot of the time people wanted to act like it was a crime for privileged people to have problems of their own. Which was, whatever, but when you're in it, you could see the holes that all the money in the world couldn't close.

My brother hated the attention and invasions of his privacy. He completely detested it. In fact, left to his own devices I was sure he would have built some cabin in the woods and moved there to spend the rest of his days with only his three best friends.

He'd let me drop by sometimes though. Or more. It would need some negotiation, but not much I'm sure.

I was his favorite sister; his puny little heart obviously beat with love for me.

For me though, I embraced it all - the perks and the problems. My mom was a model, and now they'd like me to model too? Sign me up. People on the outside could scream 'nepotism' till they were blue in the face, I was not quitting my job. I loved my job, and I was good at my job.

Of course I knew I was born with advantages. I'm not stupid. Not that that stopped them from assuming that I was, although common sense would dictate that rich people could afford a boatload of tutors.

Which I'd had. I'd done the work and gotten the grades that landed me a spot in Yale - Yale, not Harvard. I could've gone there too, since I'd qualified and that was also where my dad had graduated from, but I wanted to prove that it was my achievements that got me into a great college.

The all-knowing disembodied beings behind their hidden profiles just screamed some other accusation at me, but I knew. I knew it was me, and that was enough.

Let's see: that was a perk, then a problem. Okay, here's another perk: When you're famous and pretty, a lot of people want to sleep with you. And I mean a lot. Actors, singers, politicians, you name it. Even fellow models too.

Oh yeah, I had mixed business with pleasure many, many times.

But then she came along, with her cool accent and beautiful face and nice-smelling hair. Her eyes had begged me not to let her down - to be this perfect, larger-than-life fairytale wish come true, who she'd have all to herself forever and we'd live happily ever after.

I'd screwed that up astronomically.

I had no business even going near her in the first place, I knew that. She'd been through a lot of hard times, and wanted promises I couldn't - and ultimately didn't - deliver.

But it's not as if I went into the relationship intending to hurt her. As stupid as it sounds, I actually wanted to be her fairytale. I wanted to live up to her expectations, because for the first time in my life someone other than my parents thought I could be someone great.