Page 62 of The Triangle

Then… then his mouth was on mine.

His hand ripping down my bikini bottom.

And everything after happened so fast, I’m not sure I even remember it.

I just know I’m glad it happened.

Except now Danny knows. He’s colder. His typical scowl so much deeper. And even though I believe Alec when he says none of that’s about me, he’s wrong.

It’s all about me.

But tonight…

Tonight feels like it used to feel. Before. I wonder if it’s because with this Roderick guy gone, Alec feels freer or lighter. Maybe it’s just the newness of tonight. The Opera. Or maybe Danny is relaxing. Or…

I don’t know. And I don’t care. I’m just happy that it’s the way it used to be.

So I’m dancing.

Alec and Danny are laughing and have their arms around each other. It makes me so, so, so happy. And I do feel like I’m responsible for this. And that makes me dance harder, faster. And then I trip. And then I fall. Because I’m a terrible dancer.

And they also fall down, laughing. And we’re all silly, and giggly, and happy.

This is my life. I can’t believe it, but this is my real life.

I guess good things do happen to bad people.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Alec says, laughing and standing up. “I want to show you something.”

He stumbles to a stand and Danny and I laugh harder. Danny tumbles over and his head lands in my lap. I stroke his hair and he smiles, his laugh turning quiet.

Alec faces the windows and Sydney Harbour beyond. He takes off his jacket and in the reflection in the window we see him begin to unbutton his shirt.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Dance for me, Salomé!” Danny giggles out.

Alec finishes unbuttoning his tux shirt and strips it off. And when it hits the floor, we see…

“Holy shit,” I say, “When did you…?”

“About a week ago,” he answers the question I didn’t finish asking.

“Fuck, dude,” says Danny.

“It’s—” I start, before Alec cuts me off.

“It’s us,” he says. “Three points, converging, the lines bleeding into each other, making something strong and unbreakable. Like a diamond.”

Danny and I stand, slowly, mostly because we’re pretty drunk, and we walk over to Alec. I can see his smiling reflection in the window.

The tattoo still looks fresh, the skin around where ink has been injected still tender-looking. I reach out and trace one line of the triangle. Danny does the same with another of the lines. Alec’s head drops back, and he breathes in.

“Shit,” I say, “does it hurt still?”

“No, man. It’s exactly the opposite.”

And then a FLASH and a GLOVED HAND and now I’m falling. And I’m falling. And I’m falling! Fuck! Oh, fuck! Who—?