We pranced throughout the house, grabbing each other to rock in sync. Dopamine flooded my brain to make me forget about my nerves and aching feet.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, my heart overflowing. “Angel?”
“Yes, pigeon?”
“I wanted to tell you something.”
“Is it that you like my dancing?”
“No.” I giggled.
“No?” He scoffed, all dramatics as he hoisted me over the edge of the couch.
“Ah, Angel, no,” I cried as we tumbled onto the cushions together.
Our laughter drowned out the music.
“I prefer when you say, ‘Angel, yes,’ he teased, kissing down my neck.
I stroked his silky, white-streaked hair and moaned theatrically. “Oh, Angel, yes.”
He sucked the skin.
I gasped, tightening my legs around his. “Oh, yes.”
He smirked and propped himself up. “That’s more like it, pidge.”
I giggled, basking in his gaze.
His confident smile, the drape of his soft, white hair with the golden arrow ear piercing poking through, and the adoration swimming in his bright eyes emboldened me to caress his face and say what I’d been holding in for weeks:
“Angel, I love you.”
His eyes widened. Pupils blew out.
For one heart-rending moment, my insides stretched like elastic just about to snap.
His lips parted, and he leaned closer. “You…”
Something creaked, then slammed.
He cursed and scrambled upright.
I tried to get out of his way without flopping onto the floor like a forgotten pancake. “Was that the door?” I asked.
“Yes,” he hissed, scrambling for the cake container.
“Helloooo,” a dulcet feminine voice with the faintest West Coast accent called. “We’re home.”
“Who’s ‘we?’” I whispered. His Mom and who else?
The woman in question headed through the living room into the kitchen wearing designer loungewear, a set of expensive sunglasses serving to keep her silky white-blonde hair out of her pretty face. She looked almostthe same as she did in the photograph in the hallway with her and Angel as a kid. At the sight of our stuff out, she gasped.
“What's this?” she asked, though I wasn’t sure she’d even spotted me or Angel yet.
“Hey, Mom. You’re home early,” Angel said, swiping his hair back.
“Yes.” Her big eyes finally seemed to flit over us, and she gave me a friendly, if incredulous wave. “Hi.”
