“Damn.” He pouts and finishes off the rest of his beer.
I pat him on the shoulder and address the table. “Are we all done? Or do we want another round?”
“We’re all done, Angie. We gotta get this guy back to his wife.”
With a nod, I turn on my heels to print out their receipt and drop it off, leaving them with a parting wave. When they’re gone and I’ve finished my closing work, I clock out and duck out before anyone can stop me.
As I’m walking down the street to my car, the fire truck rolls down the street with its sirens on. When Brandon told me that Malcolm was a firefighter, I prayed that he wasn’t part of the group that regularly hangs out at Blue Pint Outpost after shift. I’ve gotten lucky and haven’t been scheduled to work on days when they’re supposedly there, because I’ve been told he frequents my place of work. And Brandon and I have had luck on our sides that his brother doesn’t pop in unexpectedly. I don’t know how I’d react to seeing him. From what Brandon says, Malcolm is a loose cannon and competitive to a fault. I mull over it on my entire drive to his place and I’m still thinking about it when I knock on his front door.
“Hi, Angel,” he greets me with a smile.
“Hi to you, too,” I say as I step forward, wrapping my arms around his waist and greeting him with a kiss. Brandon tightens his arms around me when I try to step away and deepens the kiss. My bag falls from my shoulder with a thud, and I kick the door closed. Our teeth clash and our tongues tangle as if we’ve been separated for a year and not weeks. Brandon dips down and picks me up by the back of my thighs and walks us blindly over to his couch. I push my hands into his hair and angle his head to deepen the kiss. My hips begin to move, and Brandon’s heavy hands fall on my waist to stop me.
He breaks the kiss and trails his lips to my neck and exposed chest. “I don’t wanna come in my pants.”
“So take off your pants.”
I feel his teeth as he smiles into my neck and I pull back to look at him. His wild eyes and now messed-up hair from my hands make me feel like I’ve conquered the world. With a smacking kiss to his lips, I slide off his lap.
“You’re in a good mood. Did something happen?”
I swipe my thumb over his bottom lip to remove the Chapstick that smeared onto him. “Nope. Oh! Harvey tried setting me up with his son. But I had to turn him down.”
“You did, did you?”
“Yeah. He was way too old for me anyway.”
Brandon places his hand on my knee. “How old was he?”
“Forty-seven.”
He throws his head back and laughs freely. I watch with a smile as tears appear at the corner of his eyes.
“I’m glad you find this amusing.”
“I’m sorry,” he wheezes.
I leave him to gather himself when the oven beeps and take out what looks like a lasagna. I see Brandon out of the corner of my eye with his arms crossed over his chest. Just watching me. He does that a lot. At first, I was a little unnerved by how attentive his gaze was. But over time, I realized he does it because he cares. He’s one of the first people to care about me who goes beyond the familial duties. In the short time we’ve been together, I can’t help but picture my future with him. And with my depression, picturing the future has been something I’ve never been able to do—until now.
21
BRANDON
NOVEMBER
“Thanksgiving,” I say when I walk into the kitchen.
“Is a holiday…?” Angie quips as she takes a sip of her coffee.
“Well, yes. But I was wondering what your plans were.”
The best part of my home is that no matter what spot you’re at, the sunrise will always find a way to light up the darkest corners. And in the kitchen is no different. The morning sun bounces off the hardwood floors and onto Angie, making her look ethereal with her blonde hair glowing and her blue eyes so clear it’s hypnotizing.
“It’s two weeks away. But my plans are the same as they always are: watch the parade, then play the piano until I’ve run out of songs to play, maybe eat something, and then sleep,” she lists like it’s nothing.
“Your parents aren’t doing anything this year?”
“I haven’t asked. But maybe?”
