Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
ANGEL
The guys are talking baseball, but I stopped paying attention the minute Ricky showed up. Or more like sauntered up. I haven’t seen the guy since… I don’t know. It’s probably been years by now.
I was on the high school football team with his brother, Nico, so I used to see Ricky around all the time. But then I graduated and started working full-time, and he moved out to Brooklyn a couple years later. He doesn’t come back often, I don’t think. Or maybe our paths just haven’t crossed.
He’s wearing a pair of black jeans that look like they’re painted onto his legs. His t-shirt is just as tight, showing off his lithe, toned body. And I swear I can see the outline of his nipples on either side of the rainbow unicorn on his chest. His hair is pulled back and up, leaving his long, elegant neck exposed. His boots have these super-thick soles, giving him a couple extra inches in height .
I think he’s wearing makeup? His eyes look darker and more… I don’t know, smoky or something?
He laughs as the guys say their hellos and his lips glisten when he smiles wide. I hang back. I don’t know him as well as the other guys and they’re all over him already. He doesn’t need my paws getting into his personal space too.
But once he disappears into the house, the image of him stays with me. He looks so… happy? No, it’s more than that. He looks confident, sure of himself, poised. He dazzles. Like a movie star who shines too bright for a simple suburban neighborhood like ours.
He was always like that, even when we were kids. He was never a part of the cool crowd, but as Nico’s little brother, he didn’t get picked on by the cool kids either. He wasn’t a nerd, wasn’t artsy. He didn’t fit into any of the clearly defined groups that divided us as kids. He’s always just been Ricky.
I’ve always found that brave. I admired it. He knew he wasn’t like everyone else and he didn’t bother hiding it. That’s not an easy thing to do around here, where all the families know each other and gossip travels faster than wildfire. Where people aren’t afraid of voicing their opinions, and judgment comes down hard and heavy without a second thought.
It’s no wonder he left as soon as he was old enough. It’s no wonder he rarely comes home. This place is too small for someone like him.
“Who wants another round?” Mario asks, holding up his empty beer bottle.
He’s one of the guys I’m closest to in the group, and we also work for the same construction company, building condos and office towers in Manhattan.
I snatch the bottle from him. “I’ll grab it.”
The guys pile their bottles in my arms, and I head inside to dump them in the kitchen. Just as I’m tossing the last one into a clear trash bag, someone steps in from the backyard, slips past me, and disappears up the stairs.
Was that Ricky?
I poke my head into the stairwell just in time to see the heel of a black boot vanish around the corner. My foot is on the first step before I can stop myself.
What am I doing? Am I trying to follow him upstairs? To do what? Say hello?
I don’t even know Ricky that well. We’re not really friends, barely acquaintances. I doubt he remembers me from when we were younger. Nico was a popular guy, and I’ve always stayed at the edge of the crowd.
Ricky’s probably just grabbing something and coming right back down. There’s no reason for me to go up there. And yet, my foot doesn’t come off the bottom step.
A few moments pass and there are no sounds coming from the second floor. No footsteps or creaking floorboards. No Ricky jogging down the stairs.
My other foot lands on the second step.
Seriously. What am I doing? If I wanted to say hello, I should’ve done it earlier when we were in the driveway like a normal person. I’m being creepy. He probably wants to be alone. Maybe something happened, someone said something, and he needs a minute to himself. I know what that’s like.
I take another step and the tread groans under my weight. No one seems to notice, though—not from upstairs or from downstairs. I keep going.
This is ridiculous. He’s going to think I’m stalking him. I’m a big dude, and people who don’t know me think I’m intimidating. I don’t want to scare him. But I don’t stop.
I’ve never had a chance to come up here before. Back in high school, Nico’s room was in the basement and the team hung out down there sometimes. But all the houses in the neighborhood were built at the same time and have pretty much the same layout.
The primary bedroom is at the end of the hall. Two more bedrooms on the left and a bathroom on the right. It’s not difficult to figure out where Ricky is.
I stop short in the doorway of the second bedroom. Ricky’s sitting on the bed, legs crossed at the knees, drink in one hand, cell phone in the other. He doesn’t notice I’m there.
I clear my throat, not sure how else to let him know he’s not alone.
He snaps his head around. The initial shock, tinged with a hint of fear, quickly morphs into a frown.
“Sorry!” I say, holding my hands up. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Except, I totally did. Why else did I come up here all by myself, uninvited and unannounced?
“That’s okay,” Ricky says. His voice is soft, lyrical, almost like he’s singing. He cocks his head to the side. “You’re… Angel, right?”
He remembers my name. My ears warm as they flush pink. Why does he remember my name? “Yeah, I’m friends with your brother.”
Ricky nods. “The football team. ”
“Yeah.” I lift a hand to my jaw, fingers scratching the short hairs of my beard. It’s a nervous habit I have. Because suddenly, I’m super nervous. My tummy feels all strange and unsettled. My palms are a little clammy. I shift back and forth on my feet. Why did I come up here again?
Ricky studies me, examines me, cataloging everything from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. Then his lips twitch. “You just gonna stand there, big boy? Or you gonna come in?”
My ears burst into flames, and my tummy does a flip-flop thing that’s never happened before. A part of me wants to dash back downstairs and race outside to where the guys are waiting for their beers.
But another part of me wants to stay. I don’t know why. This is weird and strange and… my feet carry me forward of their own accord.
When Ricky pats the bed next to him, I sit down, feeling a little too bulky and rough for the frilly, pink covers under me. Ricky shifts, folding one knee on the mattress so he can sit sideways, facing my direction. I flatten my palms against my thighs, not sure what else I’m supposed to do with them.
His gaze is warm and weighty on the side of my face as he watches me. I can’t bring myself to return it. Instead, I glance around the room.
It looks like a teenage girl lives here. But since Nico and Ricky don’t have a sister, I assume the room belonged to Ricky when he was still living at home.
“This is, um, nice.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Ricky arching one elegant eyebrow. He looks like he’s trying to suppress a smile. “You think so? ”
Not really. “Yeah, um, it’s very… pink.”
He snickers and his smile widens, and in spite of the funny feelings he elicits in me, I turn to watch. His eyes are a deep brown, framed by long, dark lashes. There’s a slight blush across the tops of his cheekbones. His lips are pink and shiny.
I’ve never seen a guy with makeup on before. Not unless they’re an actor or something. The idea sounds odd to me—why would a guy want to wear makeup? But seeing Ricky made up like this, it actually looks really cool. His eyes are so dramatic. His lips look so plump and soft. I can’t stop staring.
“My teenage self thanks you.”
“Huh?” His what? Oh. The room. Right.
Ricky laughs and the sound skips along my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re cute?”
The burn on my ears spreads to my cheeks. I duck my chin and scratch my jaw, trying to hide the flush. I don’t know why I’m blushing so hard, or why my skin is tingling, or why my tummy feels all fluttery. Heck, I don’t even know why I’m up here in the first place.
These feelings are so foreign, so unfamiliar. But I think I like them.
“So, um, how come you’re not downstairs with everyone else?” I ask when a beat passes in silence.
Ricky’s smile fades a bit, and I immediately regret asking.
I hurry to apologize. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”
Ricky shakes his head and sighs. “No, it’s fine. To be honest, I wish I could’ve skipped the party altogether. ”
My brow furrows in confusion as my gut objects to the suggestion. “But it’s your dad’s sixtieth birthday,” I say, as if that’s the reason why I think he needs to be here, and not because I’m kind of enjoying sitting on this bed with him.
“Yeah, I know. It’s just…” He shrugs and picks at a loose thread on his jeans. There are traces of color on his fingernails, like he tried to remove nail polish but couldn’t get it all off. “Things are always weird with my parents.”
I shift, angling myself toward him a little more. I don’t like how subdued he’s suddenly become. I want to see that smile of his again. “What do you mean?”
He doesn’t answer for a moment, instead peeking up at me through his lashes. My breath hitches in my chest, and the fluttering in my stomach intensifies. Why is he looking at me like that? Why does it make me feel so funny? Why do I like it so much?
Ricky drops his gaze and I remind myself to draw in a lungful of air. My heart is hammering against my ribs. My hands are curled into fists on my thighs.
“I look like this.” He uses his free hand to gesture to himself, like he’s presenting himself to me.
I take in the stray strands of hair framing his face, the little pout of his bottom lip, the proud way he holds himself tall.
“My parents don’t understand why and I don’t know how to explain it to them. So we all just pretend there’s nothing wrong, even though we all know there definitely is.” He drops his hand in his lap and his shoulders slump a bit in defeat. “It’s fine.”
Except it doesn’t sound fine at all. It sounds kind of sad .
I don’t know what to say. “Sorry” is so empty and meaningless that it’d almost be offensive if I said it. Obviously, I have no idea what it’s like to be in his shoes. I’ve always blended in more than I stood out. But there’s something about the way he said “fine” that reaches into me and tugs—hard.
Ricky waves his hand in the air, as if to shoo away the sadness that’s creeped in around us. “Anyway, enough about me and my daddy issues. What about you? Why are you up here?” He gives me a light poke in the arm.
The spot tingles, even though the touch was barely there. I curl my fists a little tighter so I don’t reach up to trace it with my fingers.
Why am I up here? Heck if I know. “I, um, it was, uh, I just needed a break from… you know.”
Ricky’s eyes dance with laughter as I stammer my way through my incoherent non-answer. My ears are burning so hot, I’m gonna need to dunk my head in a bucket of cold water. Ugh, what’s happening to me? I drop my face into my hand, trying to hide the unexpected, inexplainable reactions I’m having.
“God, you’re adorable,” he says softly. “A giant teddy bear.”
The comment makes me blush harder. Whyyy? This is so embarrassing.
Delicate yet strong fingers land on my wrist, and Ricky gently pulls my hand away. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be shy around me. This is a no-judgment zone.”
I believe him.
With my friends and family in the neighborhood, they’ll invite me into their house if I show up out of the blue. They’ll drop everything to help me with anything. But being a part of the community comes with certain requirements. It comes with a price.
I’ve always paid it, but Ricky hasn’t.
He’s an outsider. He’s not bound by expectations or rules. He doesn’t fit into a box and doesn’t care what other people think. He doesn’t have any strings attached.
Not like me.
That must be freeing.