Chapter Seven
“Why do you look like someone took your favorite book and didn’t give it back?” asked Catherine as she walked into Angel’s living room and plopped down on the opposite sofa.
They both had the day off. Instead of doing something fun and productive, like learning how to surf, or going stand-up paddleboarding, or reading one of the many books Angel had bought but never got around to actually breaking the spines, they were decaying like corpses on the sofa.
Chicago Fire played on a loop in the background.
“I’m fine.”
“That isn’t what I asked,” stated Catherine and reached sideways, grabbing the glass of orange juice she had poured herself a minute ago. “I want to know why you’ve been acting like a grump all day. This is our day off. You’re supposed to be smiling.”
Angel looked at her friend and pulled her lips into a stiff and unappealing smile, like the Joker. “I’m smiling. Are you happy?”
“Does your bad mood have something to do with the redhead who nearly set her house on fire?” Catherine’s brows were raised curiously upward as if she knew the answer, but still found it necessary to ask the question.
Angel turned her attention to her bare feet and wriggled her toes.
Last night she had painted her toenails a bold red.
It was the first time she had ever used a color so bold and bright and by the time she had realized that her subconscious was responsible for the strange action, she discovered that she didn’t own acetone.
“I haven’t spoken to her.” Angel kept things vague. She didn’t want to get into a conversation about her beach date or the amazing sex afterward that had surprised her so much she had run away with barely a word.
“Why not?”
“I don’t have any reason to. We have nothing in common,” stated Angel. She couldn’t think of a person more opposite to herself. If Angel was Ying, then Samantha was clearly Yang. But then again, opposites attract. Negative poles were drawn to positive poles.
“You have lots in common,” pointed out Catherine before she gulped down the rest of her juice. She smacked her lips together and rested her head on her bent arm. “You put out fires, and she starts them!”
Angel gave her a blank look, which had Catherine in stitches.
“Okay fine. You’re both persistent when it comes to things you want.
I mean, she literally forced you to go on a date with her.
How was it, by the way? Did you end up kissing?
I always find rom-com movies to be a little kinky.
There always seems to be a hidden agenda behind all that PG kissing. ”
“We had sex.” Who was Angel kidding? She told Catherine everything.
“You did?” Catherine’s face lit up like a candle. She sprung up and off the sofa onto the coffee table across from Angel. “And? How was it? Tell me everything. I want all the details.”
It was euphoric, thought Angel. But instead, she said, “It was fine.”
“I know you’re lying when you say, ‘it’s fine’.” She used her fingers as inverted commas. “You’ve got a tell when you’re lying.”
“What tell?” Angel wasn’t aware she had any tells, as far as she knew she was perfectly capable of keeping herself closed with a little white lie.
“Your nose scrunches up.” Catherine leaned forward and poked Angel’s nose with a finger. “You do it every single time you lie. I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yourself.”
“Well, I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned it before,” said Angel sharply.
She couldn’t even count the number of years they had been friends on one hand—she needed three.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to watch Lieutenant Kelly Severide grapple with the emotional aftermath of his near-death experience. ”
Catherine didn’t budge. She sat firmly at the edge of the coffee table and leaned forward. “Are you ghosting her? The redhead. Because that’s quite a dick move, Angel. Rather, let someone down gently than ignore them.”
“Who says I’m ignoring her?”
With her lips pressed thin, Catherine shook her head, as if she didn’t believe her at all. She cocked her head to the side and stared directly into Angel’s soul with her piercing blue eyes. “So, you’re not ghosting her?”
“No,” said Angel tersely and stood up, towering over her friend while her chest rose and fell sharply.
Her mouth dried up and her heartbeat thumped in her head.
There was no reason to feel so strongly about something.
Well, not unless it was true. And it was true.
Angel was ghosting Samantha. She had hoped the fire dancer would lose interest and get bored of Angel like a child got bored with their new toy.
But judging by the many text messages and missed calls from earlier today, Samantha was clearly still interested.
“I’m merely keeping a distance. Back in the day, we all played hard to get, didn’t we? It’s only now, with phones and constant connectivity, that there’s this pressure to respond immediately. What happened to waiting a few days before calling?”
“You sound old beyond your years, Angel.”
Angel scowled and grabbed her cell phone from the sofa. Her well-sized living room was becoming too small. A drive along the beachfront would surely clear her head. So too would getting away from Catherine, who was asking all hard questions.
“Where are you going?”
“Leaving.”
“This is your house,” exclaimed Catherine when Angel had already slipped her bag over her shoulders and reached the front door.
“Be sure to lock it when you leave,” said Angel smartly, well aware that her friend would bring up this conversation tomorrow when they were both at work, possibly in front of other fellow firefighters.
Yet she still gripped the handle and swung the door open angrily.
A few short minutes later, she was driving aimlessly along the streets.
When the sparkly blue of the ocean waves came into sight, touched by a golden glow from the setting sun, Angel took a left and then continued along a tree-lined road until she took a right and then another left.
Surprisingly, she ended up at Samantha’s house.
The single story with its low wall and wooden gate came into view.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she muttered to herself as she brought the car to a stop.
Either she could reverse and turn the car around using the driveway across the street, so as not to be seen, or she could speed off quickly.
Samantha probably wasn’t even home. And even if she was, she wouldn’t recognize Angel’s car.
But then something caught her attention. A flame. A fucking flame.
“You can’t be serious.” Angel was out of the car in a second, ready to call the emergency services and beg them to send a truck for the third time. But when she reached the wall, she stopped.
It wasn’t a fire taking over the garden, but rather flames emanating from the sides of a staff. Samantha was fire dancing.
Angel stood frozen. Watching. Unable to move or do anything other than watch her.
“Wow,” she muttered under her breath.
Samantha was beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous.
The way she swung her arms, her movements so fluid, it was as if she was defying gravity.
And when she twisted her hips, and the firelight danced across her skin, making her appear luminescent, Angel couldn’t seem to remember why she was ghosting Samantha in the first place.
Why on earth was she avoiding Samantha’s calls and messages when she should have been the one to call her instead, to thank her for the other night?
It was at that moment in time that Angel couldn’t quite think of anything other than Samantha.
Was that what it felt like to be hypnotized?
Was she under her spell, as if drawn to the sensual way Samantha moved her body?
Angel allowed herself to be swept away by the dance, and when Samantha slowed down, the staff dropping to her waist, Angel did something unexpected. She called out to her. “SAMANTHA!”
The redhead jerked her head back. A startled expression flashed across her face and the flaming staff dropped to the ground.
“Oh shit!” stammered Angel and leaped into a run.
She was through the side gate and in the backyard in a matter of seconds.
Spotting the hose lying on the grass, she grabbed the nozzle, twisted it open, and directed a stream of water toward the flames.
Seeing as the fire hadn’t had much fuel to grow—the grass was still newly scorched—it was easy to douse the flames.
“What are you doing here?” asked Samantha when the fire was out. She looked exasperated, and a frown lined her face. Her shoulders were tense and rising up to her ears, and her gaze moved from the singed grass patch to Angel. “When did you get here? How long have you been watching me?”
“I thought I said no fire dancing,” snapped Angel.
It was a reaction to the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Clearly, her fight-or-flight response kicked in, although she never fled and always fought.
Besides, she couldn’t possibly confess that her subconscious had brought her there.
That her subconscious had made her paint her toes a bright red because the color itself reminded Angel of Samantha.
Not to mention that she had stood, for quite some time, watching her, completely mesmerized.
Samantha’s eyes widened, and her jaw slackened. “You… You were the one who distracted me. It’s your fault I dropped it.”
“My fault?”
“Yes, your fault. I was in the zone. It’s very important for me to concentrate when I’m in the zone and I wouldn’t have dropped my staff if you didn’t give me a fright.”
Given that it was partly Angel’s fault—although not completely since she hadn’t been the one to lose her grip—it was still appropriate that she apologized. “Fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to lose your concentration.
Samantha jutted her hip out to the side and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Just like those other times, she was barefoot. “I’ve been calling you; you know?”
“I know.”
“And you haven’t responded to any of my calls or texts,” said Samantha.
By the sad look on her face, she was obviously hurt.
Why wouldn’t she be? Ignoring someone, especially after a date, and especially after great, satisfying sex, was the worst thing for one’s ego.
Angel was sure her ego, albeit moderately sized and perfectly intact, couldn’t handle something like that.
“I know.”
Samantha tapped a bare foot impatiently on the grass. “Well then, what on earth are you doing here if you’re ghosting me?”
Angel sighed. There was no point in making up another excuse. According to Catherine, she was a terrible liar with a telltale sign. “I came to see you.”
“You did?”
“To apologize,” said Angel, and experienced a sensation similar to physical pain.
Two apologies in one day. It was a record for her.
The last time she had uttered the word ‘sorry’ more than once, it had been to a family who had lost a child.
At the memory, Angel shuddered and pushed the thought into the very back of her head and concentrated on the fire dancer.
Samantha’s eyes widened briefly while a smile took its place on her face. “Apology accepted. Would you like to come inside? I baked a loaf of banana bread this morning. It didn’t come out as I wanted it to, but it’s still tasty. We can have tea with it.”
“No thank you,” said Angel quickly. “I’ve got to get back.”
“To work? Have you got a lot of fires to put out?”
“Yes,” she lied and backed away. If Angel stayed, if she went into Samantha’s house, there was no way of knowing what she’d do.
A kiss would be far too tempting. Directing Samantha to her bedroom would be far too easy.
The only answer was to get the hell out of there before she did something she would regret.
“Tons of fires to put out. So, please try not to add to my workload, ok?”
By the time Angel had walked out of the gate and walked to her car, Samantha raised an arm up and waved.
The setting sun was hitting her at all the right angles so that she glowed like a fiery Greek goddess.
Slipping quickly into the driver’s seat, Angel couldn’t help but wonder if leaving was the wrong thing to do.
Banana bread sounded delicious. Sex with Samantha sounded even better.
Tempted to run back and grab Samantha’s waist, pressing her lips against hers, Angel started the car and drove off.