Chapter Seventeen
“So, what do you feel like doing on your day off?” asked Samantha sprightly as she bounced into the kitchen, heading straight for the kettle. “I was thinking—”
“Sam,” interrupted Angel. She had planned on doing absolutely nothing on her day off.
That was the point. A day off should be a day to do nothing.
The best way to catch up on some sleep was to sleep.
She was even beginning to regret mentioning that she had a day off when Samantha had climbed out of bed earlier and offered to make coffee.
“I’m sure you’ve got work to do today, don’t you? ”
Samantha, who was standing at the sink, pouring water into the kettle, turned to look back over her shoulder and frowned. “I’ve got the day off, too.”
“No, you don’t,” said Angel. She didn’t believe in coincidences, at least not when it came to the red bombshell standing half-dressed in her kitchen.
“I do,” grinned Samantha. “I’m my own boss and I’ve decided to give myself the day off. Well done, Sam. You deserve it.”
“Is that so?” chuckled Angel. Strangely enough, she had only discovered last night that Samantha was a freelance worker.
After Angel had shared her nightmare, and Samantha listened intently, not giving unsolicited advice, they had delved into other things: Samantha’s job as a content writer.
Her obsession with baking. Her habit of killing every beautiful flower that had ever existed in her garden, and her obsession with Queen Latifah.
Angel had even shared more about her own life; how her parents had grown apart in their old years and decided to divorce.
How she had joined the fire department fresh out of college where she had studied humanities.
How her first kiss with a woman named Sally had been rather disastrous since Sally had been dating Angel’s best friend at the time, a boy named Eric Jackson, who himself had come out of the closet only a few years ago.
“It is,” said Samantha matter-of-factly and abandoned the kettle on the counter to close the gap between them.
Slipping her palms underneath Angel’s pajama top, she kissed her lightly on the lips, once, twice and then a third time before she muttered softly, “I’d love to spend the day with you.
But only if you feel like it, of course.
I don’t want to put you on the spot and pressure you into doing something you don’t want to. Feel free to kick me out.”
Even though Angel wanted a relaxing day off, the one thing she didn’t want was to see Samantha go.
Spending the day with her sounded strangely good, weirdly comforting.
“Alright then. But how about we do absolutely nothing today? It would be perfect to just lounge on the sofa and watch reruns of Chicago Fire while we eat ourselves into a coma.”
Samantha frowned. “Is that really what you want to do on your day off?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s a little boring, Angel. Don’t you want to do something fun? Something you haven’t done but really want to do?”
There were at least a hundred things Angel had set out to do on her days off but had never gotten around to doing. Often, it was easier to do nothing, especially when she was exhausted.
“Fine,” she relented, only because she had no energy to convince Samantha that decaying on the sofa could be just as fun as actually doing something, especially after having almost no sleep last night.
“How about this?” grinned Samantha widely and slid her hands up and down along Angel’s back. The feeling was so lovely that goosebumps broke out all over Angel’s body.
A thought struck her then. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to wake up to someone like Samantha every morning. It would be quite lovely to amble half naked into the kitchen and make coffee, and to playfully argue about what to do on their day off.
“I’ll write down something I want to do today on a piece of paper,” continued Samantha. “And you do the same. We can then throw the choices into a hat and whichever one we choose; we can do that.”
A game of chance. How fitting.
“Alright then. Let me get us some paper.”
Breaking free from Samantha’s grip, Angel ran to the small foyer where the console table stood against the wall and tugged open the drawer.
Inside was a pad of sticky notes in case she wanted to leave herself a message on the mirror hanging over the console table, and four sharpened HB pencils.
There was also the spare key to the front door and a bookmark she had gotten from a little girl she had saved from a fire some time ago.
Grabbing two pencils and a single pink sticky note, she hurried back to the kitchen and tore the piece of paper perfectly in half, a skill she had developed over the years for absolutely no reason at all.
Even the circles she drew were near perfect.
“Okay, so write your idea on the piece of paper—but nothing extravagant. I’d like to be able to wake up tomorrow without any body pains. And absolutely no fire dancing.”
At least Samantha had refrained from practicing the rather precarious art of fire dancing over the last few days, but who knew how long that would last. Samantha wasn’t the type of woman to be stilted by someone else’s commands.
“Deal. And considering that you’ve got rules on what I can or can’t write down, I’ve got a rule for you too,” said Samantha and pointed the back of the pencil in Angel’s direction. “No sofa and no television.”
Dammit. Angel had every intention of writing both of those words down on the small piece of paper. She’d even thought about adding sex-on-sofa as a side activity.
“Fine,” she sighed. “And remember to fold the sticky note exactly four times. So there’s no cheating.”
They both turned to opposite ends of the kitchen and bent over their own small, ripped sticky note to scribble down their choice of activity.
It felt as though Angel was back in high school, writing down the name of her crush before folding the paper into the tiniest bundle possible and swallowing it down—it only occurred to her years later that swallowing paper might not have been the best idea for her gut health.
“Ready,” asked Samantha. She was grinning ear to ear as she grabbed a baseball cap off a hook at the back door of the kitchen. “And because this is your house, you can choose.”
“How thoughtful,” teased Angel, but before she took the folded-up paper and cap from Samantha’s outstretched hand, she wrapped an arm around the redhead’s waist and pulled her into a kiss.
Samantha’s lips were soft, and her breath tasted like toothpaste.
The kiss deepened. If Angel played her cards right, she could usher them right back up to the bedroom.
“This better not be some trick to get me into bed and forget about doing something fun today,” muttered Samantha. Her lips were now an inch away from Angel’s.
Angel sighed. “Fine. You got me. Now let’s choose and get it over with.”
With her eyes closed and digging her hand into the upside-down cap, Angel fumbled with the two folded sticky notes. It was impossible to distinguish hers from Samantha’s, and so she chose the first one she could.
It read: Paddleboarding at Huntington Beach Harbor.
“Are you serious?” stammered Angel, both shocked and disappointed. “Paddleboarding. Do you want me to drown?”
Samantha laughed. “You’ll be fine. What did yours say?”
“A picnic at the Plaza.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” shrugged Samantha. “But I’m glad we’re going with mine. It’ll be fun. I promise.”
~~
The sun was hanging directly above their heads when Angel and Samantha arrived at the rental place at Huntington Harbor. It was only a few minutes later when they had been escorted to the small beach where they launched the paddleboards.
Angel, who grew up in the mountains and not at the beach like Samantha, preferred to enjoy the ocean from a distance.
It was less dangerous that way. Her swimming capabilities were mediocre at best. She could save herself from drowning, but wouldn’t be able to save anyone else. Fire was her strength, not water.
“It’s a bit windy, don’t you think?” remarked Angel as she dropped the board to the sand and tilted her head up, studying the sky. Her ponytail was flapping in the breeze and white frothy ripples dotted the usually smooth water surface. “What if we can’t get through a headwind?”
“Then we just paddle harder,” said Samantha as she glided her paddleboard into the water and headed after it.
With a quick leap onto the board, Samantha found her balance and rose up onto two feet.
“Come on, Angel. The water won’t bite.” She chuckled and dipped her paddle into the water, propelling herself effortlessly forward.
It looked easy enough.
Grabbing the board, Angel found it surprisingly light for something so big and headed to the water that lapped onto the shore.
But it wasn’t that easy. As soon as Angel stepped onto the paddleboard, her balance wavered and wobbled as cool water splashed against her ankles.
She felt like a baby giraffe finding its footing and failing miserably.
Nearly falling over the edge of the board, she braced her core and concentrated on the board and the paddle in her hand.
“Wider stance,” instructed Samantha. “Otherwise, get on your knees.”
There was no way Angel was going on her knees when Samantha was basically lapping circles around her.
Every ounce of her competitive fire came out in moments like these.
She’d tear a muscle before she gave up and took the easy route.
Miraculously, Angel found her balance, even with the choppy waters.
Not that it was that much of a miracle, since she was the type of person who was relatively good at everything, or at least average enough to get by.
“I’m doing it,” she called as she dipped her paddle in, pushed off using the water, and glided forward. It also helped that the wind was blowing up from behind them and not in front of them. “Easy peasy!”
“Don’t get too confident,” laughed Samantha as she floated closer to Angel, her nose nearly bumping Angel’s board. “Water is like fire. It’s completely unpredictable.”
“When did you get so smart?” joked Angel. “It sounds like something I’d say to you.”
Samantha shrugged and gave Angel her best rendition of a wink—Samantha was awful at winking.
Angel had discovered that this morning when the redhead had tried to haggle for free passes at the paddleboarding shop.
Angel had a suspicion that they had ended up paying double.
“It does, doesn’t it? I guess I’ve learned from the best.”
“The day we stop learning is the day we stop growing,” Angel recited the quote her father always used to say whenever she protested going to school.
“My grandmother always used to say that, too,” remarked Samantha.
“She sounds like she was a very wise woman.”
Samantha nodded, her eyes beginning to glisten with the telltale signs of imminent tears.
It was obvious that Samantha and her grandmother were close.
Angel had experienced a similar thing with her grandfather, although it was a little different since Angel was a kid when he died.
Another ten years with him would’ve been the biggest blessing.
“Do you miss her?”
“Every day. We were very close. She even left me her house when she died. It was quite the thing. All the cousins were furious. But my gran believed a house to be an embodiment of a person, and I was the most like her. I think she wanted her house to live on. I know it’s not the easiest thing to understand. ”
“I understand,” said Angel quickly. She would’ve reached out and interlaced her fingers with Samantha’s if she wasn’t dead sure she’d end up falling into the water. “And I’m sure she’s up there, chewing on some almonds, proud of how you’re keeping her spirit alive.”
“You think so? Even with the scorched garden?”
“Yup,” said Angel matter-of-factly. “I think she’s probably quite happy that her garden is going through a process of rejuvenation.
I read somewhere that in South Africa they’ve got this vegetation called Fynbos, and it has to burn every ten years or so in order for it to maintain its health.
Maybe you’ve got some hidden Fynbos in your garden. ”
Suddenly, a gust of wind swooped in and pushed both Samantha and her board directly into Angel’s path. With an unexpected bump, Angel’s board jolted, her balance wobbled, and with a loud yelp, she toppled into the water.
“SAMANTHA!” Angel shouted as she emerged, coughing up water.
“SORRY!”