Chapter 24 Angie
ANGIE
My sandpaper-like eyes struggle to peel open as the morning sunlight shines through the cracks in the blackout curtains.
I take in the unfamiliar new room and note the sleeping presence wrapped around me like ivy.
After we brought in my bags, we ordered a pizza, and laid in bed for the rest of the night.
I predicted that yesterday’s events would be draining, so I prepared by letting Hannah know that I would be out for a few days.
I’ve never lived with anyone other than my family, but it surprised me how easy it was to fall into bed and just sleep with Brandon.
It helps that I’m completely hooked and in this with him for the long haul.
My heart broke for both of us last night.
And as we fell asleep, I felt the pillow behind me grow wet from his silent tears.
I snuggle further into his arms and attempt to go back to sleep, but a kiss on the back of my head signals Brandon’s awake.
“Hi,” his husky morning voice greets.
“Morning,” I greet and place a kiss on his hand.
Brandon places another kiss on the back of my head and slides out of bed, heading toward the bathroom and taking care of business.
We switch places when he shuffles back in, and when I’m in here, I look at my things already at home in his bathroom and smile around my toothbrush.
Although my stuff is hastily placed on the vanity, for now, they have a temporary home.
As much as the thought of living with someone else terrifies me, I couldn’t possibly see myself living with anyone other than him.
I open the door and turn off the bathroom light.
My steps falter at the sight of him propped up on two fluffy pillows, shirtless.
The thick white down comforter pools around him, making him look even more devastatingly handsome.
I crawl onto the bed and fit myself into his side like a lock effortlessly clicking into place.
“I told Hannah I was taking the next couple days off,” I tell Brandon.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I sit up and look at him. With his sleep-mussed hair, he looks younger than his thirty-one years—he looks like the boy I knew when we were younger.
“Don’t do that. We both knew that us being together would come with some…
complications. I knew we’d get backlash, but I think we underestimated their reactions. ”
“Yeah.”
“At least we have your brothers.”
“Shit,” he swears under his breath and snags his phone off his nightstand. His eyes widen when he looks at the screen and I move back next to him to see what’s caused the reaction.
Malcolm: Mom and Dad blew up on us.
Evan: If Ford wasn’t in high school, I would’ve brought him to my place.
Ford: I can deal with them for a little bit.
Malcolm: You shouldn’t have to.
Brandon: Hey, Ford, I have plenty of room and I’m sure Angie won’t mind.
He looks at me like a deer caught in the headlights. “I should’ve asked you to make sure.”
“B, it’s your place. I’m just crashing here until I can find my own.”
His forehead scrunches and he tosses his phone on the floor. My amusement fades when he pushes me back on the bed and crawls over me, settling between my legs as he does. “My home is yours for as long as you want. Preferably forever, because as I said yesterday, I’m a great roommate.”
“I do remember you saying that. Even though I work those less-than-typical hours, you still want us to live together?” I ask, laying back down and running my hands over his forearms.
“Yes.”
I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth. “Do I at least snore? Because that’s my dealbreaker.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Nope.”
I angle my head and narrow my eyes at him. “Are you lying?”
“Not at all.”
My hands run him his arms and over his shoulders, then hook around his neck.
“What are you thinking?” Brandon whispers.
“That I’m scared and sad and angry. But mostly I’m just sad. Or maybe it’s my anger disguised as sadness,” I admit and my fingers play with the strands of hair at the base of his neck. I chew on my bottom lip before asking my question. “Can we play the what-if game really fast?”
He nods and adjusts his position until he’s laying on the side next to me. Brandon props his head on his fist and plays with locks of my hair, twisting them around his finger.
“If James and Liam were alive, I’d like to think that you and I would have found our way to each other.”
“Yeah?” he asks surprisingly.
I move my attention from the high ceiling to him and nod. “Yeah. You still would have come into Blue Pint Outpost, at least I hope you would have. And instead of me walking on eggshells and you looking like you wanted to bite my head off, we would’ve finally talked.”
“What would we have talked about?”
“Well, first I’d ask why you were there because you didn’t seem like a TapHouse type of guy. And then I’d say it was great to finally talk with you.”
Brandon fits his hands under my arms and pulls me up to sit astride him. “Oh, really? And what type of guy did I peg you for?”
“Someone who played by the rules. Stuck to their routine. Things like that,” I note and my breath catches when he begins to trace circles on my exposed thighs.
“You pegged me that quickly?” he asks.
“Mmm hmm.”
“Maybe you should’ve gone the psych route,” he teases. “For the record, I did stick to my routine. Early morning workouts, head to work, and come home. Wash, rinse, and repeat Monday through Friday.”
“So you’re saying I added some life back into you? Shook you out of your routine?” I ask softly.
“Yeah, Angel. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I don’t have a chance to respond before he’s sitting up and locking our lips together.
My breath skips at the connection, and I relax my body, leaning into him, feeling him.
Brandon anchors my body to him as the kiss deepens, our tongues tangle, and we become one.
My hands run up and down his naked chest as his hands slide under my pajama top, gripping onto me like I’m his lifeline.
No words are spoken as my shirt is ripped off my body, and I’m laid back on his bed.
Brandon kisses down my body, paying close attention to my nipples.
His teeth encircle the pointed tips before he uses his tongue to soothe the sting.
He does the act to both over and over until I’m a squirming and moaning mess under him.
My body quivers as he kisses down to the waistband of my sleep shorts.
“If you want me to stop, I can.”
I let out a shaky breath. “No. Don’t stop.”
He places a kiss over my shorts before sliding them down my legs and tossing them over his shoulder.
Brandon spreads my legs and settles between my thighs.
At the first swipe of his tongue through my slit, a cry falls from my mouth.
His arms wrap around my thighs to lock me in place as he devours me, moaning his praise.
My hand tangles in his hair with a vice grip, while the other squeezes the life out of the sheets.
Brandon shows my pussy no mercy as he dives in, lapping at my opening and rubbing circles around my clit with his thumb.
Without warning, my orgasm slams into me, and Brandon covers me with his mouth, making sure to drink up every drop.
I give his hair a tug, my sensitivity making me twitch, but he doesn’t let up.
“Fuck,” I whimper with tears leaking out of the corner of my eyes, as I feel another orgasm rolling through my body. I look down and see him in child's pose with eyes closed in bliss as he moans and works me through my second climax.
Air hits my exposed center as Brandon finally comes up and kisses my inner thighs and up my body. With all my might, I manage to hook my feet in the waistband of his pajama pants and push them down his legs. His hand comes between us as he fists his dick and slides into me in one thrust.
“God, you feel good. You feel like mine,” he claims as he pulls out and slides back in.
My arms lightly wrap around his neck with my hands in his hair. I pull his face to mine, licking up my release that’s on his chin before pulling his mouth to mine, groaning as I taste myself on his tongue. “Definitely yours,” I confirm.
Brandon hooks his arms under my leg, opening me up as he slides further inside me.
Each thrust takes my breath away, sending me further and further to my next orgasm.
In a breath, he pulls out and flips me over until I’m on all fours and slides back in.
I spread my legs further apart and arch my back, crying out as he hits a spot deeper than ever.
“Your ass looks fantastic from here,” he groans and runs his hands over each cheek.
I moan as he spreads me wide and angles my hips, grinding against my clit with each thrust. I turn my head and look at him as I snake my hand between my body and the bed, rubbing my clit as I feel another orgasm coming that’s threatening to steal my breath.
Brandon adjusts his body and props his leg up.
With the new angle and force of his thrusts, my orgasm slams into me, and the rubbing of my clit gets messy as I cry out his name.
My hand moves, and he snakes his hand between my body and the bed, taking over the rubbing of my clit as he chases his release, coming with a groan.
His thrusts get lazy as he works himself through his orgasm before he pulls out and collapses on the bed next to me.
“It can’t always be like that, can it?” I ask breathlessly and turn to look at him. The morning sun is fully shining through the curtain, making the light sheen of sweat on his firm torso easy to see.
“Definitely not,” he says and turns his head to look at me. “We’re gonna be okay, Angel.”
For the first time in my life, I trust someone—I trust him. And I believe him, which is the scariest part. It may have taken me a while to get to that point, but Brandon and I, being basically exiled by our families, have proven that we will always be on the same side.
I spent the last hour unpacking my things in the dresser that Brandon was adamant on us sharing.
When I protested because he also needed the space, he promptly opened the drawers on one side and dumped the minimal contents in his closet, kissed me, and strolled out of the room like that little action meant nothing to him.
But to me, it meant everything, and I mulled over it until my own clothes began to fall out of my hands.
Along with unpacking my things, I moved some things around in the closet and found some empty spots he wasn’t utilizing, and put his discarded clothes away.
The smell of coffee brewing hits me right before I walk out of Brandon’s room—well, now my room as well—and when I get to the source of the scent, I lean against the doorjamb and watch him work his magic in the kitchen.
“Did you get your fill?” he asks without turning around.
I smile and push off the doorjamb. “Never.”
He slides my coffee over to me, and I gratefully take it with a soft smile as I lean my hip against the counter and watch him.
When I did my first ever full run-through of a song on the piano without tripping over the ivory and black keys, I felt like all of the countless hours, working my fingers to impossible lengths to hit the notes, and enduring the numbness on the bench was worth it.
I was so overwhelmed that I felt like I could simultaneously cry and run a marathon.
That’s how I feel as I watch Brandon fix our breakfast. Although the tears would be tears of joy.
But like the new fracture we’ve caused in our families is worth it to be together.
“What are your plans for New Year's Eve?”
I take a sip of my perfectly done coffee and sigh with bliss. “Well, I work the opening shift, which means we’re mainly prepping for the night crowd.”
“Does it get busy there?” Brandon asks, moving our plated food to the center island.
I kiss him on the cheek before taking a forkful of the cheesy scrambled eggs and humming with delight and smiling at the joy on Brandon’s face.
“You’ll have to come during playoffs. That’s a whole different type of busy.
New Year's Eve is more classy-busy, if a TapHouse can even be considered classy.”
“Lots of fancy dates?”
“Eh, more like guys trying to get lucky that night by ordering the most expensive meals we have reserved for holidays.”
Brandon laughs at the image and finishes up his breakfast bowl. “Have you seen any proposals?”
“Ugh, too many. Valentine’s Day is the worst when it comes to that. But we did have an impromptu wedding when the couple's venue flooded.”
“You wouldn’t want to be proposed to on that day?” he asks tentatively.
My heart skips at the mere talk of a proposal. “No. I’m more of a sentimental and private person. Sure, big proposals are great—when the other person knows that the answer is a yes. Holidays should be for holidays. Can you imagine someone proposing on a holiday and getting rejected?”
“Fair point,” he says and collects our plates to load into the dishwasher.
The thought of getting married seemed like some unattainable fruit.
And after seeing the ups and downs of Liam and Kamryn’s relationship secondhand, I always thought love was meant to be messy and toxic.
But being with Brandon, I’ve been fortunate to experience the opposite.
I smile more with him than I have in the past two years.
The weight of my depression doesn’t cripple me as much as it did a year ago.
Of course, I have days when my mood is fully gray and it’s because of my depression that I never thought I’d find someone who accepted that with me.
But Brandon does.