For Angelo(11)

The answers eluded her, and so did any sense of self-righteous anger. Even as her heart continued to ache and each day that passed became a darker shade of gray, she was unable to stop waiting.

Wait, a small voice inside of her insisted, forbidding her to cry at night, forbidding her to lose hope.

Wait.

It was a promise, an entreaty…and a command.

Wait.

And so she waited.

She waited and waited, and before Lane knew it, the semester had ended, and it was time to go home. She stood next to Josh at the bus stop, listening absently to her friend’s mix of diatribe and advice.

You’ll forget him soon enough when you’re back with your family.

You don’t deserve someone like him. He’s too good for you.

On and on it went, but even though she knew everything that her friend had said made perfect sense, a part of her refused to believe a word of it.

Wait, that part of her insisted.

Even as her heart had crumbled into its last few pieces, that part of her refused to relinquish its hold on its unspoken dreams.

Wait.

Beside her, Josh was asking in an oddly petulant voice, “Is he really that special?”

She watched him kick a pebble out of his way, his frustration evident. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again a moment later. How could she explain something she didn’t even understand herself?

“Never mind.” Josh’s tone had turned harsh. “Your silence says enough.”

“Josh, I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, only knew that she felt obliged to. “I appreciate you looking after me, really, but—”

“He’s not coming back, Lane!”

Josh’s sudden yell startled her, and she stammered, “Josh, calm down—”

“You need to see the truth for yourself!” Josh was still yelling, and he was gripping her shoulders now and shaking so hard her eyeglasses were in danger of slipping off her nose. “He’s never coming back—”

“Josh, please—” She managed to push her glasses up and tried to wriggle out of his hold.

“Never coming back—”

And out of nowhere, someone interrupted almost languidly, “Ah, but I have.”





****





Panic had not figured in Angelo’s life for so long a time, and it was mostly because there was nothing – and no one – he cared enough to want to keep. Until her.

He didn’t pause to even think of how uncool he was being or worry about what other people would think. Even when he was playing the villain, there had still been rules that he abided by. Be in control, be polite, and most of all, be emotionally detached. These were what made him seem unattainable to women, what made them want him more. But these were also what kept him safe.

Until her.

With his strong, powerful hands, he clasped her waist and even as she gasped, he whirled her around to face him.

Their eyes clashed, hers filled with shock and his blazing with emotions.

If he didn’t feel so perilously close to killing the boy behind her, he would have teased her for staring so unashamedly at him.

Are you really here, those caramel brown eyes asked Angelo, and he heard himself say, “Yes.” When she looked at him, clearly bemused, he realized she was too innocent to know just what her eyes were telling him, and a crooked smile formed on his lips. Pure and seductive all rolled into one, Angelo thought wryly even while he strove to catch his breath and rein his erection back at the same time. He only had to look at her and his body lost all control over his cock. She was definitely going to have him wrapped around her finger in no time.

Lane’s heart was knocking hard against her chest. Oh gosh, gosh, oh gosh. They were the only thoughts she was capable of, and she knew, if Nellie could hear her now, she would be teased for being the ‘gauche gosh girl.’

But she couldn’t help it.

His ridiculously chiseled looks turned her mind into mush, and with him so close, she couldn’t help thinking he seemed so much taller, so much more gorgeous and powerful than she remembered.

But then she noticed something else—

Something was off about him, she realized.

The slightly tousled look of his hair, the almost feral look in his eyes, and was she just imagining things or was Angelo Valencia breathing a little too hard, like he was panting?

Unable to think of anything that could make Angelo Valencia lose his legendary cool, her awe was replaced by concern and Lane blurted out, “Are you okay? You’re not breathing right.”

Angelo deliberately didn’t answer. Not in this lifetime would he ever let her know he had been so uncool as to run after her like he was shooting for the big climax of a Woody Allen movie.

“Ange—Professor Valencia?”

His lips compressed, but he managed to keep his voice level as he murmured, “The seminar’s over. You should call me Angelo.”

Before Lane could answer, she and Angelo heard Josh make an incoherent sound of protest.

Angelo’s gaze swung to Josh, and the look he shot her friend was so vicious she heard Josh whimper like a kid.

He slowly turned to face her again, and not wanting him to give her the same look, she said quickly, “Angelo.”

His lips twitched. “You have nothing to worry about.”