𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥'𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 ✓ [𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐎]

chapter sixteen ✕ nonchalant encounters

𝐬𝐨𝐡𝐨, 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐤
𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐦
❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀
[unedited]

  "So, we're just going to brush past the bruises." I say, pointing at a spot on Armando's arm that's starting to turn a reddish purple color.

  "There were other kids at the park I took Santos to." He huffs, rolling his sleeve down to cover his bruises. "They apparently equate a tall man dressed head to toe in Tom Ford with a jungle gym. They flanked me, I couldn't escape." He shudders.

I struggle to suppress my laughter as we drive through the streets, coming close SoHo once again.

   Eventually, we make it to the street where Andrea works, a small on decorated with cobblestone walkways and ivy wrapped lampposts.

  Angelo parks the car, pulling out Andrea's file again and turning to Armando and I. "Alright," he starts. "Do you remember you cover story?" He asks.

"Yup." I reply and Armando nods in turn.

"Good. It looks like she's off on Fridays, so set something up for that day alright."

We both nod and Armando is eager to get out and go.

"Let's do this then." I say to myself, stepping out of the car and following behind Armando.

  "How's my imitation?" Armando says in an perfect American accent as we walk.

"Disturbingly realistic." I reply. "I doesn't fit you since I know what you sound like usually, by someone who's never met you would know a thing."

He smiles, visibly proud of himself. "Perfect."

  Finally we make it into the flower shop. Greenery and flora cover the whole store, the sun streaming into the room and setting everything aglow. It's devoid of any other people, but it's still early in the morning, so that's to be expected.

Armando steps to the counter and knocks on it.

   "Anyone here?" He asks.

"Be right there." A voice calls from the back of the store.

We wait for a tense moment as the sound of clicking shoes draws closer.

Finally, out comes Andrea. She looks so much the same and yet so different. Her hair is shorter, cut just below her shoulders. Her deep brown eyes are just as big and doe-like as they always where. She looks comfortably disheveled in an apron, a stray leaf clinging into her shirt.

I can hear Armando take a sharp breath next to me.

"Hello, how can I-" She pauses as she looks up at me. Slight confusion and then recognition cross her face.