𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 ✓

06 • The Next Morning

CHAPTER SIX: THE NEXT MORNING

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After the kiss, Steve had left Angel's apartment in a hurry, saying he had somewhere to be. Knowing very well that he couldn't have had an appointment at such a late hour, she was quite offended that he had taken off so soon. Especially after that kiss. The sensation had lingered in the air even hours until he had left. Angel had found herself with a dry throat and the utter wish that he would come back and kiss her again. And again. And again.

It was the next morning, Angel was still laying in bed, daydreaming about how incredible that one kiss already felt, secretly wondering what else he could do to her if he wanted to. She'd barely made it out of the cozy warmth of her blanket to make herself a cup of coffee that was now standing on her nightstand, releasing its steam into the air. Outside, it had snowed again, a fresh layer of white lay over the city, and the sun had just started to fully illuminate the streets. With tired limbs, Angel snuggled up in her blanket again, closing her eyes, putting off to get out of the cozy warmth of her bed for just a bit longer.

The windows were framed by pretty, delicate ice flowers the frost had formed overnight. The sky was bright and blue, and Angel caught herself comparing the color of Steve's eyes to what she saw. She drank her coffee, glanced over to the book she was currently reading — a cheesy, cliché romance story — and tilted her head while he contemplated about whether or not to read for just a bit before getting up. Knowing herself, she was aware that she wouldn't leave her comfortable bed until she would have finished the novel, she decided against it but promised herself to read after work.

For a few minutes, the utter silence was almost scaring her. The snow outside absorbed a lot of the noises that would've reached her ear through the closed windows, and so she listened to the steady ticking of the clock on her dresser until she was convicted it had driven her insane.

"Five more hours," she mumbled when she put down her mug and pushed the blanket off of her. Her bare legs were instantly covered in goosebumps. It was freezing cold. Angel usually turned off the radiator overnight to avoid the dry air it caused. Pulling down the hem of the oversized hoodie she was wearing, she shuffled to the window that allowed her to look down at the street.

Muddy, wet piles of frozen solid snow roamed the pavements, and the streets seemed to be insanely slippery. A few clouds hid the sun at the given moment. The Christmas decorations that hung over the street, held up by wires attached to the facades of the surrounding houses, looked damp and a few of the lights were flickering. If she thought about it, Angel didn't think that winter was the prettiest season, even if countless movies wanted to convince her of that.

In five hours, her shift at the café started, and she stretched her tired limbs, yawning until she felt like her jaw was about to unhinge, and eventually slipped in some thick, soft sweatpants, grey ones with the logo of her University on the thigh. She put on some fuzzy socks and got her coffee from the nightstand to empty it before she would go to the bathroom to get ready for the day.