Hearts We Mend To Break (Book I)

.44.

💫ANGEL💫

Taking Giselle on our first real date had to be the best decision I'd made in a while. She asked so many questions, quizzing me on my past as curiosity urged for a sneak peak of our future. I wouldn't have traded one single second of that day in for anything in this world. Sitting across from me, glistening in the shadows of the sunset, her ocean eyes sent waves of electricity tingling through my limbs. And when she stood over that balcony, a creamy vanilla scent blowing into me as her hair blew in the wind, there was an aching desire to shower her with love. So, I did.

"Dance with me." I hummed into the thin air. I watched her as she eyed our surroundings, cheeks turning a beautiful peach color as she held back her smile.

"There's no music." Her voice was just above a whisper, teasing my appetite for her.

"We don't need music."

Swaying from left to right, I lead the way, gently clutching her waist as I stared down at her. The way my body lit up as she looked up with an amorous glance, studying every feature of my face. It felt like she was taking a mental photo of this moment. Of my expression. Could she have known all this time that I was madly in love with her? Was it written so clearly on my face that the thought of hiding behind wit or self-righteous commentary became pointless?

Spinning her around, eyeing every inch of her body, memorizing the way her perfect tits swayed, playing a game of peek-a-boo with my manhood. The way her skin glistened beneath the pink and citrus sunsetting sky. Finally, the band began, smoothing the atmosphere out with a serenading set. Giselle's grasp around my neck intensified. She winced, seemingly holding back a thought or feeling. Realizing a change in her mood, I leaned down to speak softly into her ear.

"You okay?"

"Yes."

I allowed my hands to fall just below her waistline, resting gently in that spot I loved so much. I felt her let out an uneven breath as we both swayed from left to right, slightly turning with each sway. Closing my eyes for a moment, I allowed myself to travel outside my comfort zone, welcoming emotions that I'd worked hard to bury. Emotions I'd fought for years to remain exiled from my life. But there I was, opening the gates to my village of sentiments, welcoming the purity of sweet honey. Sweet love. Organic delight.

"Angel?" Her charming tone tickled the hairs on the back of my neck.

Melting from the way she said my name, I slowly opened my eyes, quickly meeting her gaze. Unable to contain the smirk widening across my lips, I waited for her to speak.

"I love you." She whispered.

My heart stopped. A lump forming in my throat, even as I tried to speak, nothing made it past the tumor that blocked every sound, breath, and swallow. I was suffocating, slowly. Unbeknownst to the effect my sudden silence had on Giselle, I fought hard to get a word or breath or anything out. There was nothing. It wasn't because I didn't love her too. It wasn't that hearing her say those three words scared me. I hadn't heard and believed words like that in years. I hadn't felt and craved emotions like that in years. I hadn't felt and exuded the energies of those feelings in so long, that I had no idea how to respond. So, I choked.

Finally, the movement of our bodies came to a halt, the contact between our bodies seized, and the warmth of her love grew cold. I took a step back, noticing the fiery blaze of disappointment fuming from her. Unable to hold onto the stiffness of her stare, I continued to look away, embarrassed by my own reaction.

"I—" Giselle ran her fingers through her hair. "I have to use the restroom."

Just as quickly as she'd spoken, she was fading off into the restaurant, leaving me behind with my reflections of the last few minutes. How the fuck did I manage to ruin an entire date, chickening out of expressing my feelings when she'd put herself on a limb to express hers? I had to make it up to her. Determined to make it right, I paced the floor beneath me, each step causing enough friction to walk a hole in the ceramic tile.

"Can I get you anything?" Our waitress approached me. Looking up at her, I knew there was nothing good she had to offer; only more trouble came with taking her up on anything she proposed.

"Um..." I ran my fingers through my hair, raking it to the back, out of my face.

"Here." She pulled off a piece of receipt paper, motioned towards me, placing it into my pocket. "Call me if you ever need a real woman to show you a good time."

What the fuck?

"Angel?" Giselle was back, face clammy with embarrassment. I looked from the waitress to her, praying she didn't hear or see anything.

"Ready to go?" I choked up, brushing past the brunette homewrecker and heading towards Giselle. Once I reached where she was standing, she took a step back. "What? Why are you—"

"I'm ready." Her eyes found the ground quickly. I sensed an overwhelming amount of sadness. I wanted to make it right. Make it better. But I didn't know where to start.

"Okay. I'll get the—"

"Here's your check." The waitress butted in. I eyed her suspiciously, taking the booklet form her hands.

"So, if that's the check, what's in your pocket?" I was right. She did witness the one-sided exchange.

"Nothing." I lied, frowning at her as her expression cast all the blame in my direction. Before I could get out another word, she rushed me digging into my pocket, pulling out the receipt. The side she initially stared at was blank. I watched her exhale with relief. As I went to grab the paper from her, she turned it around, and that's when I wanted the father of death to come take me away.

"Nothing? This is nothing?" Grimacing with disgust, her eyes darted in the direction of the brunette. Then she was back to eyeballing me, holding her evidence proudly in the air.

"Giselle, come on. I wasn't going to fucking call her." I stepped towards her, only to watch her back away.

She laughed. Why was she laughing? Flipping her hair from her face, she laughed to herself in a "I can't believe this shit" kind of way. I watched her odd behavior and wondered where she was going with it?

"Check?" The waitress grinned.

"Fuck off!" I yelled at her, resenting ever allowing her to come near me.

The standoff with Giselle didn't last much longer. Soon, she was walking through the restaurant and out the front door, leaving me at the counter to pay for our meal and pray that she'd speak to me long enough for me to explain.

***Author's Words****

Was Angel in the wrong?

Will Giselle understand his side of the story?

Read on to find out....

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