For The Love Of An Angel

DAMIAN

The traffic through the city was heavy tonight. A sea of red brake lights lay in front of me and I leaned back in the driver’s seat, pressing my hands against the steering wheel.

Glancing over at the passenger seat and the lonely bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape I’d promised Christian I’d bring over with me, I sighed. I’d already sent Chrisian a message to let him know I was on my way, so I couldn’t just turn around and go home, like I really wanted to do. I wouldn’t break my promise to Christian, no matter how much I hadn’t wanted to leave the house. 

When I’d first called Christian, I had been eager to see him, to hear him, to taste him, but now … now I just couldn’t get Angel and the delivery guy out of my head. How close they’d been … and now Angel was on a date with him.

A fucking date.

The guy had been off the streets only a matter of days and already he was dating other guys. Sarah had convinced me to let Angel have the night off, to go and enjoy himself. Said he needed to have as normal a life as he could, experience life the way someone of his age should.

How old was he anyway? He couldn’t be any more than twenty one or twenty two at most. Which meant he was a good fifteen years younger than me. A child in comparison to my age.

The delivery guy looked closer to Angel’s age than I was. And Angel seemed to like the guy, from what I’d seen. The look that they’d shared in the kitchen …

Sighing, I ran a hand down my face and stared at the car in front of me, willing it to move.

When Angel had found me in my office earlier to tell me he was going out, I hadn’t looked up at him. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see what he looked like when he met the delivery guy at the bar. He had mentioned the name of the bar, and the time he was meeting the guy. Apparently, Sarah had told him that he should do so. She’d also given him the code for the front gate, so he could get back into the house once his date was over.

A knot formed in the pit of my stomach as an image of Angel flitted across my mind from earlier today, this morning in fact, when he’d thanked me for taking him in. For giving him a chance. He’d sounded so … grateful. His voice had been soft and his bright blue eyes …

Closing my eyes, I shook my head and gripped the steering wheel while my heart ricocheted off of my ribs as his handsome face moved through my head. Was I being too hard on him? Treating him unfairly? He’d probably seen the worst of humanity, had even experienced some of it if his nightmare the other night was anything to go by. Yet he hadn’t tried to steal from me, or take advantage of the large house in which he’d lived. My gut told me that he wouldn’t take the piss when he got his first paycheck.

But I’d snapped at him over the timing of my coffee and had tried to embarrass him in front of the delivery guy. And all he’d done was thank me for giving him a job, a home, the chance of a life.

I turned to look at the bottle of wine sitting in the passenger seat, and thought of the man that I’d bought the bottle for. Christian was gorgeous. He had the world at his feet, could have anything he wanted. He was the type of guy who would have anyone and anything at the snap of his long fingers. But he’d always sought me out, called me, came to see me. For the last couple of years, I’d been pretty sure he’d been hinting at wanting something more with me other than casual dating.

Did I want the same?

Up until a few nights ago, there would be no question of what my answer would be. Now … I wasn’t so sure. Another image of Angel crossed my mind and I clenched my jaw while butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

I shifted my attention to the path on the other side of the side window. People were milling past, huddled in coats in a feeble attempt to block out the cold wind that blew between the tall buildings either side of the street. I turned the heater up in my car, feeling the warm air swirl around my ankles.