𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙲𝙸𝚃 𝙰𝙵𝙵𝙰𝙸𝚁𝚂 - 𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚈'𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙾𝙼𝚈

𝟷𝟸

S1 E9

It was an oddly peaceful night by New York standards.

Angie wasn't sure what it was; the rain, the steady traffic, the music she had playing softly in the background. Maybe it was everything mixed together. Whatever it was, it all settled over Angie in a peaceful white noise, allowing her to lose herself in packing and cleaning up her townhouse.

She was making decent progress, surrounded by packed boxes and half-open suitcases in her living room. Her braids were lazily piled and resting in a loose ponytail that swept across her back every time she turned her head.

A firm knock on the front door broke her focus, and Angie looked up with a frown. Who would be at her door at this hour in this sort of storm? Everyone knew she was engrossed in packing, so it wasn't like she'd made any significant plans to go out.

Angie pushed herself to her feet, readjusting the large sweatshirt on her figure as she crossed the room and made her way to the foyer. The rain had obscured her view of the window, but she could make out the blurry image of a man, and he practically took up the entire space.

Angie's confusion deepened and she pulled open the front door carefully.

Her breath went stagnant in her chest when she was met with Mark Sloan staring down at her, blue eyes blazing as he stood in her doorway, soaked through from the rain.

"Hi, Angel," he greeted simply, and his rough voice sent a shiver down Angie's spine.

"I..." Angie swallowed, suddenly overcome with nerves at the mere sight of him. "What are you doing here?" she asked softly.

Mark said nothing, his gaze lingering on her for what felt like an eternity. He shamelessly let his eyes roam over Angie's figure, his signature smirk creeping in when he took notice of her (his) oversized Columbia University sweatshirt and barely-there sleep shorts. Angie's face burned and she fought the urge to squeeze her thighs together as Mark practically devoured her with his eyes.

Finally, when he was done using her for his viewing pleasure, he met her eyes again. "We need to talk," he murmured. He took a step forward into the townhouse, crowding Angie's space easily. Her heart jumped, and she found herself rooted to her spot in the foyer, staring up at him dumbly as their chests were a breath away from touching.

Words became a jumbled lump in Angie's throat, and she couldn't figure out how to untangle any of it. All she could manage was a weak croak that only made Mark's smirk worse. He took another step, and then his hand was coming up to squeeze Angie's hip as he leaned down until his lips were brushing the shell of her ear.

The scent of his Tom Ford cologne mingled with the smell of petrichor in the air and the polished leather of his jacket, all of it surrounding Angie and hypnotizing her. Angie's lips parted in a humiliating breathy gasp, and her knees nearly buckled at the small contact.

"You gonna let me in?" Mark asked, his voice low and teasing. "Or just make me sit out here and freeze?"

Angie stumbled over her words again, her brain short-circuiting. She didn't even know she was making the choice to let him in until her legs were moving, making her step to the side and allowing Mark to slip into the townhouse and out of the downpour. He shrugged off his soaked jacket, setting it on one of the coat hooks and leaving him in a drenched t-shirt that clung to his skin, allowing Angie to watch the muscles in his arms and back flex with every movement.

While his back was turned, Angie shut the door and briefly pressed her head to the cold glass, squeezing her eyes shut. 'Get it together', she snapped at herself. 'He is just a man. You are a grown woman and you can handle a stupid man. He has no effect on you whatsoever.'