Black Angel

Jade Cherub...

"CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!"

I watch him down the drink. He slammed the bottle onto the table, the crowd around him cheering. He smiled at me, but I just shook my head disapprovingly.

"Alright guys, I got to go," he smiled. There was a collective sound of disappointed groans. Leave it to him to become the life of the party. He rose from his stool and made his way through the crowd. I stepped away from my spot at the door, retreating back out into the warm, late spring night. I lean up against the side of my car, crossing my arms. The blonde eventually came out, almost trippinng over his slightly sloppy foot work.

"Awe, you waited up for me?"

"Well someone had to make sure that you got home safely," I frown, "I mean seriously, I leave you one night and you decide to go get drunk at a bar."

He trudges toward me, placing a hand at the side of my face.

"I'm not drunk," he smiles. That fucking charming smile.

"You couldn't even walk straight out of the bar," I counter.

He leaned in a little closer. "But, I'm not."

I could smell the apple cider on his breath, and somehow, he managed to make it an appealing smell. It was intoxicating, just like those endless blue eyes.

"What's one times two?"

"Two."

"Two times two?"

"Four."

"Four times six?"

"Twenty-four."

"Twenty-four times three?"

"Seventy-two."

I studied him for a moment, those soft lips of his a little too close. I wanted to pull him closer, feel those callused hands move all over me. This is the perfect moment to let my desire out, to show him that I cared as much about him as he did for me. But I was never really good at responding to social cues, so instead, I moved away from the side of the car.

"Let's get you home shit head," I say, opening up the drivers door. He followed suit, sitting in passengers seat. "You are gonna take a shower, eat something, and go to bed."

"Okay mom," he teased, but years of being by his side helped to see the disappointment in it.

Even when we pulled up to the house, I could see it in the way he walked, all slow and quiet. He heads for the stairs, and I call out to him.

"Bishop." He turns around, a hint of hope and want swimming in those blue pools. I could feel the words on the tip of my tongue, the confessions and apologies building up at the back of my throat.

"Don't waste all of the hot water," I mutter. But that was enough for him to smile.

"Only for you Rhan," he winks at me. Sometimes I wonder if he knows what I mean, even if the words don't exactly leave my mouth the way I want them to.

"Whatever," I grumble. But they lose their harshness when I smiled back.