You Are So Not a Fallen Angel

Chapter 14

This time, when I reached my room, there was a note pinned to my pillow. I grabbed it, anxious, fearful it might turn out to be nothing at all. But it was definitely something.

The message was short, just one word scrawled across a page in black ink. Tonight. Nothing else. No name, no X to mark it with a kiss. The paper looked like it had ripped from a cheap notebook, and contrasted strangely with the old fashioned script, all swoops and curlicues. I ran a finger over the paper, as if trying to touch the person who had written the note.

Stop being ridiculous, I told myself, as I opened my desk drawer and slid the note inside, next to the long feather. But I couldn’t get rid of the smile on my face. My first love note. And what a love note...

  On the flip side, it told me neither where we were going this evening, nor when he was coming to get me. Great. He had told me to “dress up”, but that could mean anything, couldn’t it. I was going to presume he would be calling late, after I had had dinner, and if he turned up and I wasn’t ready, well tough for him.

It didn’t stop me from combing through my wardrobe for a suitable outfit. I was hampered by not knowing what the occasion was, but I had been told to dress up, so I pushed aside sundresses, shorts, jeans and skimpy tank tops. I pulled out all the ‘formal’ clothes my mother had bought me over the years for various occasions and studied them. I eliminated a pink dress with lace collar as too childish, a grey one with long sleeves as too nun-like, a long black skirt as too boring and a long green dress as too formal. Finally, after having been through every item in the cupboard twice, I hit gold. A midnight blue dress, simple in its design, with a skirt that skimmed my knees and a line of buttons down the front. It was elegant, refined, and, in my opinion at least, very grown-up. It didn’t exactly make me look like someone who went to cocktail parties and could hold a conversation about Italian art, but at least I didn’t look like a silly schoolgirl anymore.

I ate dinner quickly then hurried back to my room, pleading tiredness. I slipped on the selected dress, shoved my feet into some ridiculously high shoes and hastily slapped on some makeup. I was just putting the last touches to my hair when there was a knock on the window.

“Do you ever do anything like normal people?” I demanded as I opened the window and he scrambled through.

“Nope,” he said, brushing down his trousers. “Normal is boring. You look lovely by the way.”

“Am I dressed up enough?” I did a twirl, giving the full benefit of my toilette.

“You’re perfect,” he said.

“Thank you.” I gave him a peck on the cheek. “And may I add that you look dashingly handsome?”

“Of course you can.”

The conversation lapsed for a couple of minutes while Lorris and I were otherwise occupied.

“You could’ve have told me where we’re going,” I commented as I reapplied my lip-gloss. “It would’ve made getting ready much easier.”

“But it would ruin the surprise. Are you ready?”

“Almost.” I smoothed down my hair and glanced one last time in the mirror. “Where are we going?”

“Wait and see.” He moved over and took my hands.

“Is it always going to be this way?” There was a short silence, during which I stared at the toes of my shoes, my cheeks burning.

“Probably.” Lorris’ answer was casual, as if he hadn’t notice anything was amiss, but I couldn’t look at him. “Let’s get going.” He pulled me up close, silencing any further remarks. I wrapped my arms about him, pressing my face into his chest. Maybe I was making too much of this, but I couldn’t help feeling there was a huge question mark over the future where Lorris and I were concerned. Much as I liked the passion of our relationship, and told myself to enjoy while it lasted, I couldn’t stop myself from looking ahead. To be honest, I didn’t see us lasting in the long term.