THE GIRLFRIEND II

THE GIRLFRIEND II


Angel's Pov

His face widens into the biggest grin ever, that reminds me of clouds parting to let the sun out after a storm.

He hugs me again.

This isn’t a casual squeeze, and it's somehow also different from how he held me just moments ago. It’s enveloping, and he all but melts into me. His arms are firm but gentle, cradling me flush against him until some of my doubts loosen their grip on my mind. I feel something ease in him, too. It's like a wall gave way, like some invisible layer between us is gone.

When he pulls back, he looks down at me with those brilliant green eyes; eyes that seem to catch the light and sparkle.

“Thank you,” he says, voice soft. I'm smiling, I can feel it. If I were an ice cube, I’d be a literal puddle on the floor by now.

Before I can breathe, he leans in and kisses me. Just a small press of lips, a fleeting flutter of contact, and it makes me blink up at him in surprise as my cheeks burn instantly.

“I hope that’s okay,” he murmurs.

I nod, glancing at his mouth without meaning to.

It’s strange how something can be right in front of you for months, and you never really see it until a single moment shifts the focus. Hank has always had these lips, he didn't put on a new pair to come see me today.

But now I notice them. Notice their soft curve, the pale pink shade. They are different from Andrew’s, his lips are fuller in the center, tapering to a sharper point. Hank’s are more even, almost pouty, like they’ve been made for plush kisses.

And now I know they are warm. Soft.

“Let’s go inside,” he says. “I've kept you standing for long enough.”

We walk in and sink onto the couch. There’s a faint awkwardness at first, like we are each figuring out how to exist in this new shift between us.

We sit too far apart because, out of habit, I left some space between us. I don't think I should do that now. It used to be polite but it feels stilted. I want to close it, to bridge the distance.

“Do you want to come up to my room?” I ask.

Hank blinks, surprised, but then smiles. “Yes.”

I lead the way, deciding that I'll let him sit first so I can deliberately sit right beside him.

When we get to my room, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed. I follow, close enough that our legs touch. Every time I move, my shoulder brushes against his. Perfect.

Hank glances at me and smiles before taking a deep breath. “Sorry I'm a little stiff. I’m just getting used to the fact that you’re my girlfriend now,” he says, the goofiest grin on his face. “Just give me a moment and I'll get the urge to scream it at the top of my lungs under control.”

I giggle, eyes inadvertently dropping to his lips. They're quite pretty. And he's so cute. “Take all the time you need.”

He grins, leaning closer. “So what are you doing tomorrow night, girlfriend?”

“Nothing,” I whisper. He's so close now I know he heard me clearly.

“Then we should go for that dinner I was talking about,” he murmurs, rubbing his nose against mine.

He moves away to sit straight and I immediately want him back. I like the nose rubs. “Okay.”

“I wonder if I can find somewhere that carries doves,” he says suddenly. “I want doves.”

I laugh softly. “Doves?”

“I really like doves, yes,” he says, already pulling out his phone. “Let me play this song for you. I found it a few days ago and it totally sums up how I feel about doves.”

A soft melody starts playing from his phone and my lips gently fall open. I didn't know doves were an erogenous subject, but watching him talk about them makes me want to kiss him.

He turns toward me, as the tempo of the instruments climb. His gaze catches on my parted lips. He looks up at my eyes and down again and then he tosses his phone by his side.

He leans in slowly, but not hesitantly and I swallow as the space between us dissolves.

His lips meet mine, warm and steady, and I kiss him back instantly. His arms come around me, drawing me closer to him until he lifts me onto his lap, legs between his. I gasp at that, and the sound vanishes into his mouth as he kisses me deeper.

We keep kissing, unhurried but unbroken, until it feels like we’ve been there for half an hour. And I think it's because the door is open and we could get caught but I think I’m hearing footsteps.

When we finally break apart, he grins down at me. We are still close enough that our noses touch. That's so cute. I brush mine against his.

“Don’t be mad at me, Angel,” he says, voice low, “but I wanna ask something.”

“Okay,” I breathe.

“Don’t you want to move out of this house eventually? I mean… I know what you said at the hospital—”

“I actually already have an apartment.”

His eyes light up. “Oh, that’s great! Well then, forget I said anything. My new question is; what’s the address?”

I hesitate. My first instinct is to dodge, to keep unsavory bits of my life tucked away. But people tell their boyfriends these things, don’t they? And I think Hank will understand me.

“I don’t… know if I’ll be going back there soon,” I admit.

His brows knit. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to be alone after. . . what happened.”

“I understand,” he says after a pause, his hand finding my thigh. “But what if I come over every day after work?”

“I’d still be alone while you’re at work,” I point out.

He sighs, the sound warm against my cheek. “Then how about I drop you back here after? I just…” He glances around the room, then back at me. “I want the time we spend together to not be here. I want it to be ours.”

I nod slowly. I understand. He probably isn’t as comfortable in Andrew’s house as I am. This is my safe space, but it's not his.

Besides, Andrew got me that apartment for a reason, shooing me out of this very room. I should leave. I need to give him the space he wants.

And. . . learning to give Andrew space might also mean giving Hank a place that feels like his, too.

We stay like that for a while, the conversation softening into quiet. His hand stays resting on my thigh, his thumb tr
acing absentminded circles under my shorts.

The air between us has shifted completely. And it feels nice.