#120: Fallen: Fire and Redemption - Charlie's Angels and Popcorn

#120: Fallen: Fire and Redemption - Charlie's Angels and Popcorn
Julian Kauer

Violet had surprised me from the very start of that trip.
It was unbelievable how just getting out of the city had brought color back to her — a color I hadn't seen in a long time.

I guess staying at home, stuck in a loop of memories and bad situations, had been suffocating her in ways I couldn’t fully understand.

I didn’t know everything Violet had gone through.
Whatever she and Ethan shared, I couldn't really speak on it. By then, I was already distant from her father, tangled up in the web Lilian had managed to keep me in for so many years.

I hadn’t been around for Violet’s teenage years — I’d only seen her as a child, and even then, I wasn’t exactly the type to be into kids.
While Luigi had been a devoted young dad, even in his early twenties, I was more of a nomad, floating from place to place, never tying myself down to anyone or anything.

Even if she had told me everything, I probably still wouldn’t have fully understood.
Because before her, I had never had anything like this.
I was still learning what a healthy relationship even looked like — if you could call ours that.

For me, it was.
We hadn’t tried to kill each other yet, so I figured we were doing pretty good.

We drank way too much that first night.
Wines and craft beers with exotic flavors grabbed our attention a little too fast.
But like two seasoned drunks — even though she was way too young to have that kind of experience — we recovered quickly after a strong coffee and a good dessert.

We walked back to our cabin at the hotel, laughing and kicking pebbles along the path like two carefree kids.
It felt good, that careless, frivolous lifestyle.
Too bad we weren’t trust-fund kids, and we loved cooking way too much to stay away from a professional kitchen.

I opened the cabin door, hearing the wood creak — a sound like the place itself was welcoming us home.

She kicked off her boots, placing them neatly by the entrance, and I followed, sliding across the bare parts of the floor in my brand-new socks.

I stayed back for a second, just watching her, trying to be subtle even though I was still a little tipsy — and stupidly, hopelessly in love.

She peeled off her jacket, revealing a tight black top with a deep V-neckline and an amethyst pendant resting against her pale skin.

When she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and caught me staring, she blushed and smiled shyly.

"What's wrong? Is there something on me?" she asked, as if I needed a reason to admire her.

"You look smoking hot in that outfit. Like a badass spy from Charlie's Angels," I teased.

She laughed way too hard at the joke, and that’s when I realized we were on the exact same level of drunk — not sober enough to drive, but sober enough not to burn the place down.
At least I hoped.

I grabbed the remote from the nightstand and headed for the bed, getting a simple idea that felt right for the moment.
Violet followed, standing at the foot of the bed, her eyes glued to the TV.

"Seriously? Charlie's Angels?" she asked when she saw me clicking through the streaming app.

"Well, it wasn’t my first pick. But if you want to..." I teased again, my voice playful.

She laughed even more.
I could never get tired of hearing that sound.

But my eyes kept betraying me, sliding down the curves of her body without my permission.

I wasn’t trying to rush anything.
I wasn’t desperate to make it happen between us — it was obvious it would happen eventually, and I understood why it hadn’t yet.
But it was getting harder and harder to pretend I didn’t want her every second.

Tonight, though, something had changed.
I could see it in the way she was looking at me, too — different, hungrier.
And it lit a spark of hope inside me, not just for the sex (although, yeah, I wanted that too), but for something deeper.

It felt like this would be a turning point.
A step forward.
Maybe something like... sealing whatever it was between us.

At least, that’s what my drunken, love-sick brain decided.

I needed Violet more than she could ever guess just by reading the lust in my eyes or hearing the dumb shit I sometimes said.
It was a deep, burning need that could move me or completely paralyze me, depending on the day.

Noticing I was practically devouring her with my gaze, she decided to make it even worse.

She walked up to me, a devilish glint in her eyes, and traced her finger down my beard until she hooked it around my lower lip.

"Since you’re so set on watching your movie," she said with a smirk, "I'm going to make some popcorn. Just like our lazy Sundays."
She gave my chin a playful squeeze before pulling away.

I grinned, shaking my head as I turned back to the TV.
The terrible movie selection left me a little disheartened, but I kept browsing.

I heard her fiddling with the stove and messing with the pans in the kitchen.
The cabin had everything we needed — it was nice like that.

She came back after a minute, plopping down next to me while the kernels started popping on the stove.

Of course, Violet couldn’t help but butt in.

"I'm not in the mood for drama. I want something fun," she demanded, her tone bossy but adorable.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"I was the one who suggested this whole thing. I’ll pick something good," I said, all smug.

She rolled her eyes and snatched the remote from me, shifting closer until she was practically crawling into my lap.

When she straddled me, sitting fully in my lap, it was like flipping a switch inside me.
My jaw clenched automatically.

Having her there, like that — it was torture. Sweet, maddening torture.

"Maybe we should watch something a little... hotter," she murmured, giving me a teasing look.

I grinned wickedly at her.

"And are you more into the hardcore stuff, or something more romantic?" I teased back.

She bit her bottom lip and laughed.

"I think both are good, depending on the mood.
If things are getting hot, a little mix of the two might be... perfect."

She whispered the last part against my mouth, and I felt the heat of her breath, tinged with the scent of wine, mixing with mine.

My hands, which had been resting harmlessly on her waist, slid upward.
I felt the soft fabric of her shirt beneath my fingers, moving slowly up her spine until I cupped the back of her neck.

I laced my fingers into her hair and gave a gentle tug, forcing her head up so I could get a clear, unbroken look at her flushed face.

My free hand traced the clean line of her jaw, then slid down her throat, pressing lightly — just enough to make her feel it.

She smiled against the pressure.
Then, mischievous as ever, she broke free just long enough to grab my hands and place them firmly on her ass, punctuating the move with a sharp slap that made me groan deep in my chest.

I leaned in, desperate to taste her mouth again, when the shrill, piercing beep of the smoke detector exploded in the cabin.

We froze, wide-eyed.

The popcorn.

We bolted into the kitchen, but by the time we got there, the damage was already done.