Page 5 of Angel

At school, even though I was quiet and invisible to most, he always noticed me, and when he said hi in his deep vibrato, it sent jolts through me.

When he added a lush smile, quirky with a touch of roguishness, I swooned.

He always asked how I was doing, and even offered to carry my heavy supplies bag to the art room several times.

A hot flush would creep up my neck as I stuttered out a response, telling him I’d take care of it, before he threw me a wink and prowled away.

I was left staring after him, his rich, deep laugh lingering in the air long after he disappeared.

He was beautiful inside and out.

Over time, I got convinced Evangeline did not deserve him.

I sensed the cracks in their relationship and realized that Evangeline used the same narcissistic tendencies she used on me on him.

The way she spoke to him with disdain disgusted me; how she pushed him around infuriated me.

After high school, her behavior worsened.

Her screaming matches, disappearing acts, breakups, and drug-binged toxicity amped up.

As her boyfriend, Angel was left to deal with it, and I hurt for him.

Her behavior escalated; when she was mad at him, she tended to hit him in front of others.

He always talked her down, gently holding her back with his strength, despite the grim expression in his eyes.

I watched from the sidelines as they went through messy breakups and dramatic reunions, even as my heart broke for him.

Angel stuck by her because whatever else he was, the man was loyal to his core.

Still, they made a gorgeous couple: he so handsome and talented, she so beautiful.

After graduating, he joined the Australian SAS, climbing the ranks to major before leaving the military behind to form Six Sinners.

The band went stratospheric after just a few years on the circuit, making him a tried-and-true rockstar at thirty-five with countless followers.

Angel was a mastermind lyricist whose tracks, the massive hit ‘Sinner’s Psalm’ and chart-topping anthem ‘Broken Halo’, were hymnals for millions.

His guitar skills were wild, his devastated ballads and his raspy vibrato brought out the goosies all over me.

I listened to his songs and memorized each one, fantasizing that he was singing them to me.

When my obsession grew out of hand, I tried temporary distractions, dating a few decent guys, but none of them ever measured up to Angel.

In time, I forced myself to let my envy go, accepting the brutal reality that a man like him would never consider a plain girl like me.

Not when he was in love with the life force that was Evangeline.

Then came their engagement announcement last year, which utterly annihilated me.

I went dark, hiding out in bed, unable to get up, mourning a future I knew I had no right to grieve.

Heart churning, stomach flipping in sickening free falls, I scrolled through their announcement photos.

There they were, glowing and in love, on some private beach littered with candles and rose petals, with Evangeline flashing an absurd pink diamond at the lens like a trophy.

At 35, Angel had matured into breathtaking gravitas, edged with dangerous, rakish beauty; handsome, tall, with dark, wavy hair that curled at the ends.