Page 59 of Angels Fall

I swallow, and then gulp in air. I lift my head to look in the mirror and see him, his head down now, his eyes shut tight and his body twitching with small spasms.

When he finally lifts his head again and opens his eyes, they immediately find mine. We stare at each other. Neither one of us says anything. Neither one of us wants to. Both of us are aware that we have crossed over somewhere. Both of us seem to know that even though there is still much to figure out, we are perhaps one step closer. On this day of giving thanks, we are unexpectedly and incomprehensibly edging toward something with each other that we have both lacked for a long time and that we both very much need.

Understanding.

Chapter Thirteen - Tyler

“Why are you staying at Evan’s? What happened with your place? I thought you liked it.” she calls to me. She’s in the walk-in closet, looking through her mom’s things for something to wear. I’m sitting in one of the chairs in the… I dunno. Parlor? I guess? This place is pretty sick. I should see if they’ll just let me live here.

“Um, my place got…” I stop short because for whatever reason—maybe it’s because her parents are here, maybe it’s just because my dick has magical powers—things seem to be real cool between us right now. And I don’t wanna ruin it. And call me crazy, but telling her that I burned my apartment down during a psychotic fever dream after I found out that she, Maddie, was the person I was fucking seems like it might just set us back a step.

“Got what?” she asks from the other room.

“I just… felt like it was time to move on from that joint, honestly. It was so, y’know, hectic in the middle of the Strip and all. So, I dunno, I’m thinking of moving out to the desert. Quiet feels like the right play for me right now.”

“Yeah? Well, if you need somebody with a twelve-thousand-dollar drone to scout territory for you, I may know someone.” She steps out into the main bedroom area wearing…well, mom pants. And, like, a flower shirt thing. “How’s this? OK?” she asks.

Fuck. Do I lie? Do I tell her that it makes her look a fifty-five-year-old? Albeit a sexy-as-fuck fifty-five-year-old, but still. Or do I—?

“OK,” she says, and marches back into the closet.

“What? I didn’t say anything!” I call after her.

“Yeah, you did,” she shouts back.

“Do you want help?”

There’s no response. I take that to mean that she doesn’t want any help. That’s cool. Two can play this silence-implies-information game.

I sit there quietly for a moment, thinking about how…normal…this feels. Almost like she’s my girlfriend or whatever and I’m waiting on her to get ready so that we can go have Thanksgiving dinner with her family. All of which is, of course, what is happening.

Except that she’s not my girlfriend.

She’s… I’m not sure what. I mean I know who and what she is to the world, but I don’t know who and what she is to me. But I’ve been given the advice to back off and let her be by enough different people now that I’m gonna try to just shut up and not fuck it all up. (Good luck, bro.)

After a few moments of quiet (Which is nice, I’m realizing. As long as my brain plays along and doesn’t disrupt the peace) she steps back into view and leans against the doorway. She’s down to just her underwear again. Is she trying to do me in? Maybe so. Maybe her plan for getting back at me for everything is to sexy me to death. Fine. I’ll take it. About a trillion times better than the other ways people have tried to kill me.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks.

“Yes, we can do it again,” I say as I stand, start unbuckling my pants, and move toward her.

She puts her hand out to stop me. Shit. Well, worth a shot. I put my hand up in return and take my seat again.

“Yes. Please. Ask away,” I acquiesce.

“Why did you do this? All this, with my parents? Why?”

“Um…”

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it. I really do. I think I just showed you that.”

“Yes, and I appreciate that.” I bounce my eyebrows at her. I’m so fuckin’ charming.

“But why did you do it? What made you? Was it just so I’d fuck you again?”

Jesus. Is she serious? I can feel myself starting to get hot. I tried to do a nice fucking thing and she thinks… She thinks…

Shit. It’s hard to focus with her standing there looking sexy as...a...um...shit, I got distracted again. Fuck. But, oh! What made me do the thing with her folks? Got it.“Was it so I’d fuck you?” I laugh a little. “Um, well, I guess… OK, So, lemme say a couple things. First I talked with Pete—”