Page 83 of Angel

But really, it’s my emotions I’m worried about. They’re so jumbled up and twisted into knots that I feel like laughing hysterically and crying just as hard at the same time.

The look on Angel’s face at the end… oh my god. So dazed and cum-drunk. He was so pliable and soft that I wished we were in bed, snuggled together under the covers.

And Christ, the way he licked my boot, his tongue running over the straps and skin. How he rubbed his face against my leg, then sank his teeth into my calf.

He’s so innocently erotic, unintentionally kinky. There’s no pretense, no exaggeration. He’s discovering all these new things about himself and he just… accepts them. There’s no freaking out, no denying his reactions. He simply takes it all in his stride. Pure and unencumbered.

How could I not have fallen in love with him? I was a lost cause the moment he sat down next to me on my childhood bed.

Sebastian lets us lie on the stage for a bit while he and Christian work around us. Angel’s breathing gradually slows to a point where he might be asleep and I reluctantly lift my head from his shoulder.

His lashes flutter and he blinks lazily at me for a second before a smile spreads across his face.

My heart stops at the sight, then swells impossibly large. It presses against the inside of my ribs until I think I’m going to burst. Goddamn it. I love him so fucking much.

And I have to believe that he feels something for me too. Maybe not the way I feel for him. Maybe not love. But something, right? People don’t smile like that at people they don’t care about. People don’t say ridiculously sweet things to randos.

I cling to the idea, sink my manicured nails into it. It’s the only thing keeping me afloat. It’s the only thing preventing me from sinking into the depths of despair.

“Hey, you guys good?” Sebastian asks, squatting down next to us.

I watch Angel for his answer, scouring his face for any signs of discomfort, of regret. I don’t find any.

“Yeah,” he says, sitting up.

I follow him, keeping myself tucked into his side.

“That foot thing?” Sebastian shakes his head. “Whew, that was hot.”

Angel’s ears go red. “We didn’t plan to do that. Is that okay?”

“Are you kidding me?” Sebastian laughs. “It’s way more than okay. It’s fantastic. We haven’t had a foot video before. Fans are going to eat this up!”

Angel ducks his chin shyly, but his smile broadens. Fuck. I can’t wait to get him alone so we can fully explore this foot fetish. I bet I could come just from Angel sucking on my toes.

“Great job, guys. You go get cleaned up. We’ll put the rest of the equipment away.”

I take Angel back to the dressing room. A pregnant silence settles over us as we wipe down and put our street clothes back on. There’s so much I want to say to Angel, so much I want to tell him. And yet, I don’t dare.

It’s cowardly, I know. Especially since he’s been so brave this whole time. Stepping outside his comfort zone, exploring all these new parts of himself. The least I could do is be honest with him about how I feel.

But I can’t. Not today, at least. I don’t want to ruin this buzz we’re floating in. I’m greedy and selfish. I want to drag this out for as long as I can.

All dressed—Angel in his standard jeans and casual button down, me in mustard-yellow corduroy bell-bottoms and an oversized cream sweater—and with our coats on, we head back out to join Sebastian and Christian. I pull my phone out of my bag to check it quickly for notifications. There’s a message from Hayden wishing me luck on the video. A few from social media, comments on posts about our first video. And a voicemail from Mom.

Argh.

Dread fills me and I stuff my phone back into my bag. Nothing good ever comes from a call from Mom. Who even leaves voicemails these days? Ugh.

“What’s wrong?” Angel asks.

I wipe my annoyance from my expression. “Oh, nothing. My mom just called.”

His eyes widen in concern. “Is everything okay?”

I shrug. “I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll listen to the voicemail later.”

“Are you sure? What if something happened?”

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