Page 21 of When the Angel Falls First

But as I reached the next intersection, my feet just stopped. I sighed, shaking my head at my own ridiculousness.

“Come on. Even Harry Potter could make himself go into the Forbidden Forest.”

I spun on my heel and started back toward the waterfront, a voice in my head—perhaps my mother’s—telling me I was crazy. As the distance to the meeting point shrank, my doubts surged again. Could I do this? Could I face Caleb, not as the love of my life, but as a friend?

Not possible, the voice rang through me.You’ve always known he’s the only man for you.

“Get out of here,” I said to the voice, and a person walking past gave me a funny look. “Sorry, not you.”

As I turned the corner, the setting sun cast long shadows,and the waterfront opened up before me. There he was, leaning against the railing, gazing out at the water. Caleb. His sandy hair was tousled, catching the dying sunlight, glowing like a halo.

An angel.

I caught my breath as I took him in. He was the same Caleb I knew, yet everything seemed to be magnified.

The casual way he watched the water, the quiet confidence in his stance, the way his shirt hugged every muscle—everything about him was disarmingly charming and overwhelmingly irresistible.

The sensation was back, a tingling that set me on fire and put everything into hyper-focus. Wetness grew between my legs, though I tried to tell myself it’s only because of the memories and not because of the man in front of me now. Except that my body knew better. I was filled with an undeniable longing, a longing I was fighting to keep under control. A fight I feared I was going to lose.

Remember—friends don’t rip each other’s clothes off.And we were just friends.

I wasn’t prepared to face him yet, to deal with the rush of desire that surged at the sight of him. Ducking behind a nearby streetlamp, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I needed to find the strength within myself to face him as a friend, nothing more.

It was as if I’d walked into a scene fromPride and Prejudiceand he was my Mr. Darcy.

“No, bad analogy, bad analogy,” I chastised myself. I took a few more deep breaths, clutching the edge of the lamppost for support. My palms were sweaty. This was not a classic love story. This was just a platonic meeting. Right?

Even as I bolstered myself, every nerve ending, every fiberof my being, screamed otherwise.We were always meant to be something more, much more than just friends.

It was a deafening thought, and ignoring it was going to kill me. But I had to try.

With one last steadying breath, I peeked around the streetlamp. Caleb was still there, oblivious to my inner turmoil. But the sight of him made my resolution waver again.

“Get it together, Josie.” I stepped out from behind my hiding place, frozen in indecision between stepping toward him and darting back toward the safety of my apartment.

I steeled my nerves, my great-grandmother’s advice echoing in my mind.Don’t force it, don’t rush it. Let it find you when it’s meant to.

But how could I tell when it was meant to find me? What if I was just holding on to a memory, a desperate wish never meant to be fulfilled?

TEN

Caleb

Josie’s indecisionwas tearing me in two. I’d sensed her slow approach before she ever made it to the corner, every bit of me on high alert, anticipating our time together that evening. But while I was hyped up, she was moving slowly. Unsure? Changing her mind?

I stared out over the water, keeping my pose relaxed as I waited for her. I wished desperately in that moment that I still had my wings, still had the ability to scoop her up and fly her away from the noise and the clutter of the city, into the clouds, where it was just the two of us.Angel and Chosen. Lovers written in the stars. Where I could stare into her eyes, surrounded by the heavens, without all the pressure that came with human life.

But I didn’t, and I couldn’t. Her being my Chosen was nothing but a dream, one that could never come to be.

And we were just friends, a reality I was struggling by the second to remember as I spent more time in her orbit. Time had dampened the memories of the pull I felt toward her, but the second I’d stepped into her bookshop, it had all comeraging back to the surface. I needed her,wanted her, with a desire that burned in my blood. I could no more shake off that desire than I could my own nose.

Wanting her was part of me.

Yet here I was, pretending I didn’t know she hid behind a lamppost a few feet away, neither coming toward me nor running away.

Please don’t run away. Plea or prayer, I didn’t know.

I tried my hardest not to pry into her emotions, to let the steady rippling of the water lull me into patience. It wasn’t easy, though, and I let out a sigh of relief when she took the first step my way.

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