Page 8 of Angel
We seemed to be in the clear, far away from anyone who might see what we were up to and report back to the powers that be.
Our luck would only last so long.
I didn’t know just what I was doing, or just what I planned to do. All I knew was that I couldn’t leave Paige to deal with things on her own. Already being involved with the drama, I was obligated to seeing things through. I needed to stay close to Paige, no matter what happened.
“This place is nice,” she murmured, scooting her chair into the table for two tucked away in a back corner.
I smiled over at her. “It gets packed in the summer. There’s often an hour-long wait. It’s the best authentic Italian in town.”
Her eyes swept across the dining room, empty except for two other tables. “But now we have the place to ourselves.”
A fire started in my groin, spread up through my stomach, enveloping my body. “We’ll have the house to ourselves as well.”
Lightning flashed in her eyes. “Good.”
I internally sighed in relief. She didn’t hate me. It was good to know, because my shepherding her away from the city didn’t necessarily mean much.
I gulped and resisted the urge to drag her out of the restaurant. The main course hadn’t even arrived.
“I told you about my summers here,” I slowly said. “What about you? What did you do when you were a kid?”
One corner of her mouth lifted. “I mostly kept to myself. I had Sophia sometimes. She was always more on the social side, so whenever she was off with friends, I’d just entertain myself. I read a lot and did a bit of sketching.”
“That’s… cute.”
“No it isn’t, but that was me.”
“What about when you were older? A teenager?”
“It was kind of the same deal. Minus the sketching.”
“At least you have good taste in company.”
She snickered. “Thanks.”
“And, after you gave up the art stuff, what did you do during all those hours alone?”
She tucked some hair behind her ear. “I still wrote a lot. Poems and songs mostly. Sometimes short stories, but I didn’t get very far, with midterms and such.” Paige noticed the smile on my face and added, “What?”
“It sounds a lot like me when I was that age. I used to spend hours writing these awful songs on my electric guitar.”
Her eyes playfully narrowed. “I thought you were out chasing tail with your friends.”
I rested my arms on the small table and leaned forward. “That too,” I admitted. No sense hiding who I was. “But when I wasn’t doing that, I was at home nursing a dream to be the next Bon Jovi.”
“Bon Jovi?Really?”
I ducked my head. “So now you know something about me no one else does.”
“I’d like to hear one of these songs you wrote.”
“Who knows? Maybe we can find an old recording at the house.”
Paige bit her bottom lip and smiled wider. “This is going to be good.”
“Hold on now. If we happen to find an old recording and you listen to it, we need to make a trade. An eye for an eye.”
“Huh?”
