Angel - Chapter Three

She reluctantly let go of his hand and ran her fingers through her hair, snagging them on a knot. Disconcerted at the reminder of her unkempt appearance, she smiled and dropped her hand to the side even as she moved away from the couch. “Excuse me,” she said as she turned and walked swiftly down the hall. Throwing open the bathroom door, she shut it behind her and gaped at her reflection. This is not happening. Mascara was smeared down her cheeks and her hair hung in frizzed dischevelment. She had forgotten about her disorderly appearance as a distraction in the form of a tall, gorgeous man had kept her from thinking over much.

She turned on warm water and began washing the mascara off her face, grabbing a comb from beneath the sink and brushing through the tangled mop once she finished. Ten minutes later she stood before the mirror in a slightly more seemly appearance. She smiled, trying to gauge how he must see her. Green eyes and dark brown lashes framed in a heart-shaped face stared back at her. Loose curls hung in front of her eyes and she pushed them back with one hand, watching as they resumed their previous position.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Alisa, are you alright?”

“Yes, I'll be out in just a sec,” she said to the door as she grabbed a rubber band from the drawer and threw her hair into a messy pony tail. Looking at herself one last time before confronting her guest, she turned the knob and stepped into the hallway. And came nose-to-chest with a man. “Oh! Sorry,” she said as she scrambled backward, reaching for the wall to catch herself as she tripped over her feet. He reached out and caught her with one arm, her back resting easily on the underside of his forearm.

She looked into light brows eyes, her mouth opening slightly on a soft gasp as she came within inches of tanned, silken skin. They stood that way for what felt like an eternity, him cradling her in one strong arm as she gazed into the unearthly beautiful face. She lifted her hand slowly, yearning to caress his cheek. She blinked rapidly, coming to her senses, as she forced her hand down and tried to restore some semblance of poise. She pulled her feet under her and stood upright even as the man maintained his hold on her lower back.

She cleared her throat and side-stepped out of his reach, smiling at him demurely as she ducked her head and walked back into the kitchen. She placed her hands on the tiled counter and hung her head. This is all just too much for one day. She let out a heavy sigh and reached into the cabinet to take out two coffee mugs. She poured the still-steaming tea into both cups and held her own up to her face, taking in the fragrant warmth. She closed her eyes for a brief moment to savor the simple luxury before picking up the second mug and walking into the living room.

Raphael was already sitting on the couch, his arm on the rest as he looked up at her. I could get used to this, she thought to herself as she handed the cup to him. “Here, I poured you a cup of Green Tea. I know you said you've never had tea, but I thought you might like to try it.” He held the mug in his hand, looking at it curiously for a moment before placing the cup to his lips and drinking.

And promptly took on the expression of one who has just scalded their tongue on hot tea.

“Why do you drink this?” He said as he held the cup away from him, looking at it as if it had purposely burned him.

“Well, I usually blow on it first,” She said, eyebrows raised in emphasis as she blew on her own mug in demonstration.

He watched her for a moment, his brows wrinkling before pulling the cup back in front of him. “I see.” He began blowing on his own and cautiously took another sip, a look of satisfaction lighting his face.

She took a sat at the other side of the couch facing him, crossing her legs under the black pencil skirt as she relaxed into the worn cushion. “Do you like it?”

“Yes, it is,” He frowned, looking as if he was searching for the right word, “interesting.”

She laughed softly at his thoughtful assessment of something as simple as Green Tea. “Are you hungry? I was just going to make spaghetti for dinner, but if you'd like something else...?” She trailed off, giving him an opening to make a suggestion.

“I do not know what spaghetti tastes like, but feel free to make whatever pleases you, Alisa.”

Realization dawned on her. It all makes sense now. “Are you a foreigner?” No wonder he has no home and doesn't know what any of my food tastes like. She smiled to herself in triumph, it's all coming together.

“I,” He paused, brows furrowed. Moments passed before he said, “No I am not.”

Nonplussed by her incorrect assumption, she trudged on, curious to know as much about her new room mate as possible. “Are you just new to New York, then?”

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before answering, “I have been a resident of New York for many years.”

“Oh really? What part?” She was genuinely curious at this point and the corners of her mouth tilted up as she leaned forward in what her mother referred to as 'active listening'.

“I have spent a considerable amount of time in all burroughs.”

“Sounds like you've had a lot of experience in New York then.” She smiled at him, willing him to carry the conversation, but only silence stretched between them.

After a few moments of silence, he became consciously aware that she was waiting on him to say something. Recalling that it was common courtesy of mortals to ask one another about their history, he turned to her. “Are you from New York City?”

“Nope. Born and raised in Charleston, South Carolina,” she said in perfect replica of a southern belle.

“Charleston is a beautiful city,” he said as he leaned forward and placed his elbows upon his knees, mug still held in hand. He took another mouthful of the, now cool, tea before continuing, “I spent many years there growing up.”

Alisa was beaming. Any mention of Charleston took her back to soft beaches, sweet tea, and southern hospitality, but it delighted her more now knowing that her sex-on-a-stick room mate shared an affinity for her hometown. “Really? What High School did you go to? I'm surprised I haven't met you before now.”

He watched as the woman before him flushed in excitement, emerald eyes dancing in mention of the town she was raised. His eyes traveled from the spiral curls upon her head that seemingly took on a life of their own to the stretched fabric of her blouse that heaved with every excited breath. Seeing that she was still waiting for a response, he turned his attention back to her face. “I was homeschooled.” He did not want to lie to the woman, but there was no way to reveal the truth to her.

“Oh, maybe that's why.” She sighed heavily and stood up, rubbing her palms on her pencil skirt in an attempt to unwrinkle it. “Well I guess I should get dinner started. Are you sure spaghetti is alright?”

“Spaghetti will do fine.”

He look up at the tall woman, mouth tilted slightly up at the corners. He was finding himself uncharacteristically attracted to the small mouthed, wide-eyed mortal. Angelic females were unmatched in their beauty, their voices derived straight from the heavens, but there was something endearing about the curvacious, talkative woman. He watched as she turned and walked towards the kitchen, her hips swaying slightly in the low-heeled shoes.

Enduring 5,000 years as a Guardian, he had learned how mortals worked, spoke, lived, and related to one another. However, Heavenly Law forbade Guardians to interact with their humans, save the most urgent of situations, and strictly prohibited any intimate relationship forming between a Guardian and its mortal. That, along with the longevity of his existence had distanced himself from the raw emotions that mortals experienced in their minute lifespans. But the newness of his mortal body in its raw emotional and physical state was awakening feelings that had long lied dormant.

At the mention of his physical weakness, a gnawing pain began forming in the pit of his stomach. Thankfully his mortal had already started dinner and he heard the soft crunch of raw spaghetti strands as she broke them into the bubbling water.

A soft, high pitched bell began sounding from behind the couch and he stood up to locate the disturbance even as Alisa ran into the living room. She bent down to her purse and extracted the small, pink cell phone. She smiled at the name appearing on the screen and pressed the dial to answer.

“Hello?”

Reviews

[André-J-Franklin]

First of i'd say continue the story! It not what we think but what you think if you believe it has a fight chance continue your work. Me personally i like where this is going it's different anything can happen in six months. Those events though will never make it to the light though unless you try. It's not like you have anything to lose right.