Going to Stronghold; we’re meeting Adam’s friends there and hanging out. What’s up?
Aw, I was hoping we could maybe do a double date.
She made a face. Somehow she couldn’t see Adam and Michael getting along very well, but maybe that’s just because she was biased.
Can’t tonight… maybe next weekend?
We’re gonna be at Michael’s parents next weekend. We’ll figure out a time.
Ok. Miss you!
Miss you too!
“Hey, ready?” Adam came striding down the hall towards the front door; Angel looked up and smiled.
“Oh my, getting fancy are we?”
“What are you talking about?” He looked down at the blue button-down shirt and jeans he was wearing.
“I didn’t know you had shirts in any colors,” she teased.
Adam made an exasperated sound, catching her waist with one arm and pulling her in for a kiss. She pressed herself against him, kissing him back with all the nerves and excited energy that was bundled up in her chest.
“Now I know why Michael calls you ‘pest,’” he said wryly as he pushed her out the front door.
******
About five minutes into the class, Angel realized she’d been had. Any beginners’ class tended to be easy to step into and many people were familiar with waltz, but they didn’t move with the smooth assurance that Adam did. He hadn’t mentioned that he’d taken dance before but there was no other explanation.
“Okay, very good everyone! Ladies move to the next gentleman.”
Her eyes narrowed as Leslie, one of the older women in the class, stepped up to dance with Adam. Leslie was sweet, but she was also terrible at following any kind of lead, except when she was dancing with the instructors. And yet, as the older woman chattered up at Adam, Angel could tell that she was actually following his lead. Which meant that it was particularly strong.
Like most ballroom dance classes there were more women than men enrolled, so Angel was dancing the men’s part, which meant that she didn’t get to dance with Adam and she couldn’t watch him the entire time, but from what she could see, this was not his first class. She didn't know whether to be impressed that he knew how to dance or annoyed that he hadn't told her. Show-off.
But that didn't stop the little smile from flickering every time she looked at him. It made her want to test his knowledge.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her parents come in and check out the class. She'd given them the heads up that she was bringing her boyfriend by. Although calling Adam her boyfriend made him sound so much more innocuous than he was. The man didn't look like a "boyfriend."
Since they were familiar with everyone in the class she knew that they picked him out immediately. Her dad sat down at one of the benches along the room to watch her teach while her mom started chatting with a couple that had just finished a private class with Meredith, one of the instructors. Even though it didn't look like her mom was paying attention, Angel knew that nothing escaped that woman's notice. Her dad didn't bother pretending he was doing anything other than watching the class.
******
By the time the class finished, Adam's neck felt almost itchy from all the prickling. He'd seen Angel's parents come into the room - at least he assumed they were her parents because she faintly resembled both of them - and ever since then he had that creepy-crawly feeling of being watched. Her father was a lot more obvious about it than her mother was, but he could feel it coming from both directions. It was a little bit distracting, although overall he was pleased about how he'd acquitted himself.
Years ago he'd taken some classes in waltz with Brooke. They hadn't gotten very far but he'd used it on other occasions as well and he'd always focused on making what he did know look good rather than trying to stomp his way through a bunch of fancy steps. He'd rather know less steps but look fantastic doing them.
"You should come to class more often," the woman he'd been dancing with last said. She patted him on the arm. "You're a good boy."
Adam managed to stifle his laugh. "Thank you, I might."
His gaze flicked over to Angel, who was showing one of the men part of the little sequence she'd taught during the class, and the woman's smile broadened. Giving his arm a final pat, she walked over to the closet where everyone's coats were hanging, sitting down on one of the available benches to change her shoes.
"You've danced before?" The question had him turning to face the older man who had appeared beside him. It took all of Adam's self-control not to jump; he hadn't heard any movement next to him.
Bright hazel eyes studied him alertly, flecked with brighter speckles of gold that harkened to the unusual shade of Angel's irises. "Mr. Jones, I presume? I'm Adam Rawn."
He held out his hand, which got a very brief shake as the shorter man peered up at him. The very briefness of the handshake didn't give him much of an impression; if he'd met Mr. Jones in the business world he would have assumed that the other man wasn't interested in what Adam had to say, but that completely contradicted the way the man was looking at him.
"She must like you, if she brought you here," Mr. Jones said. He slid his hands into his pocket, seemingly waiting on a response from Adam.
"Ah... I certainly hope she does."
"So you've danced before?"
Adam was starting to understand where Angel got her occasionally abrupt turns of conversation from, although with her father it was obviously habitual rather than occasional.
"A little bit."
"You're very smooth. Do you foxtrot?"
"No, just waltz and a little bit of swing." Despite the haphazardness of the questions, Mr. Jones' eyes were very sharp as he studied Adam, not at all put off by the fact that Adam fairly towered over him. When Angel's hand suddenly slid into his, Adam gave it a quick squeeze, feeling faintly relieved, despite the fact that he'd never been all that nervous about meeting parents. Mr. Jones' conversational style was a bit rattling.
"Hi Daddy, did you like the class?"
"It was very good. Mr. Rawn has danced before." It was said almost accusingly. Adam saw Angel's lips twitch.
"Yes, I noticed that as well," she said, turning her head to look up at him. "He didn't mention it before we came here."
"I wasn't sure how much I remembered," he said. "It's been years."
"Dancing is all muscle memory," Mr. Jones said sternly. "Do you like camping?"
"Uh, yes."
"Good." The older man started to turn and then stopped, eyeing Adam again. "It was nice to meet you. Have a good afternoon, Angel."
"You too, Sir."
"Bye Daddy."
Mr. Jones strode over to his wife, whispering something in her ear before heading out the door.
Angel squeezed Adam's hand, grinning up at him. "I think he liked you. Normally he doesn't make that much effort to talk to someone new."
"That was talking?"
"For him, for a first time introduction, yes. Don't worry, once he's more comfortable around you he'll talk a lot more. He's not like Leigh's Dad; her dad never talks."
"Ah. Okay. Good."
While they waited for Angel's mother to finish her conversation with her students, Angel pestered him with questions about his previous dance experience. That led to her actually dancing with him, wanting to find out what he knew out to do - which took less than three minutes to show her since all he could remember was the sequence they'd just learned in class and a silly little move that he remembered as being called "patty-cakes," following an underarm turn.
By the time they were done with that, Angel's mother was standing on the sidelines and she gave them a little smattering of applause. Unlike Mr. Jones, Mrs. Jones was like effervescent bubbles of personality, although her conversational style was also a little scattered. She approached every single sentence with the kind of enthusiasm most people reserved for their favorite topics.
Comparing her to Angel was rather entertaining; Angel was so obviously a mix b
etween her high-speed and verbose mother and her more laid back father. Mrs. Jones didn't physically bounce as she chattered, but she gave the impression that she was a high-energy, bouncy person. Her hands fluttered in front of her as she spoke, emphasizing every sentence.
He also learned that Angel could talk at extremely high speeds when she was conversing with her mother.
Somehow, Mrs. Jones managed to learn, and comment upon, everything about Adam that he usually imparted to a new acquaintance over a full dinner in less than fifteen minutes. The rundown of his parents, job, schooling, friends and as much as he could tell her about the beginning of his relationship with Angel had never been recounted so quickly.
They weren't able to tear themselves free until some of Mrs. Jones' students arrived for a private lesson. And he'd thought his mother was a talker. Good thing she lived in England; he had a feeling that when the two mothers met, he would want to find a place to hide. Mr. Jones would probably join him.
Then he realized, with a bit of a jerk, that he'd thought when the two mothers met, not if. Grinning, he took Angel's hand in his as they headed back out to his car.
"What are you so happy about?" she asked, looking at him a bit suspiciously.
"Just glad your parents seemed to like me."
Now when she smiled, he could see how much she resembled her mother. And if Angel aged anything like her mother, then he definitely wasn't going to have any complaints. "They did, didn't they? Although I think you had it easy, it's been a while since I introduced a guy to them, so they were prepared to like just about anyone."
"Hey now, don't take away from my glory," he admonished her with a little glare.
Angel giggled. "Sorry."
"Pest."
"I will bite you if you call me that again."
******
Having a man choose her clothes for her was a novel experience. Although Adam was very clear that he didn't want a 24/7 dominant relationship, he obviously enjoyed picking out the clothes that she was going to wear to Stronghold. What was surprising was that he picked out an outfit that was a lot more modest than Angel had expected.
When she asked, he said that it was because they were planning on hanging out with his friends, not on playing, but there was something about the way he acted that made her think he probably would have chosen something more modest anyway. She smiled a little bit to herself, remembering how he'd kept her on his lap the night before, securely wrapped in the blanket he'd gotten for her, until it was time to leave. While she wouldn't put up with petty jealousies or a boyfriend trying to force her to choose between him and her friends, she couldn't help but like a little display of possessiveness on Adam's part.
Especially since, privately, she had to admit to some similar feelings.
Sometimes she still worried that things were moving too fast, that she was being too incautious. Her feelings were getting all sorts of wrapped up around him, but she could tell that he was still working on being comfortable with the fact that she lived with three male roommates and that most of her friends were guys. There was still that little flash in his eyes every time she mentioned Mike's name.
She kept telling herself that it counted that he was trying not to let those things bother him, that as controlling as he got in the bedroom, he wasn't going to try to control her friendships. But sometimes she worried that she was too relaxed about the fact that he was trying and that he obviously didn't fully trust her yet. Not that he acted like he didn't trust her... but if he did, wouldn't he be totally okay with her living arrangements and her friends?
Or maybe she was just expecting too much; after all, it wasn't like any of her past boyfriends had been completely okay with her preference for guy friends. Most of them had said something to her at one time or another, no matter how hard they tried too.
Maybe that was it; maybe she was just waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Adam to say something. Not because she thought it would end the relationship immediately, like it had with her past boyfriends, but because, for the first time, she wasn't sure what she would do.
******
"Hey guys!" Lexie was positively brimming with happiness, seated at one of the tables at the bar rather than out at the front desk. Angel grinned, thrilled to see her friend inside the main room of the club - and not because of her party. Obviously she was making some progress on her determined inclusion in Stronghold, although Angel couldn't help but wonder how the young woman's campaign on the club's owner was faring. "Look where I am!"
Adam growled under his breath and Angel nudged him with her elbow. "So they've finally let you through the door, huh?"
"Just into this room, and only when accompanied by one of my faithful Sentinels," Lexie said, rolling her eyes and gesturing at the grouchy looking men arrayed around her. Olivia was the only dominant at the table who didn't look out of sorts; even Chris' expression was fairly clouded. Surprisingly, Patrick was nowhere in sight. "But the party was so popular and so many people e-mailed Patrick this week asking if he was going to do another one and when, that he's agreed to let me do a Saint Patrick's Day party! And since he already let me in this room for one night, it'd be silly to try to keep me out now."
"Yeah, and look how that turned out, he ended up beating up your boyfriend," Andrew said, glaring at the diminutive pixie. She just beamed at him, completely oblivious to the threatening looming stance he had over her.
"Not my boyfriend any more. And good riddance!"
"Cheers to that," Chris said, his trademark grin flashing across his face. Then, as if remembering himself, he glanced around suspiciously at the various Doms scattered around the bar.
As if any of them were stupid enough to think about propositioning Lexie.
Poor Lexie. Even if she was ever allowed into the rest of the club, Angel didn't think anyone would ever go against the displeasure of this group of Doms. Looking around the club she didn't see Mike there; he'd told her that he might not be able to go to the club as often as he might want to right now. He was trying to spend some time with the local theater crowd, getting back in good so that he could be employed in his preferred profession. Which she understood, but she wished he was there anyway; she had a feeling he'd be more sympathetic to Lexie's situation, and it wasn't like he would be in the position of seeing her as a little sister.
Not that she thought the two of them would make a good match or anything, but at least Lexie would get to play. If she was ever allowed on the other levels of the club, so it was a moot point right now anyway.
"Come sit with me, Angel, I need more estrogen around me to combat all this testosterone!"
"Hey!" said Olivia indignantly.
"I already asked you to sit next to me, and you moved," Lexie said, grinning.
"Only because I didn't want to sit so close to Truck Stop."
"Truck Stop?" Angel asked as she took Chris' place on the stool next to Lexie. Andrew was playing guard on her other side, two spaces were left between where he and Olivia were seated. Adam dragged a stool over from another table and pushed it in beside Angel's. "And where are Jessica and Hilary?"
"They're on their way with Justin and Liam," Chris informed her as he pulled up another stool. "Hmm. We may have to get another table over here."
"That's probably a good idea," Olivia said. "Quick, before Truck Stop comes back."
"Olivia play nice."
"What's Truck Stop?"
"Not what, who. And you're about to meet her." The unfriendly glint in Olivia's silver eyes was sharp enough to draw blood. Angel twisted around in her seat to see Jared walking towards them with a rather attractive submissive at his side. She was shaped similarly to Leigh, with a smaller upper body frame that flared out into "child birthing hips," as Angel's mom liked to call them. Long dark blonde hair was bobbing in a high pony-tail. The dismissive look she cast over the table of Jared's friends didn't endear her to Angel.
Then again, considering the fact that Olivia referred to her by a derogatory
nickname, it was obvious that she wasn't part of the 'big happy family' vibe this group sometimes gave off. Angel wondered why. Everyone had been perfectly nice to her when she showed up, except for Adam. She glanced at him, but the expression on his face was completely neutral.
"Hey Angel, good to see you again," Jared said, smiling down at her with pleasure as his eyes flicked over her and Adam. She was uncomfortably aware that all small conversations around the table had stopped and everyone was watching her, Adam, Jared and the woman - Angel was so not going to call her 'Truck Stop,' even in her head, when she didn't even know her. "This is my girlfriend, Marissa. Marissa, this is Angel."
"Hi." Up close, Marissa's facial features were a little too sharp for conventional beauty; Angel couldn't decide if it was the prominent bones of her face that made her look unfriendly or if she was just being biased because of everyone's reaction to her appearance, or if she actually was just that unfriendly.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you," Angel said, going for diplomacy. "Were you at the party here last weekend?"
"No, Jared was working and then he took me away for a romantic weekend." Marissa snuggled up to him with an adoring look, before glancing around the group of friends almost challengingly.
"Aw that's sweet, where'd you go?" Angel asked as Olivia bristled. She could sense the tension between everyone and for some reason Marissa's answer had increased that. There were some major undercurrents going on that she was probably stepping all over, but what else was she supposed to do? The others had finally started up some quite conversations with each other, but she could tell most of their attention was still focused on her and Marissa.
With something like surprise, Marissa smiled at her. "New York City. We saw Once on Broadway and had dinner at the Rainbow Room."
The answer took Angel a little bit by surprise, since she would have never expected that answer. Not that she knew Jared very well, but he just didn't seem like a city guy. When Marissa had said a romantic weekend away, Angel had assumed a B&B or the beach or something. She looked at Jared, who was watching the interplay between her and his girlfriend with his broad shoulders slightly hunched in a defensive posture.
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