Dark Angel

by Bridget Essex

  Josie’s kisses, I’d always thought, were the most wonderful thing in the world. She was so incredibly hot and flirty and sensual, and the way she’d kissed me was always like she’d meant it, her soft mouth forming perfectly against mine, her lips curling up at the corners so that I could feel her smile while we were kissing. But the problem is that I knew now, of course, that she hadn’t meant those kisses for a very long time.

  Or at least that’s what she’d told me…

  But now, in this kiss, her warm mouth moving over mine, her tongue darting out between my lips and her own lips curling up at the corners, she was kissing like she meant it, and I was responding unconsciously with a kiss back, and it was nice, don’t get me wrong.

  But I didn’t feel a damn thing inside of me.

  I didn’t feel anything at all.

  I shook my head a little, pried her away from me, holding tightly to her shoulders as I frowned and held her at arm’s length. “Um…Josie…what are you doing here?” I muttered to her, trying to keep my voice civil. But every time I looked at her face, all I could think about was the way that she’d contorted it the day she’d left as she called me all those terrible names and told me what a loser I was.

  But Josie still had her arms wrapped around my neck so tightly that when I let go of her shoulders, she fell against me again with a happy squeal, her breasts squashing against mine, her hips grinding against mine. She kissed my cheek with wet lips, but then she was stepping back, looking me up and down with a sideways smile as she placed her hands on her hips, jutting them toward me like a pointing arrow.

  “Is that really how you great your girlfriend?” she asked me archly, waggling an eyebrow.

  I stared at her unblinking, my mouth open.

  “Oh, don’t get that look on. You know I hate that look.” She frowned, too, and then she relaxed a little as she bent her head and pulled out her ponytail holder, fluffing up her hair as it fell perfectly around her shoulders as she ran long fingers through it with a sigh.

  “Josie, I’d like to remind you,” I told her, my voice shaking, but my enunciation crystal clear, “that you broke up with me.”

  She shrugged and smiled brightly at me, pulling the pony tail holder onto her wrist. “Oh, baby, you’re being completely ridiculous!” She stuck her tongue out at me and shook her head. “God, seriously. I didn’t break up with you—”

  “Um, yes. Yes you did,” I told her, straightening and brushing angrily past her. I rounded on her once I reached my living room. I spread my hands, shaking my head, practically spluttering as I tried to find all the right words. “You can’t re-write history, Josie,” I told her, my voice shaking, but the words sharp. “What, did that asshole kick you out and now you have no place to go, and you thought to yourself, ‘Great! I still have a key for that apartment where that poor girl I strung along lives’?”

  “No.” Her big blue eyes were starting to fill with tears, and she had her arms wrapped around her middle now, acting as pained as if I was the one who had left her in that spectacularly painful fashion.

  “You left me for Travis,” I told her hotly, feeling the earlier energy begin to drain out of me. I was too exhausted for any of this. “Why are you here, Josie?” I asked her then, sounding—even to myself—utterly defeated.

  She looked incredibly hurt, a single tear tracing itself down her pretty cheek. “I’ve been really worried about you,” she choked out with a small sob. “I’ve been trying to find you everywhere, I have the police out looking for you—I stayed here because I was desperately hoping that you’d come home. Where have you been? I was worried sick!”

  I was too surprised to stop her from collapsing into my arms as she began to sob in earnest.

  “Where were you, baby? I thought you were—that you were dead!” The sobs were being choked out with gusto now, and she was inhaling great big gulps of air, and then sobbing even heavier against me.

  I stared down at her, my mouth open, my eyes wide, and for a long, drawn out moment, I had absolutely no idea what to do I was so surprised. But then instinct began to kick in. “It’s okay,” I soothed, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and squeezing tightly. “It’s all right.”

  “Is it, babe?” she whispered, looking up into my eyes with her own tear-filled ones. Tears spilled out of the corners, running down her face one after the other. “Where were you?” she asked me, shaking her head and sniffing, wiping under her nose. “Did you do something terrible after our fight? I tortured myself this whole time,” she said, the tears continuing to fall, “because I thought I’d made you—made you—” she couldn’t finish the thought and just pushed her wet face against my shoulder, sobbing harder.

  She thought she’d made me commit suicide? Had she never known me at all? I was the last person on the face of the world to commit suicide. That’s one of the things she’d told she hated about me, after all—my steadiness.

  I sighed and pressed my chin to the top of her head, holding her tight. “No, no, I’d never do anything like that,” I muttered.

  But she kept sobbing, holding me close like she’d just been pitched off a boat in the middle of the ocean, and I was her life preserver.

  “I would never have been able to forgive myself. Baby, I love you so much,” she moaned.

  Oh, my God.

  She’d said it.

  “What?” I whispered. Again, I pried her away from me and stared down into her eyes, searching them for some hint of a joke. Some hint to tell me that she was making all of this up, that this was some elaborate ruse to laugh at me, just like Elle had. But there was nothing in her eyes but a hell of a lot of tears that kept spilling down her face, spilling unchecked.

  “I love you, Casey,” she murmured, and then she reached up, wrapped her arms tightly around my neck again, and she kissed me.

  I was too shocked to even respond, but my body moved in all the right ways—I put an arm around her waist, another around her shoulders, and I drew her to me tightly as I kissed her back. It was a sloppy kiss—she was pretty sniffly, and there was a lot of salt because of how hard she’d been crying. But even as I grappled with the fact that, after all of this, after all of the terrible things she’d told me, that she would be here, in my apartment, none of the theatrics or tears mattered.

  I couldn’t forget what she’d told me. What she’d called me. When all I’d done was love her, and she’d been apparently “disgusted” by that. How could she come back now and tell me that she loved me, like none of it had ever happened?

  She broke away from me, then, as if she could tell what I was thinking, and she stared me down with a soft sigh, her bleary eyes starting to become clearer as she wiped away more tears. “Casey, please listen to me. I promise you,” she whispered, brushing her lips over my cheek, claiming my mouth again. “I promise you,” she repeated after a long moment and a very sweet kiss, “that I’ll make up for everything stupid I’ve said and done. That’s what I was. I was stupid. I know what I did was wrong now, and I’m going to do everything in the world to make it up to you, Casey—because you deserve so much better than that. I love you. I love you, and I’m so sorry, and I’m going to fix everything, all right?”

  I stared down at her in amazement. But she wasn’t done. I was wearing the same clothes that I’d worn to the office a few days ago—freshly laundered by Alec, much to my chagrin (who wants a new acquaintance doing your laundry?)—and now Josie pushed down the edge of my blouse and began to kiss my neck, my collarbone…her fingers were insistently creeping up under the hem of my blouse, too, and were beginning to work at the clasp of my bra.

  “Josie—” I began, but she silenced me with another kiss. But this didn’t feel right. I mean, she’d said everything I’d imagined and hoped she would say when, in my daydreams, she’d realized what a terrible mistake she’d made and that she did, after all, love me and not that stupid jock. But it just didn’t feel…real. Though I didn’t know why.

  Actually, that’s a bit of a l
ie.

  I did know why.

  When I closed my eyes and Josie was kissing me…it was Elle that I hoped I would see when I opened my eyes again. Not her.

  It was Elle that I was thinking about now, telling me that she loved me. I was imagining that moment with all my heart, that she’d say that she felt the connection too, that there was something strong and beautiful between us.

  Not that I believed that she’d ever say those things. But still, whether I thought this could become a reality or not didn’t matter. Because it wasn’t Josie who I wished was in my arms.

  It was Elle.

  Elle was everything I could think about or hope for, the woman with the strong, sarcastic mouth; the dark, deep eyes that lured me in. She was everything that I could have ever imagined I could fall for, and more besides. And she wasn’t perfect—God knew she wasn’t perfect. She was a vampire, and she could be so cruel and terrible. But no one’s perfect. There had been something so strong between us, so unbreakable, but now it was all over. And it wasn’t Elle in my arms—it was Josie.

  I needed to realize that I wasn’t going to be able to be with Elle. And I needed to accept that. She used women. She didn’t love them. And there was nothing I could do to change her.

  I needed to know what I had right here. Right in front of me, in my arms.

  Somehow, impossible, I’d been given another chance with Josie.

  But even as she kissed me, as I kissed her, as her fingers traced patterns over my skin and undid my bra clasp, all of this just seemed too good to be true. The kiss was sincere enough, the way she was touching me and holding me close seemed real. But it just was too impossible.

  “But what about…” I swallowed, wondering if I had the courage to say it. But I found the courage, somehow. “You said that you were disgusted by what we did together now,” I told her, searching her eyes as tears began to fill my own. It looped over and over, that sneer, how she spat out that she “wasn’t a dyke,” and “it’s fucking unnatural,” and “you’re so fucking disgusting to me.”

  I stared down at her, those words playing over and over in my head. That was the last conversation that I’d had with her. And now this? These regretful tears and kisses and waiting for me to come home? It seemed so impossible. This wasn’t like Josie at all.

  I shook my head, searching her eyes. “How can I forget what you said, Josie?” I whispered.

  “I was so stupid. So stupid,” she answered immediately, shaking her head and biting her lip as she looked up at me. “Those were the words Travis used, babe. Not me. I was just repeating them, because I was so damn confused. He had me wound so tight—I mean, he was telling me that what we were doing was wrong, and you know how Momma is super into Jesus, and that’s how I was raised, and it’s hard to—”

  “No,” I told her, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know anything about your mother, because I never had the chance to meet her because—”

  “I was stupid,” she repeated, searching my eyes. “You have to believe me, Casey. I was completely and utterly stupid, and I’m so sorry, and if I have to spend every day of the rest of my life making it up to you, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do. If you let me. And, God, I hope you let me.”

  I stared down at her for a moment too long. For a single moment too long, I was silent, and I guess she thought my silence was a “yes.” Because she smiled again as brightly as the sun, and she was kissing me again, her fingers up and beneath the back of my shirt almost immediately as she sought for the straps of my bra.

  And I stood there, hurt and confusion roaring through me.

  And I let her.

  I wanted in that moment, more than anything, to feel something good. After all of this heartache and pain, I wanted something nice. Something lovely. I struggled with her, as we kissed and touched, to keep ourselves upright as we stumbled together to the bedroom.

  I caught little glimpses of my apartment as we went, and I was shocked to see that it was exactly the way I’d left it. As we stumbled through the kitchen, I was gratified to glimpse Tanya, my cat, sitting at her newly filled bowl, crunching away happily, the little bell on her collar ringing. So Josie had taken care of Tanya. That was nice. That had been a nice thing to do.

  Yes, I could concentrate on that. I could concentrate on the fact that she’d kept my cat from starving while I’d been gone. If I could concentrate on that, then I could forget all of the terrible, hurtful things she’d told me with that horrific sneer on her face as she packed up her bag, never to return again.

  Or so I’d thought.

  I could forget all of that because she was here now. I could forget Elle, because it wasn’t Elle in my arms. It was Josie. Beautiful, sweet Josie who I’d loved so much. Who I could learn to love again.

  I could learn, I told myself over and over.

  Liar, liar, came the thought rising in my heart. But I squashed it.

  I pulled the Red Sox shirt over her head, and she unbuttoned my work blouse with quick fingers. She pushed me down onto the bed, and then she was on top of me. She’d never been the aggressor—she always wanted me to seduce her, and I had, so many times. It was strange as she straddled my hips with that smile, as I watched her beautiful body, her beautiful breasts, her beautiful curves—everything about her was so beautiful.

  But inside, I felt nothing but dread and worry. And I felt as if there was something wrong about all of this.

  Josie shouldn’t have come back, I knew, if I was being honest with myself.

  We hadn’t been good together.

  And we wouldn’t be good together now.

  I was so overwhelmed with worry at that moment that I didn’t know what else to do. I had to stall. “I, ah…I have to use the bathroom,” is what I told her, struggling to rise up to my elbows. There was my half-naked ex-girlfriend straddling my hips and sitting on me, her hands drifting closer to my own breasts, her bright blue eyes dark with want, and I was stopping it.

  God, am I crazy? I thought miserably as I stared up at her.

  “That’s all right—” she practically chirped, then her smile deepened. “You go pee, and I’ll put on some sexy music,” she whispered in a sultry voice as she leaned over me, her long blonde hair brushing tantalizingly on my skin, her warm lips tracing a pattern down my neck. And then she hopped right off, rolling to a stand on my plush bedroom carpeting. Josie sauntered over to my MP3 player speakers and began to fiddle with them, completely half naked and confidant and not even bothering to glance over her shoulder at me to see if I was getting up to actually use the bathroom, like I’d told her I had to.

  I sighed and got up, pulling my unbuttoned blouse back to center and doing up a few of the buttons. My bra was just draping in front of me since she’d undone the clasp, but I didn’t bother with doing that back up until I’d crossed the length of the bedroom and shut the bathroom door tightly behind me.

  I pressed the lock, flicked on the light and stared at myself in the mirror.

  Could I do this? Could I do this knowing that we weren’t good together? Could we restart this when I had so many reservations? When I really didn’t think this was a good idea? I’d loved Josie so much, and I was glad that we’d had the time together that we did, but I knew what I wanted out of life now. I wanted a partner who would love me back, unconditionally, who was proud to be with me, who wanted me as much as I wanted her.

  And that wasn’t Josie. And I didn’t think that could ever be Josie.

  God, I had such a headache. All I’d wanted to do when I came home was sleep forever, not deal with my ex-girlfriend showing up and proclaiming that she loved me—and that she wanted to make love to me. Normally this would have been the most perfect night of my life, what I’d wished would happen over and over again, but now that it was actually happening, it felt so wrong.

  I turned on the cold tap and splashed some water on my face, letting it run down and over my flushed, hot cheeks as it dripped off my chin. I looked so haggard and exhausted
in the mirror, dark circles around my eyes from the incessant and mind-numbing headache that moved through me. I hadn’t eaten anything in a long while, but I could probably take some Ibuprofen without too much of a stomach upset. I would deal with anything right now to at least make the pounding in my skull go away. I opened up the medicine cabinet, rummaging around through the bottles for the right one.

  But there, on the middle shelf, plain as day was…well.

  It looked exactly like a diamond engagement ring.

  I stared at it for a long moment, not really sure if my brain was computing what I was seeing correctly. I picked it up, brought it up to my face and looked at it closely, turning it this way and that in the glaring brightness of the bathroom light. I’m no judge of jewelry or expensive rocks, but this ring didn’t look fake. It looked like a real diamond, real gold. And the diamond itself was enormous. It was the kind of engagement ring that probably made your hand heavy when you put it on.

  Where could this possibly have come from?

  I stared at it for a long moment, my heart and head starting to pound in equal, ferocious tandem.

  There was really only one possibly answer to that question.

  Was this Josie’s ring?

  I set the diamond ring back onto the shelf, and I pushed the medicine cabinet door shut as quietly as I could, taking big gulps of air. The ring had to be Josie’s—who else could it belong to?

  My brain was going through the logical progression, and I couldn’t stop it.

  Because if the ring was Josie’s, that meant that Travis had proposed to her.

  It meant that Josie had been seeing him for a hell of a lot longer than she’d let on, effectively cheating on me with him for probably months an months.

  And it meant that Josie was engaged to Travis.

  So what the hell was she doing here? With me? Wanting to sleep with me, telling me that she loved me and that she was desperate for another chance?

  I felt like I wanted to lie down and sleep for forever as I ran a tired hand through my hair. I gripped the edge of the bathroom sink and took steady, deep breaths. I was too exhausted to deal with any of this. I was weary, bone weary, the kind of empty exhaustion that comes when your heart has been rung out several times in one day and can’t take one more bit of pain.