"Come on, come on," I mutter under my breath as I rock myself back and forth, with no intention of walking away from the door I'm standing in front of. The sign still says they're 'open'; I can see some light through the fogged up window, and it's only fifteen minutes past closing time. I'm only fifteen minutes late.
If my mother saw me like this, she would surely disown me.
With a sigh of impatience and what feels like self-pity, I knock on the door again; still no reply. I don't know which part of my brain thought this was a good idea, but here I am, at 11:16 on a Tuesday night, knocking on the door of a – most likely empty – diner.
It was probably the bored part of my brain. And the one that didn't want to go out with Seth tonight. And the one that wanted to see her – but I don't really think it was my brain that wanted to see her.
After waiting for another quarter of a minute, I decide that it's hopeless; she's probably just forgotten to turn the sign around, before she left the place. The light inside is probably coming from the fridges, where they keep the drinks and such. It's hopeless. Hopeless.
Another sigh leaves my lips as I keep repeating that word in my head, but it doesn't stop me from knocking for the third, and final time. However, just as I make a step back, I freeze in my spot when I hear a clicking sound coming from inside. Could it be..?
"We're clo- oh my God," I hear the all too familiar voice on the other side of the door, and see the all too familiar face through the blinds and yes, it definitely could be.
Angel unlocks the door and opens it, raising an eyebrow when she sees the triumphant grin on my face. "I'm not even gonna ask," She says after a few seconds, and takes a couple steps back, so that I can walk in.
"Good," I reply, my dumb grin preventing me from coming off as anything other than an excited infant. "You should know the answer by now."
She shakes her head lightly, as she closes the door and checks if she's locked it too. "I do, I just try to ignore it."
"Ignore it?" I slowly repeat, and find myself rocking back and forth on my feet again, as I watch her walk behind the bar. "Why'd you ignore it?"
"For your own safety," She replies loudly and before I can ask what the hell that even means, she's opened one of the fridges. "Beer?"
"Of course," I smile, and start walking towards the barstools on the opposite side of her. "Why are you still here? And what's this?"
"Well, not like it's any of your business," She points out as she walks over to the bar again, sliding the green bottle toward me after she opens it. "But I like to stay here for a while after my shift ends. And this, was scotch with ice ten minutes ago. Now it's basically scotch with water."
A little smirk appears on my face, as she brings the glass to her lips. "Do you drink as often as you smoke?"
Angel looks up at the ceiling while taking a sip of her drink, as if thinking about the answer. "Nah," She shakes her head, "I do even more things that I end up regretting when I drink."
She grips the object in her hand with both hands, and just stares at it, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. "Did you know that alcohol is worse than weed? Like, it does more damage to your body. And I think it's more addictive too."
I look away from her, and nod. "Yeah, I think I read that somewhere."
"And it's funny how politicians still legalize alcohol," She continues, still staring at her glass of scotch, and I begin to wonder whether or not she's had more of it before I came. "I used to be mad interested in politics. Then I realized that I would never make it in that world, because my point of view on life and how things should be is far different from the one that world leaders have."
One part of me – the nerdy part of me – wants to have an actual conversation about this with her, and the other wants to tell her that it's probably time to go to bed. "Do you think about that stuff a lot?"
"What stuff?"
"I mean... life in general, and just... stuff."
Angel shrugs, and leaves the glass on the counter, but keeps looking at it. God, the things I'd do to see things from her point of view. "Only when I drink. It's just usual 2am thoughts."
After she takes another gulp, she looks right into my eyes, "I do, however, tend to think about it less when I'm around people. So thanks for being here, otherwise I'd be thinking about the point of existence right now, and probably over-thinking it."
I chuckle at her as she raises the scotch to her lips again, and I bring my bottle to mine; I feel like, the emptier her glass is, the more talkative and ridiculous she is. "It's my absolute pleasure. Feel free to call me whenever you feel like getting wasted."
"Don't get too excited," She tells me immediately, and I can see her lips forming one of her famous smirks. Here we go. "I don't have your number, nor do I ever, under any circumstances, get wasted, nor am I allowed to give you alcohol."
I narrow my eyes at her, "Why'd you give me this, then?" I refer to the bottle of beer as I raise it in the air, and, I've come to the conclusion that she's the only girl who's ever gonna make me need a cold shower just by biting her lip.
"Because I like you," She simply says, and I make a mental note to repeat those words of hers to myself, whenever I'm sad. "And I would absolutely take the risk of losing my job to have you as my drinking buddy."
"Really?"
"Of course not, this is the last time you're ever having a drink here," She says in a flat tone, and I'm unable to hold my laughter back as she raises her almost empty glass in my direction. "But for now, cheers."
"Cheers." I smile as I watch her down her drink; I can only hope that she was honest about the part where she told me she likes me. "Didn't think you'd want me as your drinking buddy, anyway."
"How so?"
"You just... don't look like someone who would want to drink with nerds," I bite back a smile, though her confused frown and slight pout are making it hard for me to contain my laughter.
"Do I look like I drink with prisoners or something?"
"In a way, yeah," I say through a laugh as I bring my bottle to my lips again, while she narrows her eyes at me in a glare. "But no, I mean... you look like you'd prefer the bad boy type."
Angel scowls, and shakes her head lightly; she's just so full of surprises tonight. "Bad boys," She mutters, "So overrated."
I raise my eyebrows; is this gonna be like when she said she'd risk her job so I could have a beer, because she really got me there. "Overrated? Seriously?"
"Well... yeah," She shrugs, like I should have expected that answer. "Just because I dress like one doesn't mean I like them."
"I'm pretty sure bad boys don't wear ten inch heels."
She lets out a small sigh, and grips the edge of the counter. Then she leans back a little, and I almost jump off my stool when she puts her leg on the counter, the impact causing a loud thud.
"I told you I only wear heels because of what I do on weekends," She tells me in a quiet, calm voice, as she pats her combat boot. Along with her skinny jeans and leather jackets, yes, I haven't noticed before, but she really does dress like a bad boy.
"Seriously, though. It's like everyone's forgotten about nerds," Angel continues, as she slides her leg off the surface. She picks up the empty glass again, and starts inspecting it, again. "They're so pure," She mumbles, "So innocent."
I blink a couple times at her, and scratch the back of my neck in slight awkwardness. "I'd say something funny if I wasn't so creeped out."
"No, don't listen to me," She mumbles, putting her face in her hands. "I get drunk easily, I don't know what I'm saying."
"One glass of scotch mixed with water got you drunk?"
"I... think so," She sighs. "Probably 'cause I don't drink that often, at all. Only on two occasions; when it's my birthday. And when it's not."
Then she bursts into a fit of giggles, which makes me wonder have I really found the person I've been looking for. "No, no, I've just wanted to say that all my life. I really don't drink at all."
"Well, you should," I joke with a wide smile; just the sight of her like this is making me smile. I feel like she's more real when she's intoxicated. "And, like I said before, I can totally be your drinking buddy if you ever decided to break the law again."
"I really don't need to get in trouble with the police." She narrows her eyes at me, and I'm wondering whether she's scared of the police or in enough trouble with them as it is. "But thanks for the offer. It's what friends are for, right?"
"Yeah... friends." I bring my bottle to my lips again, and avoid looking her in the eyes for a few moments. When I do though, I notice they're still slightly narrowed at me. Here we go, again.
"I have a feeling that you don't like us being friends," She says, her voice a pitch higher, and her lips pursed at the end of her sentence. I breathe out a laugh because, well, how oblivious could a person be?
"Angel," I begin, as I cross my arms on the counter and lean forward, my eyes glued to hers. "I really, really don't want to be your friend."
To think, when I met her, I told myself that I was okay with her being 23 because it's not like I'm gonna date her. Well now.
Then she giggles, again, running a hand through her hair. "Do you want to kiss my neck?"
"What?"
"What?"
A few seconds pass before I start laughing, my eyebrows raised at her as she stares back at me, her eyes wider than I've ever seen them before. She probably can't believe what she's said; and honestly, neither can I.
"Did you just ask me if I want to kiss your neck?" I ask slowly, partly because moments where I can embarrass her are so rare, I need to take every chance I can to do it.
"No," She frowns at me, like I'm crazy to let such a wild thought cross my mind.
"I'm pretty sure you just said-"
"It's a song!"
"What kind of a song has the words-"
"Falling For You," She interrupts me, extending the last word but not sounding as annoyed as I supposed she'd be. Must be the scotch. "By The 1975. 'I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck'."
Sounds like something I'd want to listen to right about now. "That... sounds like a nice song." I smile, "And just for the record, if that was an actual question-"
"Niall." She interrupts me, her tone serious, though her lips form a smile a couple seconds later. "Don't push your luck. I swear you've no idea what you're getting yourself into."
I watch her, amused, as she stands up and takes the empty glass to the sink, making sure to walk as slowly as she can. "Does it involve shooting and abduction?"
"Not yet." She looks at me over her shoulder, a small smirk on her face. "And it's up to you whether or not it's gonna stay that way."
"Am I playing my cards right so far?"
Angel snorts, as she walks to the other side of the room to take her jacket off of the hanger. "Not really," She says through a small sigh, walking toward me now. "I usually have to play them for you. You done with that?"
"Um," I look at my beer bottle, "No, there's still a little-"
Before I can finish my sentence though, she's picked up the bottle and is finishing the beer instead of me, while walking around the bar. "Alright," She starts as she lowers the bottle from her lips, and puts it in a crate. "This was fun, but let's go now."
"Do you want me to give you a ride home?" I ask, standing up from my barstool. When I look at her, she's got this wide grin spreading across her face – a lot like the one she had the first time I met her.
"Aw yes, I was hoping you'd stolen Sam's car again."
"It's Seth."
"Whatever," She smiles again and starts walking toward the door, and as I walk behind her, I can't help but wonder how Seth would react if he'd heard this.
"I didn't steal it," I speak up, while watching her lock and check the door. "He owed me."
"I think I'm scared to hear that story."
"Well," I begin with a grin, nevertheless. "Last time after I drove you home, I got stopped by the police and taken in custody, because Seth literally reported his car as stolen." As we get to his car, I unlock and open the door for Angel first. "And then he came to pick me up from the station and laughed the entire way home."
"Fair enough," She says, while I start the engine. "Do you need me to type my address into your phone or..?"
"Of course." I pull my phone out of my pocket, and hand it to her. I'm pretty sure she knows what to do by herself.
"Are you ever going to learn?" She mutters, and I smile because I don't think I was supposed to hear her.
"Never."
"Yeah, I thought so."
*******
"You sure you don't need me to carry you to your bed?" I ask again, turning my head to look down at Angel, while she still clings onto my arm. I swear, the longer it took us to get here, the more drunk she was.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Hell yeah."
"Then no." She pulls her arm away from mine as we make it to her floor, and proceeds to wrap it around my waist – and I'm not joking this time when I say that she should be drunk more often. She should definitely be drunk when she's with me.
I think that sounded better in my head. "Here we are. Where's your key?" I ask, but don't move my arm away from around her shoulders yet. She looks up at me, her blue eyes having an odd shine to them.
"I'm... not sure," She says, pulling away from me and slowly making a couple steps toward the wall next to her door, to lean on it. "You might have to look for it yourself."
I blink a couple times, nodding to myself as I walk over to her. "Of course I do," I sigh, and after thinking of where the fuck to start for a few seconds, I unzip one pocket of her leather jacket. Angel moves her hands behind her back, watching my face while I try to concentrate and not do something she would kick me in the balls for.
"Not here," I mumble to myself, moving to her other pocket. Then a thought crosses my mind – if she's drunk enough to let me do this, then she's surely drunk enough to let me do other things.
I look up at her face, and can't help forming a little smirk when I catch her looking at my lips. She quickly looks up into my eyes – just not quickly enough.
"Hi," Angel almost whispers, blinking at me a couple times – as if to compose herself – as I make a small step closer to her.
"Hi," I reply, just as quietly. "Do you have any inner pockets?"
"One way to find out."
I stick my tongue out to lick my lips, using that as a chance to lean closer to her. I avoid breaking eye contact with her as I slowly unzip her jacket, but I feel like I'm gonna have heart palpitations if she doesn't do something soon.
"No inner pockets," I mumble as I glance at her lips myself, and put my hands on either side her waist. When I, however, start to lean in, she puts her hand on my cheek, her thumb covering my lips. She must hate me.
"Check my jeans." A wide smile spreads across her face when I sigh, against her finger. She knows what she's doing and she's loving every second of it, I can feel her amusement radiating off of her.
"You're gonna be the death of me, woman." I try leaning in again, but her hand is firm against my face, and I don't want to force myself onto her. Mainly for my own safety.
With another small sigh, I make a trail from her waist down to her jeans, and that seems to wipe the smile off her face, but not her hand off my face too. I wonder how long it'd take her to break and just fucking kiss me, I mean, is that too much to ask for? I've gone from wanting to kiss her to hoping she'd let me kiss her, this is not what I signed up for.
Oh, who am I kidding. "Not there either," I mutter against her thumb, after feeling her front jean pockets. Then I hook my fingers in them and pull her closer to me, "Just tell me where you're hiding it, this is-"
"You still," She starts, pausing to grin while I sigh again. "Haven't checked my back pockets."
Well this is just absurd. "Look, if you wanna kill me, I heard shotguns are pretty good for that."
"I feel like this is more fun."
"It really isn't."
"It is from this side of the hallway."
I nod; of course that's what she's gonna say. "You sure? Because as of now, I'm not responsible for my actions."
"Don't worry, I'll make sure to let you know if you're doing something wrong."
And of course she will. "Alright, then." I give her a tight smile, and move my hands behind her back.
"Niall," She raises her eyebrows, "Those aren't my pockets."
"I'm just feeling."
"I know you are."
I breathe out a laugh, her thumb slightly more loose on my lips. "I mean I'm feeling for any bumps. That'd mean the key is there."
"Really, Einstein?"
"Yes." I reach into her left pocket, and pull out the object we've been so platonically searching for, and dangle it right next to her head. "Really."
"Well," She finally removes her hand from my face, but before I can react to it, she's taken the key from my hand and is walking toward the her door. "Thanks for finding it for me."
I nod, walking to her, even though her back is turned to me. "What do I get for it?"
"Absolutely nothing." She enters her apartment, and turns to face me, while I shake my head with a small smile.
"You can't do that."
"Watch me."
"I hate you."
"Bye."
And then I'm facing the white painted wood that is her door; I wasn't lying. I really, really, really hate her.
A couple seconds later though, I look down at my feet as I notice something move; a folded piece of paper. I pick it up with the stupidest grin I've probably ever had on my face, and I don't even need to open it to know what's written inside.
Just as I begin walking away, I hear the door open and look over my shoulder – and there she is. "Call me if you ever want to get fucked over like that again."
As she closes the door again, I can't help but think – I might just hate her a little less now.
*******
I always need entire lifetimes to come up with conversations like this omg (btw I was rereading this and I'm sorry if anyone got creeped out by some of the things Angel said, I swear she's not creepy at all)
Dedicated to @pxndaa because Angel's character is basically all about being realistic and I'm v v happy that people appreciate that :D
don't forget to vote and comment! x