Chapter 44
Angel shifted in the hard seat of the library chair.
He still wasn’t sure how he ended up with Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood ‘ in his hands but he knew that Cordelia had something to do with it. She had mumbled that he had to read something from the 20th century as she raised an elegant eyebrow and shoved the book in his hand.
He glanced again at the page. It wasn’t actually bad but the dynamics of four southern women’s friendship really didn’t do much for him. He’d rather look at Cordelia.
He kept the book raised, but eyed her over the pages. She had settled behind a computer once she pointed him to the library’s phone to call Miss Twittle, telling him that she would be okay with a landline as long as he reassured her that no one was near by and listening.
Angel was still confused at Cordy’s instructions even though it seemed she had been right.
Then Cordelia had given him the book. Now she was chewing on a strand of her hair as she huddled over the library’s computer. Her fingers were awkwardly pecking at the keyboard and kept glancing at the Jane Austen book then back to computer screen.
He closed his book and got up, moving quietly until he was right behind her. “So, how is it going?” he said softly, breathing in the fragrance of her hair.
“Personal bubble.” She jerked around in her chair. “You’re supposed to be over there,” she said, pointing to his empty chair, “reading.”
Angel shrugged. “Can’t I see how you’re doing? Embarrassed by your work?”
“No,” she shot over her shoulder as her eyes went back to the computer screen.
Angel leaned in closer. Her smell made him want to taste. He lifted his eyes from her neck and scanned the essay on the screen.
“Cordy, this is good.” Angel wasn’t exactly surprised, he knew that Cordelia wasn’t dumb, he just hadn’t realized that Cordy would put so much energy into schoolwork.
He leaned in closer and covered her hand, using her fingers on the mouse to scroll up to the beginning. Then he read her essay from the first paragraph.
Cordelia had managed to explore both the societal mores of the 18th century and the love story of Elizabeth and Darcy, intelligently and with humor. He was impressed and he told her so.
“Don’t sound so surprised that I have a brain,” she said, tilting her head back to look up at him.
Angel smiled down at her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Yeah. It works and everything.”
His smile got wider as she pursed her lips together and blew out a disgusted sound at him.
“What?”
“I just hope that Mr. Edwards likes it. Detention sucks.” She clicked “print” then went over to the printer. “Geez, this thing is slow,” she mumbled as each page came out at a snail’s pace.
“So you’re done? We can go?”
Cordelia turned back to him. “Did you read any of it?” She asked, pointing to the popular book Angel had discarded.
“Yeah.” He shifted. “It was okay, just….”
“Too girly for a macho vamp?”
Angel looked at his shifting feet then glanced up at Cordelia. “Yeah.”
“Oh, well, getting in touch with your feminne side shouldn’t be embarrassing. Sorry, you thought so,” she shrugged.
Angel really didn’t like the patronizing way she looked at him. “I –“
Cordelia placed her hands over his chest. “It’s okay, Angel. You’re a guy, a dead guy, but still a guy — I shouldn’t have expected more.” She pulled her hands away as she gave him a sad smile that made him feel like he was two years old.
He shifted his feet again in embarrassment. Then he looked into her twinkling eyes. He shook his head as he realized that she was teasing him.
If she had been at his side when he was soulless the world would have been at their feet.
Chapter 45
Cordelia rolled her shoulders and then plopped down on the stone bench centered in the atrium of the mansion. She patted the space next to her beckoning Angel to sit beside her in the shade.
“Cordy?” Angel slid in next to her, safe under a shelf of entangled wisteria.
Cordelia sighed, twined her hands together and rested them on her knees. She took another deep breath and then looked up at Angel. “Peanut butter is more than fine with me. Omelets, and French toast, way great, too.” She cocked her head and coughed uncomfortably. “I just think that Miss Twittle will expect more.”
“She may want a showing of the four food groups?” Angel tangled his fingers with hers. “Don’t worry,” he said, looking up as the late afternoon sun edged closer to the horizon. “We’ll go shopping for the right stuff this evening.”
Cordelia chewed on her bottom lip. “Angel, I know I said it was your idea, but I can’t expect you to “really” entertain Miss Twittle. Sure, a lot of this is your fault, but still, you’re going above and beyond. I can fix this. I’ll just tell her that Damien was caught — maybe in Mexico. Then neither of you has to worry about me any more. I can’t leave just yet, though,” she said apologetically as she shrugged. “I have to wait for my car to get fixed. Sorry,” she said tensing at Angel’s hard stare and tightening grip on her hand.
“Um, Angel?” she said, trying to pull her hand away again.
Angel’s dark gaze softened at her movement. “I’m sorry,” he said gently as he tilted his head towards hers. He raised her hand and brushed their entwined knuckles against his lips.
“It will be all right,” he whispered. He brushed her hair off her face, letting his fingers enjoy the silky texture. “You worry too much.” He stood and pulled her up with him.
“Angel?”
“Shh, it’s okay.” Angel leaned in closer, his lips only inches away from Cordelia’s, his hands inching down her body to find her waist.
Cordelia gasped and jerked away. “I… I…need to go proof my paper again.”
“Of course.” Angel stepped away, crossing his arms against his chest. “I’ll make you some lunch.”
“Um, sure.” Cordelia ran into the mansion and up the stairs.
Chapter 46
Cordelia flopped on the bed, drawing her knees close to her chest. She chewed her bottom lip and rocked on the mattress.
Angel had been about to kiss her. Every instinct in her body screamed that fact no matter what her mind’s rationalizations yelled.
Her life may suck but she was still Cordelia Chase and her body’s reaction beat down the overwhelming voices in her head. The one thing she knew with a surety, no matter how fucked things had become, was when a member of the opposite sex found her attractive.
Cordelia knew that she was pretty; too many people had told her for it to be false. She didn’t see it, not really. When she looked in the mirror she just saw a girl with brown hair and brown eyes that with the right outfit looked pretty darn good. But that didn’t mean much, the right outfit could do wonders for anyone.
But even knowing what too many people had said, she also knew that Angel hadn’t been impressed by her looks. Between her and Buffy, Angel’s attention had been always focused on the blonde.
Except just then, down in the garden Cordelia had felt that she was the one he wanted but she didn’t feel like gloating. Rather she felt more nervous than she had since she started losing control of her life.
***
Angel followed Cordelia into the house more slowly.
Sitting on the garden bench, feeling the smooth skin of her hand and the warm flesh in his grasp, he knew he had to have more. Her running away only made her a challenge and made touching her a necessity.
Angel knew where she was and if she actually tried to escape from the mansion, he knew he could find her. Cordelia’s scent was imprinted on every cell in his body.
He would take this slowly. He would much rather have Cordelia squirming under him. Unless she refused. Then he’d take her any way he could get her.
Chapter 47
Cordelia willed herself off the bed and went to her purse on the dresser. She pulled two envelopes from the leather bag and fingered the first – the bold “Food” written in marker had already been crossed out and replaced with “Angel.” She looked inside it and pulled out a second envelope that had the label “Motel” scratched out and replaced with “Angel.”
Then she picked up a third envelope on the dresser – “MSC” was scrawled on its white surface. She counted the bills inside and shook her head, then shoved them back and grabbed her pen, crossing out “MSC” and writing “Tires.” She looked at it for a minute and then marked out “Tires” and replaced it with “Angel.”
Cordelia stepped back and looked at the marked-up envelopes.
Then she slumped back on the bed.
She owed Angel so much. But she couldn’t feel grateful, not after what just happened. Just because she owed him, didn’t mean she would let him kiss her. She hugged her knees tight to her chest. So, he was hot and really nice when he wasn’t acting weird.
And maybe she wouldn’t have minded kissing him if things were different, but they weren’t and she just felt like her life was slipping more out of her control. She couldn’t help but think of Sandy and what she had been forced to become in order to survive.
Shaking her head, Cordelia clutched her knees tighter. She didn’t believe that Angel was a Bruno or any other dreg of the male cesspool that Sandy had been forced to entertain, but Angel was still a man.
Cordelia was confident in her instincts that signaled when a guy was attracted to her but she wasn’t so confident about the why of it all–not anymore. And then there was the very real possibility that her own attraction to Angel blinded her to reality or common sense.
Xander was the best example of her inability to distinguish between instinct, feeling, and truth. On a good day, she might admit that Xander had cared for her–that the hurt that he caused was truly unintentional.
However, Cordelia couldn’t help but remember that hurt or how his feelings for her, no matter how real, had been strangled by his obsession with Buffy and Willow. She should’ve known. She shouldn’t have let herself get sucked into falling in love with Xander and accepting third place in his attentions.
So, now she was stuck doubting Angel and his actions. Did he suddenly find her attractive? Did he suddenly realize that he liked non-petite brunettes with zilch super strength – rather than a tiny blonde powerhouse with the ability to knock down buildings and kill bad guys?
That would be nice, yet, after Xander, Cordelia thought she should listen to her common sense. There was no way that the Buffy-obsessed Angel that she knew would switch obsessions in a couple of days.
So why did he try to kiss her?
Cordelia’s hair swiped against her neck and back as she jerked her shoulders up in a shrug. She couldn’t figure it out and honestly it didn’t matter. She would only kiss someone when she wanted to. It would be her choice and it would be free of any feelings of fear or obligation. She’d leave, even if that meant leaving her car, before she’d let that happen.
Cordelia closed the bedroom door behind her. She would just explain the reality to Angel. And leave no room for misunderstandings.
Chapter 48
Angel stared at the bedroom door. It didn’t block what he knew was behind it. He could imagine Cordelia’s beauty, smell her intoxicating scent, and hear her rapid heartbeat.
That scent–it only validated his decision to go slowly. He would overcome her nervousness. But he would do it soon, because slowly didn’t mean forever.
He tried to look nonchalant as he heard Cordelia walk toward the door.
She swung it open and her sudden gasp drew his eyes to her lips.
“Why do you keep sneaking up on me?”
Angel narrowed his eyes, still focused on her mobile mouth. “I can’t come into my bedroom and now I can’t stand in my hall. Where can I be?” He tried to make it a joke, but when he raised his eyes he could see he’d frightened her. Like her mouth, it was more than a little bit arousing.
“That’s not what – Errgh.” Cordelia took a deep breath, her disgust at her embarrassment apparent. “You startled me that’s all. I thought you were downstairs making lunch. That’s what you said you were going to do.” She recovered enough to shoot him a daring look.
” I can hardly imagine you want to eat cold grilled cheese.”
Cordelia turned her bottom lip into a chew toy. You’re going to make a grilled cheese sandwich —- for me?”
Angel shrugged. “I thought you might want something other than French toast or omelets.”
Cordelia’s smile bloomed like the ever-resilient daffodils in his garden. “I love grilled cheese.” Angel nodded, turning to follow her.
The Cordelia Chase that he was getting to know was still an enigma, but one thing he was sure of: Promise her food and she would come.
Cordelia plopped down on the stool in front of the kitchen island and stared at Angel’s back. She chewed on her lip harder, her earlier resolve to bring up the “almost” kiss waning. What if she really had imagined it? Angel wasn’t acting like an almost just-kissed guy that was for sure.
All he seemed to be interested in was food. She bit back a groan. When she had thought he wanted to kiss her she’d gotten nervous. But now that he was showing no signs of being attracted to her she wanted him to kiss her.
Cordelia took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax. She was being an idiot. Angel was being nice in his weird way, that’s all
“What do you think?” Angel asked, placing a perfectly golden grilled cheese sandwich in front of her.
She glanced up, and from his expectant look, realized she’d missed what Angel had been saying. “About what?”
“Do you think spaghetti would be all right for Miss Twittle?” He sat on the stool across from her.
Cordelia nodded. “Sure. We’ve already got all the stuff, so we don’t even have to go shopping.” Cordelia frowned when Angel shook his head. “But you got spaghetti sauce and noodles at the drug store.”
“That was canned sauce.”
“So?”
“I think Miss Twittle would rather have sauce with some consistency and taste–and meatballs.”
“And you know how to do that?” Cordelia raised a disbelieving brow at Angel. Her eyes widened at his nod. “Now you want me to believe you can cook spaghetti sauce.”
“I told you—”
“That you’re old and know stuff–yeah, but seriously how come?”
Angel stared at her for so long that Cordelia self-consciously dragged a paper towel across her mouth, just in case she had cheese on her face. “Well?” she asked.
Finally he answered. “There was a time in the sixties that I worked at a diner. They had a weekly spaghetti and meatball dinner special.”
“You worked at a diner?” Cordelia pushed her plate aside so she could rest her elbows on the bar and stared wide-eyed at him over her entwined fingers. “I thought you were Mr. Reclusive in the sixties.”
Cordelia frowned. “Actually, you’re still pretty recluse but I thought before you were way reclusive –as in hanging-out-in-the-sewer-type reclusive. I could’ve sworn that’s what Buffy said.”
Angel stood, picked up her plate, and went to the sink.
Cordelia wanted to kick herself for bringing up Buffy.
Still not answering, Angel placed the plate on the counter and took the frying pan off the stove. He slowly submerged the pan into the sink’s soapy water and started washing it.
Cordelia waited, body tense, to see what he’d say.
He dried the pan and set it back on the stove, then turned and leaned against the counter. “I didn’t hide from people when I first got my soul, I just didn’t go out of my way to actively mingle.”
“Buffy said–” Cordelia stopped. Damit, she’d said her name again.
” Buffy simply repeated what I told her. I just didn’t tell her about every year, every decade, every century that I lived prior to coming to Sunnydale. It wasn’t relevant to why I came. And when I did come I had been living in the sewers hiding.”
Cordelia tilted her head at him. “Tell me, was it really because it wasn’t relevant or because mentioning your stint as a short-order cook would make you less ‘tragic and mysterious’?” She quoted the last phrase, and then shot him a grin.
Instead of laughing, his stare hardened. Her grin faded; maybe she had gone to far.
But then Angel laughed, a surprised sound. “Maybe both. Come on,” he said, stepping away from the counter. “I’ll tell you about my short-order cook days while we shop.” Angel held out his hand.
Cordelia’s gaze wavered from his hand to his face. “What about you? Have you had your lunch?”
“While you were upstairs.” Angel said.
Cordelia took his hand. “You know, you can eat–or drink. Whatever. You can do it in front of me,” she reassured him. “Even if it is kind of gross.”
” I’ll remember that.”
She smiled as he pulled her to her feet, and then said, “Wait, I need to run upstairs for a minute.”