Broken Road (24 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Yu-Gesualdi

BOOK: Broken Road
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“W-what’s her name?” he asked.

“Angelise.”

“Pretty n-name,” he said and then added, “She l-looks l-l-like an angel.” He never took his eyes off the photo. Morgan rolled her eyes at his apparent display of infatuation and cleared her throat loudly to gain his attention.

“What should I d-do now?” he asked gravely.

“How badly do you want her?”

“B-badly,” he said, lowering his head to the ground for the first time since they began speaking.

“Good. I was hoping you would say that.” She turned away from him and smiled deeply. Then she quickly turned toward him again and said, “Let me take care of everything. I’ll just let you know what you need to do and when you need to do it, okay?”

“Okay. Um…thank you, M-m-morgan.”

“You’re welcome. This is going to be loads of fun for me.”

“Morgan?” he said, stopping her as she was beginning to walk away.

“Yes?”

“Why are you doing this f-for me?”

“I like you, Benjamin. I just want to see you happy, that’s all.”

“D-do you think you can…get some m-more pictures? P-please?”

This was going to be easier than she thought. He was like putty in her hands. “I’ll try my best,” she responded as she walked away feeling triumphant.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A
ngel and Ileana were in Angel’s dorm room studying while drinking frozen cappuccinos they had bought at the coffee house across the street.

“Has he kissed you yet?” asked Ileana, never lifting her head from the book she was reading.

“He’s tried. A couple of times,” Angel responded. “Switch,” she said, and without even looking at each other, they swapped drinks, Ile trading the vanilla-flavored beverage for Angel’s caramel.

“And you didn’t let him?” she asked, now looking up at her still-studious friend.

“No. I sort of turn my head and he gets my cheek a lot.”

“Girl, are you nuts? Why don’t you want him to kiss you?”

“I do want him to kiss me. I’m dying for him to kiss me.”

“You enjoy confusing me, don’t you?”

“I simply want to take it real slow. Don’t forget that phase one of our relationship didn’t exactly start off with a ticker-tape parade. He needs to earn my trust. If I let him know just how interested I am so early in the relationship, he won’t have to work at anything.”

“Hmm…I guess that makes sense in a demented, masochistic sort of way. Just don’t play too many games. That’s a sure way to lose a guy in record time.”

Angel smiled and winked at her, but quickly turned away in response to a knock on the door. She went over, opened it, and was informed by another female student that flowers had been delivered to her and that she needed to go downstairs to sign for them.

“Flowers. Let’s go,” cried out Ileana as they both raced out the door, tripping and practically knocking each other over in the process.

“They’re beautiful,” Angel said as she looked at the stunning bouquet of white roses intermingled with small bunches of baby’s breath within the flora. She inhaled deeply as the scent besieged her.

Ileana quickly reached for the card and opened the envelope. As she read the card, she said, “Oh my God. He’s so romantic. I’m dying of jealousy right now.” She grabbed Angel’s hand and pressed her fingers to the side of her neck and said, “See, no pulse. I’m dead.”

Laughing at Ileana’s crazy antics, she snatched the card out of her hand and jokingly asked, “You mind?” She read aloud in a hushed voice so no one other than her friend could hear, “Until I am able to hold you lovingly within my arms, I am but half a man—with only half a beating heart.”

Both girls sighed in unison. Angel cradled the bouquet in her arms as they both walked back to her dorm room.

“You look like Miss Universe holding the flowers like that,” Ileana said. “By the way, how did he know white roses are your favorite?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t tell him. I thought that maybe you had.” Angel was baffled. Both girls looked at each other in complete bewilderment.

When they arrived at her room, Angel’s roommate, Ava, was there. She looked up from her laptop as they walked in and said, “Hi! Wow! How beautiful!”

“Aren’t they?” Angel responded happily.

“Who are they from? Oh God, it’s not your birthday, is it?” Ava turned toward Ileana and said fretfully, “Please tell me it’s not her birthday.”

“It’s not her birthday,” said Ileana with a smile. “They’re from Jarrod. You’ve got to read the card. You have got to read the card. It’s unbelievable!” She yanked the card out of Angel’s hand and showed it to Ava.

Ava read it and provided the requisite “oohs” and “aahs” that were mandatory in a situation such as this. “Are you sure they’re from Jarrod? There’s no signature.”

“Of course they’re from him. Who else would send them?” Ileana responded.

“I’m sure,” said Angel. “They’re perfect, just like he is…although I can’t help but wonder how he knew white roses are my favorite.” She looked at Ileana, who just shrugged her shoulders.

Jarrod picked Angel up promptly at seven thirty that evening. They were planning on going to the movies to see the new thriller starring Johnny Depp. Angel rushed up to him and gave him a big hug and a quick peck on the cheek. He seemed pleasantly surprised and said, chuckling, “What was that for?” as he opened the car door for her.

“For being so sweet. And of course, for the flowers. They’re absolutely beautiful. Thank you so much. How did you know white roses are my favorite?”

Flowers? What flowers? He didn’t send any flowers, but based on her reaction, maybe he should have. Although he would love to take the credit for them, he knew better than to lie. He’d rather appear to be an inconsiderate, cheap bastard of a boyfriend than a lying one. He closed her door and walked around to his side of the car and got in.

Before starting the ignition, he said, “Angel…I…uh…I didn’t send any flowers.”

She seemed totally stunned and bemused.

“Really?…um…sorry.” She was now completely at a loss. “Well, if you didn’t send them, then…who did?”

“Good question. Was there a card?” he asked, not too happily.

She nodded. “You may not like what it says.”

“Try me,” he said, his words clipped.

She pulled the card out of her wallet and showed it to him. She was right. He did not like it.

He paused a moment and asked forlornly, “Angel, what’s going on here? Are you seeing someone else?”

“No!”

“Then who sent them to you?”

“I don’t know. I just assumed it was you.”

“Well, according to this card, there’s a man running around town with only half a heart beating,” he said angrily as he held the card out to her. She gingerly retrieved it and placed it back in her wallet. She looked up at him and watched as he stared straight ahead at nothing. She could tell he was upset by how tightly he was squeezing the steering wheel, and it was apparent he was struggling to gain control of his emotions.

They’d only been dating a short time, and it appeared that they were having their first argument. Strange, but she didn’t imagine their first argument being over someone else. It was supposed to be over which movie they would go see. Goes to show you, one can never truly rely on fantasies. They were just too unreliable.

“I swear I don’t know who sent them. I don’t have anyone’s heart—half or whole.”

“You have mine.” Although he said it angrily, she couldn’t help but smile inwardly. She didn’t say anything, because he seemed too upset at the moment, but she would remember it for later when she was alone and could escape into her fantasy world starring Jarrod Wentworth.

“I don’t like this,” he said. “I’d like to know who the hell sent them.” He wasn’t angry at her; he was jealous. Even though Angel wondered herself who might have sent them, she was secretly pleased to see him jealous. Good. It would do him good not to be too sure of her.

“Why don’t we just try to forget about it,” she said. “It’s no big deal…”

“It was a big deal when you thought I’d sent them.”

“Yeah…but…”

“Did you say this person sent you your favorite flowers? White roses?”

She had hoped he hadn’t picked up on that.
Make way for that anger again
, she thought.

“Yes,” she said.

“So this person must know you fairly well. Who do you know who would be privy to that kind of information?”

“My dad.”

“Angel, I’m serious.”

“Jarrod, I don’t know,” she said, frustrated. “That’s not something that comes up in everyday conversation. I don’t recall mentioning it to anyone recently.”

“I’ll stop by the florist shop tomorrow and see what kind of information I can get from them,” he said more to himself than to her.

“Can’t we just leave it alone?”

“I don’t feel comfortable with someone, an unknown someone, sending you flowers. What florist did he use?”

“Evie’s on University Avenue,” she said stoically. She was just as curious as he to know who had sent the flowers, but was incredibly uncomfortable having this conversation with him.

“Do you want to come with me tomorrow?”

“Sure. They probably won’t tell you anything unless I’m there anyway,” she said as she glanced down at her watch. If they didn’t hurry up, they would be late for the movie.

“That’s true. Make sure you bring some form of ID and that damn card. I’ll pick you up after your last class.”

“You have physical therapy tomorrow afternoon,” she reminded him.

“I can skip one session.”

“No, you can’t. I won’t let you. We’ll go after that, okay?”

“I’d rather not wait that long.”

“We either go after your session or we don’t go at all. I don’t want you missing any of your therapy treatments,” she said with finality.

“Fine,” he acceded.

“So, can we go see the movie now?” she asked brightly.

They went to the movies, but Jarrod wasn’t able to concentrate on what was happening on the screen. Angel noticed his preoccupation and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Stop thinking. Just enjoy the movie,” She placed her hand over his. He turned his hand over and interlocked his fingers with hers. They remained that way throughout the remainder of the film.

After the movie ended, they rode silently in Jarrod’s car while he drove. When they approached her dorm building, he parked the car and walked around to open her door. She stepped out, and they walked hand in hand toward the main entrance. When they arrived, he took both her hands in his, looked around to ascertain that they were alone, and leaned in closely.

“Angel, I want to kiss you,” he whispered.

She nodded her head and said, “I’d like that.”

He smiled and timidly asked, “You won’t turn your head this time?”

“Not this time.”

And so he gently pulled her closer and tilted her chin upwards toward him as he slowly bent his head and brought his lips closer to hers. He tenderly positioned his lips upon hers and then gradually pressed harder until she opened to him. His tongue lightly entered her mouth and found hers. They softly intertwined until a soft moan escaped from Angel’s throat. He deepened the kiss as their passion began to swell and pulled her tighter against him. He felt his breath quicken as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body so close to hers that a sheet of paper could not have been inserted between them.

His hand, splayed like an open fan, wove a slow and sensual path up and down her spine. He placed his other hand in the heavy mass of her hair, gently pushing it aside, and rained kisses along her neck until he reached the hollow behind her ear. She moaned again as if in pain, but the only pain she was feeling was that of pent-up desire. He took her mouth again and kissed her slow and easy, then hard and greedily. Suddenly she pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“What’s the matter?” he tenderly whispered as their foreheads gently pressed together.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” she said quietly as she tried to regulate her breathing.

“Then why did you pull away?”

“It was too nice. I was enjoying it too much.”

“We’re supposed to enjoy it,” he said as he lavished soft kisses upon her cheeks, making their way to her still-closed eyes.

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