* * *
Sam’s place was pretty nice for a guy. It was small and dated, but it was clean, and I wondered if that had more to do with Heven than Sam. The bed was made, the floors were clean, and the fridge was empty except for a few bottles of water. I stood in the center of the silent, darkened room and decided that maybe staying here wouldn’t be so bad. At least it was warm and private. I dropped the small bag I’d retrieved from the tree I liked to sleep in onto the sofa and unzipped it. I rifled through the contents of everything I owned and pulled out a long, navy, scoop-neck T-shirt and clean panties. Then I took a long, hot shower, appreciating the fact that this bathroom had good soap and shampoo (likely courtesy of Heven too) and it wasn’t a public place (like a gym) so no one else would be entering the room.
When I finished showering, I dressed in the T-shirt and quickly braided my damp hair in a single braid that hung down my back. I glanced over at the bed, knowing a few hours of sleep would be a good idea, but found myself wandering over to the chair where I’d hung my coat. I reached into the inside pocket and pulled out my phone, hitting a button and lighting up the screen. There were no missed calls.
I carried the phone over to the bed, pulling down the blankets and slipping in. I lay on my side, pulling my knees slightly up toward my chest and pillowing my head on one of my arms. A few taps on the screen of the phone and I had Cole’s voicemail pulled up. I sat there for a few minutes just staring at his name before playing the message I’d already heard.
His voice filled the tiny apartment. It was slightly tense and slightly angry, but I enjoyed hearing it all the same. It was over in seconds and I laid the phone next to me and watched it until the screen went dark and his name was out of sight. I closed my eyes and sighed. That old saying “out of sight, out of mind” wasn’t true because Cole was still very much on my mind.
I didn’t sleep long, waking in the room with only a hint of light from the window by the front door. I didn’t require much sleep and knew there was no use staying in bed, so I got up and stretched. When I bent down toward my toes, I almost expected my wings to fold around me and the softness of the feathers to tickle my skin. It caught me off guard, and a feeling of longing swept over me, but I quickly brushed it away. Even after all this time, I would occasionally forget—just for a second—that I had fallen and my beautiful wings were gone.
I blamed Cole. Seeing him last night had stirred up my feelings, brought what I tried to bury deepest closer to the surface. He affected me like no one ever before.
And I blamed Sam. All that talk about heaven and its beauty and peace, it made me remember where I came from.
I smiled. Blaming men made me feel a little better. My stomach rumbled and I figured since I was going to be staying here, I might as well get some groceries and supplies. It’d been a long time since I stayed anywhere that I could cook.
I stepped into a pair of jeans, tucked in the front part of my shirt, pulled on my boots, and zipped my coat around myself. Before leaving, I grabbed my phone and some cash out of my bag and closed the apartment door behind me. Instead of flashing myself to the nearest store, I decided to walk, enjoying the crisp morning air. A few blocks later, I came to a coffee house that I knew Heven often went to so I decided to grab a cup of coffee and a bagel before heading to the grocery store. I was about half a block away when the door to the place swung open, the strong aroma of coffee drifting out into the street, and I took a deep breath. It smelled so good.
But my enjoyment was short-lived because right after the scent came two people. Cole. And Kimber. I froze, not wanting them to see me but unable to move. Cole held the door until Kimber was completely out of the café. She had both her hands wrapped around a paper cup with a black lid. He let go of the door as she lifted the cup to her lips, taking a small sip. I heard her make a sound of appreciation and Cole’s lips pulled back into a smile. He said something to her, but I didn’t hear what it was, and she smiled. He was wearing dark jeans, a pair of brown boots, and a jacket with a number on it, a number I assumed was his for football.
The pair walked across the street where Cole’s truck was parked at the curb. He opened the driver’s side and Kimber climbed in, sliding all the way over, and then he jumped in and slammed the door behind him. I watched as he pulled away from the curb and drove off down the street. Someone bumped into me, but I barely heard their apology as I started moving again.
He seemed happy. His happiness should make me happy.
It didn’t.
* * *
I didn’t expect to hear the knock on the front door so when it sounded, I stood there for long moments, wondering what to do.
Answer the door, dummy, the voice in my head intoned.
I set down the knife I was using to chop vegetables and made the few steps to the door. The only person it could be was Sam, probably stopping by to see how I was liking his place. I swung the door open, smiling, and said, “You don’t have to knock, you know…” But my words dropped away when I saw it wasn’t Sam.
“Good, next time I’ll just let myself in,” Cole said, smiling.
“I thought you were Sam,” I said, gripping the handle a little tighter than I had to.
He nodded. “Does that mean I can’t come in?”
His hair was slightly damp and it was messier than usual, sticking up like he’d been running his hands through it. He was wearing the same jeans and coat from this morning, and he was clutching a set of keys in his hand. He didn’t wait for me to answer but slid past me and stepped in the apartment so there was nothing left for me to do but close the door behind us.
When I turned around he was stripping off his jacket to reveal a snug-fitting long-sleeved red T-shirt. I tried not to stare at the muscles in his back as he tossed the coat on the back of the couch.
“Are you cooking?” he said, looking into the tiny kitchen.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked.
“Sam told me at school today.”
Of course he did.
“I figured since you didn’t call me back I’d stop by,” he replied, going over to the kitchen to lift the lid of the pot on the stove. “I’m starving.”
I walked into the space and shooed him away from the pot to use my spoon to stir the pasta sauce. Then I grabbed a plate off the counter and heaped some spaghetti noodles on it, adding a healthy ladle of tomato sauce over top. Then I handed the plate and a fork to Cole.
“I wouldn’t want you to starve to death.” I couldn’t help but tease.