Page 28 of Snow Place Like LA
I wasn’t going to give him a chance to chicken out when it came to talking to me. I pulled down the metal ladder, squeaked when it indeed cooked the insides of my palms, and then stuck the fake roses in my teeth, determined to see this through.
“Luca!” Angel exclaimed, and then I heard the window opening above me, followed by the clatter of his shoes on the metal landing.
I whimpered as I climbed the rest of the way up. The theme for the summer definitely seemed to befuck Luca’s hands. And also the plastic stems of the roses didnottaste good.
But somehow I made it to the top of the ladder, only having to climb up one flight of steps to meet Angel, who was clambering down, concern all over his face.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” he asked, grabbing my hands and raising my palms to his lips.
The soft kiss felt so good on the stinging skin that I sighed—which meant the bouquet fell right out of my mouth and then tumbled onto the metal railing of the fire escape. It bounced on a nearby tree branch and then exploded into a shower of green plastic sticks and fake rose petals, raining down onto the half-dead bushes below.
“Well,” I said. “Shit.”
Angel laughed, sending warm air dancing across my palms. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m more of a hyacinth guy anyway. What are you doing here?”
Luca,do not fuck this up! This is yourfreeskatequadruple axel with gold on the line!
I took a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I panicked when you asked about Milan and said no as a reflex. And I’m sorry that every time you’ve been ready to be brave and open with me, you’ve been met with a brick wall. I think I could probably name seventeen different reasons why intimacy and love and commitment scare me, but I also know that I don’t want a single one of those reasons to be the thing that keeps me away from you. You’re the one person in the world that I am happy to be scared with, Angel Fletcher. I love you. And I don’t know if I’ll be ready to move with you when you go... but I want to be.”
Angel’s face softened even more. “Luca...”
“I love you,” I said again, moving my scalded hands so I could lace my fingers through his. He took a step backward, pulling me with him, so that the steep metal stairs going up to Sunny’s apartment were at his back. He pulled me into a tight embrace, burying his face in my neck.
“I love you too,” he mumbled into my skin. “And I’m sorry I needed time to think. I wasn’t trying to ghost you or break up with you; I was just so hurt that I wanted to make sure I was still making all the right choices. I’m happy to try long distance if that’s what you want. I’m happy to try anything. I don’t even have to take the job at all. Let’s just stay together. Please.”
I could feel his glasses dig in just below my jaw, and I almost wanted to cry. How was it possible to miss something as inconvenient as giant glasses always getting in the way? And yet I had. I’d missed everything about him, even after only two days. There was not a snowflake’s chance in LA that I’d make it for however long his new job would have him there. And he had to go to his new job. I wasn’t about to let him make his own dreams smaller just because chasing my own had become strangely terrifying over the last two years.
“You’re going,” I told him, pulling back so I could see his face. “And I’m going to do my damndest to go too. After all, if Prada won’t have me, then I’ll make sure Moschino or Versace will. And if not, then I’ll brood mysteriously at coffee bars until someone notices my genius and funds my own brand.”
“That’s the spirit,” Angel murmured, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “I’ll do whatever makes you happy, babe.”
“Whatever?”
“Whatever.”
“Then,” I said, leaning forward, “kiss me.”
His mouth crashed forward against mine, hot and hard, his tongue finding mine in a slick demand and stroking until my knees were weak. His hands dug into my hair and our legs tangled as I twisted my fingers into his blazer and held him close. He tasted like cinnamon gum and coffee and sunny mornings halfway around the world.
“I missed you, and I missedthis mouth,” he growled.
I gasped as he bent his head to nip at my neck. “I don’t think Sunny and the actors will be here for a while—”
Just then my phone rang. I nearly ignored it, except it was Sunny’s ringtone: The Fairy Godmother fromShrek 2singing “I Need a Hero.”
With a huff, I pulled my phone from my kilt pocket. Angel’s head fell back against a metal stair; an eager erection was currently pressed into my hip.
“I hate her,” Angel groaned. “I hate her, I hate her.”
I accepted the call and held the phone to my ear. “Yes?”
“Firstly, does this mean your grand gesture wasn’t grand enough? Because I thought you’d be skewered like a 1970s party appetizer by now, if you get my drift—”
“Ahem,” I said.
“Secondly,” she went on, undeterred, “I forgot to tell you the secret Bee and I have been keeping!”
“What secret?” And then I remembered the barbeque, and Bee’s promise to tell me a secret if I went. I made a wounded gasp. “This secret isso overdue, Sunny.”
