Nine
1244 Words
ANGELA’S POV
Your debt has been paid.
The words still echoed in my head with brutal finality.
Hanzo’s cold silver eyes remained burned into my memory. Even in my dreams I saw them looking down at me, felt the weight of his hands, the press of his mouth.
Nearly a week had passed, yet I still couldn’t escape him. That man had taken up permanent residence in my mind.
“Are you listening?”
Fred’s slightly worried face came into focus when I finally lifted my gaze from the coffee cup I had been gripping too tightly.
“Yeah. I’m sorry,” I managed a weak smile. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
Even here, on what should have been a normal date, I couldn’t lock Hanzo out.
“Is it about the competition? You have nothing to worry about. You’re an amazing dancer.” Fred’s smile was warm and genuine.
He reached across the table and gently took my hand.
“I actually can’t wait to perform with you.” His voice was soft, lightly flirty.
The light-haired boy sitting across from me was nothing like Hanzo. He was open and kind, the kind of person who made the world feel safer.
A real smile touched my lips.
“Me too. Though I still need to practice that lift. I keep losing my balance.”
“We can practice it. My room has enough space…” He paused, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I really did just mean the routine. God, I’m such an i***t. How badly did I mess that up?”
A quiet laugh slipped out of me.
“You didn’t. Actually, I think it’s a good idea.”
Relief washed over his face.
“Sometimes I get a little dumb around beautiful girls.” He chuckled. “Do you want to come over and practice then? My house isn’t far.”
“Why not,” I said, cheeks warming at the compliment.
Fred was a natural charmer. He never let silence settle between us. Soft laughter and easy conversation followed us out of the coffee shop.
He was the perfect gentleman—walking on the street side, holding my hand carefully, even offering his denim jacket when the evening chill made me shiver.
There was no woman in this world that wouldn't want a boyfriend like him. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt almost normal. Maybe I really could leave those awful nights behind.
“Welcome to my humble home,” Fred announced as he unlocked the door of a two-story house.
It wasn’t a mansion, but it was clearly one of the nicer homes in the neighborhood—large windows, open rooms, carefully chosen details.
“Want something to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
I lingered in the doorway longer than I should have. Outside I had felt relaxed. Inside, a sudden tightness gripped my chest for no clear reason.
Why the hell was i hesitating to enter past hallway?
“Come on, don’t just stand there. Treat this place like your own. My parents are on vacation, so it’s just us.” His voice dropped slightly.
For a second his expression turned serious before the easy smile returned.
“You don’t have any reason to feel nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” I lied. “I’m just not used to being in someone else’s house.”
“Ouch. We’re not strangers.”
“That’s not what I meant..”
Fred chuckled.
“I get it. I’d probably feel the same. Totally normal. My room’s upstairs.”
I scolded myself silently.
Get a grip. Nothing is going to happen. Stop acting like this.
Finally I stepped inside and followed him up the curved staircase.
The house was beautifully put together—his mother was an interior designer, he had told me earlier. It showed in every carefully chosen color and arrangement.
“It’s a beautiful house,” I said. “I used to want to be a designer. Never really had the talent for it, though.”
“Odd. I think you’d be great at it.” Fred glanced back over his shoulder. “You give the impression of being good at everything.”
“That’s so not true. I’m bad at so many things it should be illegal.”
“For example?”
“Parking in reverse.”
“Is anyone actually good at that?” He gave me a lopsided grin as he closed the bedroom door behind us.
His room was surprisingly tidy for a college guy, almost as if he had cleaned it on purpose.
Fred quickly filled the space with the familiar beats of our competition routine and pushed an armchair aside to create more room.
“Ready?”
I nodded and dropped my bag onto his bed.
My body moved into the choreography almost on its own. Agile steps carried me toward him. His hands settled lightly on my waist, guiding me through the counts. In one smooth motion he spun me and lifted me above his head. He wasn’t heavily built, but he was strong enough.
I found my balance, and for a moment everything else disappeared. This was nothing like the club. This was pure dance–clean, focused, mine.
When my feet touched the floor again I was already moving into the next sequence, bodies close. Then Fred’s grip on my sides tightened more than the choreography required.
I stopped.
He was no longer dancing. He was simply looking at me.
My heart flipped..
"Fred…"
Without a word he leaned in and pressed a soft, butterfly-light kiss against my lips.
This was everything I had daydreamed about for months. And yet…
“What the hell.” I pushed back hard, creating distance between us.
Fred looked stunned, slightly out of breath.
“I—I’m sorry. I thought you wanted that. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
His apology barely registered. Anxiety crashed over me in sudden, overwhelming waves.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m leaving.”
“Angel, wait..”
“Don’t call me that!”
The sharpness in my voice clearly shocked him as he haven't seen me snap like this before. He stood frozen in the middle of the room while the music continued to play.
"I’m sorry! I didn't know I was doing something wrong! Please wait! I promise I won't do anything….”
I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. I grabbed my bag and ran, the door slamming hard behind me.
My heart pounded like a war drum.
I didn't dare to slow down the jog until the building was completely out of sight. Only then did i fall back into a normal pace, heavy breaths burning my lungs.
Angel.
Why had he used that name?
Hearing it from the boy I actually liked felt wrong on a level I couldn’t explain.
He had promised we would only practice. But for men, that never seemed to be enough.
“I’m such a fool,” I muttered, pushing my hair back in frustration.
Evening had already darkened the sky. The streets were nearly empty.
In my hurry I hadn’t paid attention to how quiet the neighborhood had become, or to the footsteps that had fallen into rhythm with mine.
“Angel.”
The low, rough voice came from directly behind me.
- Writer
