Chapter Three

Early the next day, Shawn hurried over to Cory as he stood by the coffee maker in the senior corner. Hearing the familiar tread of heavy biker boots on the hallway floor made him look up as Shawn rounded the corner. The loose grey shirt he wore flew away from his body, revealing a black cotton tee that contrasted with the dark blue baggy jeans that hung low on his hips. Cory assumed that he’d already been to his locker where he’d left his leather jacket and back pack. He was carrying a book and a single notebook which he tossed down onto the coffee table as he strode over to his friend. He looked harried and like he hadn’t slept well. Mauve shadows marred the pale skin under his eyes.

Cory’s smile faded. “Shawnie, what’s the matter?”

“Have you seen Topanga this morning?” he asked straightaway. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and gazed at Cory anxiously.

Cory shook his head. “No. Why?”

Chagrined, he turned his head away for a brief moment. “I was hoping Angela was with her.” He sounded frustrated.

“Didn’t you get everything straightened out last night?” He picked up the coffee pot and filled two cups of coffee.

“No. If Angela was home, she wouldn’t answer her phone.” He took the warm cup that Cory held out to him. “And she didn’t return any of my messages,” Shawn replied, turning around and heading for the old sea green couch. He flopped down, and Cory took a seat next to him. “I just can’t believe how bad everything has gotten between Angela and me. We were so happy just two days ago.” He hung his head, his attitude glum.

“I know, Shawnie. Boy, you know that I know how quickly a situation can go south,” he said, commiserating with his hurting friend.

Shawn reared back on the couch wearily and an unexpected yawn split his face. “I stopped calling just before eleven o’clock,” he explained, rubbing his tired eyes. ‘I didn’t want to get her Dad mad at me.” One corner of his mouth lifted cynically. “I’m not sure he even likes me as it is.” He thought about Angela’s stern military father with a bit of apprehension. Unlike him and his Dad, Angela was close to her often absent father. He wasn’t altogether certain that his failure to meet her father after going out for three months solid didn’t have its roots in his being white. He sighed and put that problem aside for the moment, returning to the more pressing matter at hand. He turned his head and met Cory’s attentive gaze. “I had to have left like a hundred messages, Cor. There’s no way she didn’t get one of them.” Then in an effort to look on the bright side, he added with a hopeful note in his voice, “I guess she could have been over at Topanga’s house commiserating. That’s as good an explanation as any,” he said to himself, and actually began to feel a little better. “I mean, there’s no reason for her to ignore my calls.”

Cory hadn’t been listening to him. He’d been pondering the workings of the answering machine. He finally thought he had the solution.

“No machine can store that many messages,” Cory announced pragmatically. “The queue would fill up and reject the new ones well before that. So that would mean she was either listening to them as you left them or…” He glanced away from Shawn.

Shawn turned his head to look at him. “Or what?” He heard himself asking. When Cory hesitated, he pressed him for an answer. “Well?”

“Or she just erased a bunch of them at certain intervals without listening to them,” he pointed out reluctantly, looking down at his hands, “which would explain the machine recording the newer ones. She would erase those after a certain time, too.”

Shawn stared at him balefully and then threw up his hands. “Oh well, that’s great. And here I was actually feeling a little better. You really know how to cheer a guy up, Cor,” he flung at him sarcastically. "Next time. Don't help me."

Cory hastily tried to regain lost ground and make amends for his plain speaking.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” In spite of his chirper tone, Cory was beginning to get a little worried about Shawn. Although Shawn had admitted to his feelings yesterday, Cory hadn’t quite realized its import. He’d never seen him this worked up over a girl before. This was indeed a new side of Shawn: a guy who was in genuinely in love with someone. Everything had better work out between him and Angela, he mused, as he watched Shawn absently sip his coffee and periodically run his hand through his hair as was his habit.

Hiding his concern under façade of cheerfulness, Cory added with false note of cheerfulness, “You’ll see her this morning for sure when we have class. Just remember: Nothing’s happened that can’t be fixed.” He winked at Shawn confidently.

“Yeah, nothing that can’t be fixed,” Shawn repeated tonelessly, scratching his ear. “Except the fact that I’m an idiot screw up. I wish that could be fixed.”

Just as Cory was going to voice his disagreement with Shawn’s harsh assessment of himself, the bell rang and both of them got up to go off to their individual classes.

Shawn spent the better part of the morning in between classes lurking in the hallway keeping an eye out for Angela. Since he and Angela had several of their classes on the same floor, he dawdled as long as he could until the final bells sounded, just making it into those classes on time by the skin of his teeth.

By the time second lunch period had rolled around, Shawn was a bundle of nerves. He and Cory met up in the cafeteria at the lunch counter. After selecting what they wanted to eat, they made their way over to their usual table at the far side of the large room. He saw Topanga on the other side sitting with three girls that were vaguely familiar. Angela was nowhere in sight. Still, hoping to find out where Angela was and what was going on with her, he hurried over and stood by her side, waiting until she finished up with what she was saying before interrupting her lunch.

Topanga felt the presence of someone standing next to her. However, if that hadn’t been tip off enough, the sudden appearance of coy smiles on the faces of the three girls—two blondes and one chestnut haired brunette—sitting with her and the complete loss of their attention would have been sufficient. Her voice drifted off, and the turning of her head coincided with Shawn speaking.

“Topanga, have you seen Angela today?” he asked urgently, totally oblivious to the admiring looks, dazzling smiles and flirty hair flips being directed at him. “Is she sick or something? I haven’t seen her all day.”

Topanga’s blue eyes regarded him long enough for him to gather that she knew about the most recent developments in her friends’ relationship: namely Angela’s dumping him because of Dana Pruitt. In her loyalty to her best friend and fellow female, she exuded a quiet hostility.

Gradually, Shawn became of aware of the interested gazes of the other girls at the table. Misinterpreting them completely, he plunged ahead, deciding that he didn’t have the luxury of pride.

“Come on, Topanga,” he asked imploringly. “I-It’s not what you think. You know me.”

Topanga gazed at him a moment longer and then relented. He saw the tension leave her body and sent up a silent thank you for what seemed to him like providential intercession.

“Angela had a doctor’s appointment this morning, Shawn. She should be here by fifth period though .” She glanced around the table and got up. Grabbing hold of his arm, she moved a little ways away from the spectators.

Shawn had been relieved to learn that Angela’s absence was unrelated to anything of a serious nature. And not only was she okay, but he would see her today and get this thing straightened out. The last two days had been bad enough what with Cory and Topanga on the outs—the couple upon whom he’d first modeled his relationship with Angela—but for both couples to be on the brink of extinction simultaneously was proving to be too much for his poor, inexperienced heart to take.

“Now,” Topanga began, crossing her arms over her ample chest, “what is going on with you, Shawn? Even though I told Angela that I didn’t believe you were that stupid, I need to hear from you that you aren’t really going to throw away your relationship with her to take up with Dana Pruitt again!” She glared at him suspiciously on behalf of her absent friend. “And if you are, let me remind you that she couldn’t hold you the first time, so what would make you think this time will be different?” Shawn opened his mouth to reply, but she hadn’t finished with him. “Do you have any idea how many guys would love to be in your shoes? We can't go anywhere without guys coming up to hit on her,” she said caustically. “Why is it you men always think that there’s something better—”

“Topanga! Would you let me get a word in?” Shawn grabbed her shoulders. “Look at me.” He stared into her eyes intently. “I promise I’m not interested in Dana,” he swore quietly, his voice firm. “She means absolutely nothing to me. Angela completely misunderstood. I love her.” He hadn’t intended on Angela’s best friend hearing that declaration before she did, but it slipped out, and thankfully, worked in his favor. Topanga’s wrathful expression cleared miraculously. “And believe me, I’m well aware of the number of guys that would kill me for a chance be with Angela.” That last statement had a conspicuously disgruntled quality to it. Shawn had seen firsthand guys sidling up to Angela right in front of him when they had first begun dating in earnest, unknowingly risking a beat down from the white boy they were so grossly underestimating. The blatant disrespect had stopped, or so Angela believed, once it had become known that he was more than just another of her “temporary, two week boyfriends”. Shawn more correctly attributed it to word having gotten around that Angela’s white boyfriend could more than handle himself in a fight.

Presently, as Topanga gazed searched Shawn’s face, there was no doubting the sincerity she saw in the deep set blue eyes, and his voice had held a note of conviction that she couldn’t discount.

“Well, if that’s true,” she conceded grudgingly, poking him in the chest with one pointed fingernail, “you better make sure that you clear this thing up fast, Shawn. Remember, you’re the one who initially wanted a real relationship. If she thinks about it too long, I’m not sure that Angela will want to risk it again after this—this craziness with your ex-girlfriends.” She looked at him through eyes narrowed with exasperation. “Especially after the way you reacted.”

Shawn involuntarily clutched her shoulders even harder. He dipped his head to look into her face. “Why? I mean, has she said something to you about not wanting a relationship anymore?” he asked with such anxiousness in his voice that Topanga unconsciously unbent even more towards him. Her stern expression softened, and she placed her hands over his, gently removing their vise-like grip.

A rueful smiled curved her lips. “She hasn’t come right out and said that, no,” she admitted, “but take it from me; the longer you let this misunderstanding fester, the more risk there is of it not working out between you guys.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she was thinking about Cory and their Lauren problem.

Shawn shook her arm to get her mind back to his dilemma with Angela. “So then—Angela should be here for Feeny’s class?”

She nodded. “As far as I know, she should.”

Shawn thanked her and when he turned around to go, he saw Cory watching. He swiftly spun around.

“Oh, and Topanga?”

She stopped and gazed at him, her brown brows raised in inquiry.

“Could you just promise me that you’ll think about forgiving, Cory?” he asked tentatively. He saw a shadow of sadness cross over her face, but he was encouraged when she didn’t stop him, and added with a bit more boldness, “I-I was a little hard on him about the whole Lauren thing, too. But I realize now how easy it is to make a mistake and hurt someone you care about without intending to.”

Topanga didn’t respond, and with a look of resignation on his face, Shawn walked away, allowing her to get back to her interrupted lunch. From several different locations around the room, numerous sets of feminine eyes followed his rolling, masculine gait as he strode across the floor to his and Cory’s table. As he sat down, Cory leaned forward eagerly.

“How’s Topanga?” The chestnut brown eyes regarded him anxiously. “Did you two talk about me?” He waited for the answer with baited breath, desirous of receiving even the tiniest crumbs of information concerning his estranged girlfriend.

Shawn hesitated. He didn’t want to completely dash Cory’s hopes for reconciliation between him and Topanga, and decided not to tell him about her noncommittal response to his last minute plea. So assuming a somewhat shamefaced facade, he glanced at his friend but then lowered his head, and picked up his fork. “No man. I’m sorry. I was so worried about Angela, and what was going on with her, that I didn’t think to ask her about you two.” He shot Cory a look of apology before lifting a fork full of meat loaf to his mouth.

Cory sank back in his chair. “That’s okay. Most likely nothing’s changed.” Still, even as he said it, he gazed at Shawn for confirmation.

Shawn shrugged. Cory sighed and inwardly wished Shawn better luck.

Shawn informed Cory of what Topanga had told him about Angela, after which both guys, preoccupied with their own thoughts, finished off what they could eat of their lunches before heading off to their lockers to prepare for their next classes.

As Shawn pulled the thin metal door open wide. It clanged gently as it hit against the front of the one next to it. He had plenty of time before his next class, but he wanted a head start. He was going to wait by Angela’s next class before heading to his own. He knew that he could wait to see her before Feeny’s class in sixth period, but he wanted her to know that he cared enough to make the extra effort.

Feeling rather satisfied with his plan, Shawn grinned to himself. Currying a little extra favor with Angela could only help him achieve his overall goal of getting back together with her.

With that strategy in mind, he began pulling out the books and notebooks for his next two classes. When that was done, he shoved them into his book sack. Lock in hand, he was about to make a grab for the locker door to shut it, but a soft tap on his arm made him turn his head to look over his shoulder.

His eyes widened, and he whirled around so fast he nearly lost his balance. The pretty blonde girl standing before him smiled shyly.

“Dana!” he exclaimed in surprise. His eyes nervously slid from side to side, anxiously looking up and down the hallway which was starting to fill-up with students preparing to go to their next class and those just generally loitering. “W-What’re you doing here?”

Dana Pruitt wrinkled her nose at the nonsensical question. “I go here, Shawn.”

“I mean here—," he pointed at the ground emphatically, "—at-at my locker. Um, I think everything that needed to be said was said the other night,” he told her. Out of the corner of his eye, a black girl of medium height and slender build, with curly hair and cocoa colored skin moved into view as she walked down the long expanse of hallway. Shawn’s palms grew moist as he held his book sack. Tiny beads of sweat popped up, indiscriminately dotting his forehead. Then she came into focus, and when he saw that it wasn’t Angela, the breath he hadn’t been aware of holding erupted from his lungs. Realizing that he was reacting from paranoia, he pulled himself together and transferred his gaze to the girl standing so calmly—almost too calmly—in front of him.

“Dana,” Shawn began irascibly, “haven’t you and your friends done enough to me? What do you girls want? Blood?”

Dana’s smile faded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Shawn scoffed. “Around here, bad news travels fast. “ He took the lowering of her eyes as an admission that she’d heard of his and Angela’s recent breakup. “You obviously came to gloat. I’m surprised your friends aren’t here with their pitch forks.” He turned back to his locker and slammed the door shut and attached the lock. “Well, you can report back to your partners in crime: mission accomplished.” Still, with his back to her, he braced a hand against the cool beige metal and gazed down at the bulging bag hanging down limply in his other hand. He didn’t want to listen to anymore lies. Besides that, he hoped that maybe she’d get the message and just go.

Behind him, Dana stood with her eyes downcast. “Shawn, I was honestly worried about Angela getting hurt. And considering our history, I think you know why.” She fiddled self-consciously with the belt of her camel colored coat. “B-But I have to admit from some things that Libby and Jennifer said after you and Angela left that-that I think you might be right about them. About their motives.” She raised her head. “That’s actually one of the reasons why I decided to stop by,” she admitted. “I never meant for it to go that far.”

Shawn slowly turned around and looked at her steadily from under the ridge of his thick brows.

A flood of color stained her face.

“Well, maybe we—maybe I did.” She bit her lip and then let out a slow sigh. “I mean, I admit that it was kind of hard seeing and hearing about all the effort you were putting into your relationship with Angela after-after you just gave up on us, Shawn.”

Shawn raked through his hair. “Listen, Dana, I should have told you how I felt instead of not calling and avoiding you. I’m really sorry.”

She held up a hand. “You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

Shawn sighed heavily. “Yeah, I do. I never meant to hurt you,” he murmured, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “And I regret breaking up with you like I did.”

Dana swallowed hard obviously in the grips of a powerful emotion. However, she managed to nod, but her eyes fell away from his.

“You’re the only one I should and do feel bad about though. I don’t know what’s Jennifer and Libby’s problem with me,” Shawn complained bitterly, unable to help himself.

Dana frowned, unsure of what he was trying to say.

“Dana, all that stuff those two fed you was lies. Jennifer broke up with me twice. The last time because I wouldn’t stop being friends with Cory.

“Well, what about Libby?” she queried curiously.

Shawn sighed heavily. “I met Libby on a blind date that turned into a make out session,” he explained with an attitude of weariness. He was really tired of the whole mess and the rehashing of the past. Nonetheless, he continued to elucidate his part in it. “We both knew what we were getting out of that evening and parted friends. After that we saw each other casually a couple of times, but we never dated. And I don’t remember making any promises to her.”

Dana looked slightly puzzled. “Why didn’t you say any of this that night?”

Shawn shrugged. “It wasn’t like any of you were exactly in the mood to listen, and she and Jennifer obviously remembered things a lot differently then I did. Besides, I was caught off guard and, um, had other-other stuff on my mind.” Like how hurt Angela was going to be when she arrived at the apartment to find me gone—and trying to think of a way to get away from you three so that I could be with her, he finished up silently, deliberately neglecting to voice those thoughts to Dana.

Although they had been over with for quite some time, he got the impression from her earlier statement that she might not want to hear about how badly he wanted to be with Angela or how concerned he’d been about disappointing her on their special night.

Her next words would soon confirm that notion. Nevertheless, he was still taken aback by her subsequent actions.

Dana took a few steps and stood close to him. She leisurely ran her hand down his arm.

“Well, maybe we can try again.” Dana suggested hopefully, her tone of voice soft and breathy.

Shawn glanced down at her small hand on his arm and then transferred his apprehensive gaze to her upturned face. Once again, he looked around uneasily.

“Why else would you have broken up with Angela, Shawn? And you’ve already admitted that you weren’t serious with either Libby or Jennifer. That only leaves me.” It was obvious to her now that Shawn was capable of sustaining a serious relationship if he cared enough. Maybe this time, he’d fall in love with her for keeps.

Unfortunately for her, her hopes were dashed inside of a few seconds when Shawn gently removed her hand from his arm. He shook his head slowly, his gaze grave.

“You deserve someone who’s into you one hundred percent, Dana,” he said solemnly. “And that’s just not me.” His blue eyes looked into her suddenly glistening brown ones. “The one good thing that’s come out of all of this is that I realize now that I really meant what I said before I got scared. I love Angela. I do love her.”

“Wow,” she blurted out, looking a little embarrassed. “Well then, all I can say is that Angela’s a lucky girl.” Composing her features into a look of credible acceptance, Dana attempted to hide her very real disappointment and ire. “I hope you don’t hurt her, Shawn,” she added disingenuously.

The first bell coincided with Shawn preparing to speak. “I honestly don’t know if I’ll hurt Angela sometimes, Dana,” was his forthright response. “But I do know that I’m going to try my best not to and to always be completely truthful with her.” He shifted his book sack onto his shoulder and spread his hands. “And that’s really all anyone can promise anyone.”

Shawn’s ex-girlfriend smiled faintly, yet it was tinged with a mixture of regret and a hefty amount of envy. “I can really tell that you’ve changed, Shawn. I’m sorry we messed up things between you and Angela,” she said, her voice ringing with a convincing note of real sincerity. “I-I really hope you can patch things up.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” he said, sighing, and before he knew what she was going to do, Dana placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned forward, and kissed him full on the lips.

After a brief moment of shocked immobility, Shawn leapt back like he'd been shot out of a canon, his body striking the rows of stacked lockers at at his back. A loud tinny bang reverberated through his body as he lay pressed against the metal. His eyes were wide as saucers, and he regarded her tranquil features with slack-jawed dismay.

“Dana! What the—What’d you do that for?” he yelped in a panicky voice.

If she was disappointed once again with his reaction, she masked it well. “Just a kiss to wish you good luck, Shawn, and to say good-bye properly,” she replied pleasantly. With a final parting smile and a surreptitious glance to the left, she moved off and disappeared into the sea of bodies beginning to file out into the hall from various classrooms.

The second bell sounded. Shawn was so shaken that he forgot about going to Angela’s fifth period class to intercept her and headed straight for the seniors’ corner for a much needed shot of caffeine. As he neared the corner, he saw a flash a material, and his steps faltered slightly even as his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Intuitively, he quickened his pace, and as he turned the corner, he witnessed the slim, fleeing figure of a girl. Within seconds, he realized with a sinking heart that this time it really was Angela.

“Angela!” he called out frantically. “Angela!”

After one costly moment’s hesitation, he broke out into a run, but she was too far ahead of him. He sprinted past the coffee stand and when he got to the stairwell, he looked up but saw only faces coming down on one side and the unfamiliar backs of heads going up the other. He moved off to the side and leaned against the wall, defeated and more than a little upset. He had a sinking feeling that Angela’s abrupt departure indicated that she’d seen something that had bothered or had shocked her: like Dana kissing him. Shawn shut his eyes and groaned loudly. Students rushing past him gave him odd looks, but none paused to see what was wrong.

Finally, pushing himself off the dingy wall, he despondently trailed down the hall to his own class and slipped into his chair before the final bell. The time moved at a snail’s crawl. Somehow, he managed to pay adequate attention to the instructor’s monotone droning to scribble down partially coherent notes and take his mind of his troubles in intermittent intervals. By the class’s end, however, Shawn was in a fever to get his next one and Angela. Yet, in his haste and even though the bell was about to ring, he made the mistake of gathering his things and getting up before the instructor had officially dismissed the class. The strict instructor detained them, delaying him and his resentful classmates until the second bell rang when they were let go.

Shawn raced around the corridor hoping against hope to waylay Angela outside Feeny’s class. Unfortunately, when he got there, everyone was already inside and seated. And instead of sitting where she normally sat in the back next to him, Angela was seated on the opposite side of the classroom next to Topanga. She was obviously avoiding him. He hooked his book sack on the back of his chair and started up the aisle, determined to talk to her.

As he passed Cory’s desk, he grimaced as he felt resistance impeding his forward momentum. Falling back a few steps, he turned his head. Cory sat clutching a handful of his outer shirt.

Shawn frowned down at Cory with a ‘what gives’ look on his face.

“Don’t, Shawnie,” Cory urged from under his breath, so that Topanga who was sitting just ahead of him wouldn’t overhear. He stared up at his friend, shaking his curly head. “Trust me on this. It isn't a good time. Wait until class is over.”

Shawn hesitated and looked over at Angela. Unaware of what was going on behind her, she sat looking straight ahead of her at the blank chalkboard. If her upright and rigid posture provided a hint as to her mental state, then Cory was right, Shawn thought unhappily. Throwing his head back in frustration, he backtracked to his seat and sat down.

A few moments later, Mr. Feeny sailed by their desks, headed to his own. Once there, he deposited his briefcase on it before he, too, sat down and began calling the roll. That being done, and the homework assignment collected, he asked the class to take out their book of Shakespearean plays, rose from his chair and began the day’s lecture.

Fifty minutes later as they filed through the door, Shawn caught up with Angela who along with Topanga had squeezed by him as he stood stationed by the door.

He trotted alongside of her. “Angela, you can’t still be mad at me about yesterday.”

“I’m not. I’ve got plenty to be mad at you for today.” She turned her head for a brief second, scorching him with a scathing glance. “By the way, I so enjoyed watching you and your new girlfriend make out by your locker,” she snapped heatedly. "And to think that I was actually coming to talk to you." Then, with her nose rising well into the air, she quickened her step and proceeded to ignore his pleas for her stop running and talk to him.

"I swear I can explain if you'll just give me a chance!" Shawn exclaimed.

Angela's response was to cut her eyes at him and walk even faster.

Having had enough of her attitude, especially when he hadn’t done anything, Shawn grabbed her arm and propelled her over to the senior corner for a bit of privacy leaving Topanga to stand staring after them further up the hall. Timidly, Cory attempted to approach her, and she scurried off, instantaneously deciding to wait for Angela outside the building.

Shawn doggedly dragged a protesting and struggling Angela down onto the couch to sit next to him. Angela immediately jumped up, jerking her arm away. “I don’t particularly like being manhandled, Shawn Patrick Hunter.”

“Well, I don’t particularly like being ignored, Angela Shanaynay Moore,” he shot back and then instantly regretted his hasty words. He pushed the book sack off his shoulder, leaving it to sit on the couch, and rose rather slowly almost as if in fear of startling her and having her run off again.

She had no intention of running off; however, her eyes narrowed furiously. “You have some nerve—”

“Angela, I’m sorry. Alright?" He brushed the hair off his forehead. "I didn’t mean to-to manhandle you." The look he gave her conveyed his regret. "You know I would never intentionally hurt you. I just couldn't—think of anything else to do. You've got to at least let me explain about this afternoon,” he pleaded, holding out a hand to her in supplication. “I didn’t kiss Dana. If you saw the whole thing, then you know that. I got away from her the moment she kissed me.”

Angela pursed her lips. “Maybe I saw that, and maybe I didn’t. What was she doing with you anyway?” asked his ex-girlfriend in a clipped voice that rivaled the artic in chilliness. She wrapped her arms around her books and held them against her chest in a defensive manner.

Shawn flung out his hand agitatedly. “I was getting my books from my locker and someone tapped me on the shoulder. She was just—there, Angela. I swear I didn’t go looking for her or anything like that.”

Angela dark eyes traveled over his face, in search of the truth, for such a long time that Shawn was certain that she didn’t believe him, but contrary to his hasty assumption, she sat her books down on the table. Then dropping down onto one the end of the couch nearest the armrest as far as she could get from him, she shrugged out of her grey suede overcoat. It pooled around the hounds-tooth colored mini that covered her hips and the tops of her thighs. Black patent leather, high-heeled boots encased her calves and glinted from the overhead beam of light as she crossed one leg over the other.

Relief flooded through him. She believed him enough to be willing to listen. Shawn wet his dry lips as he gazed at her. She was so pretty. All the girls he’d gone out with had been, but Angela had a kind of glow about her that even though he couldn’t explain what it was, he could admire it and did. He never tired of just looking at her. Moreover, he'd never met another girl who was so secure in her looks with the exception of Topanga. He could rifle—and often did—through Angela’s cottony soft curls at any given time without fear of being reprimanded with cries of “Shawn, don’t! My hair!”

Presently, his bright eyes involuntarily traveled the length of her slender form. The black scooped necked knit top hugged her tender curves in flattering detail. The warm gold color of her chain and locket complimented the creamy cocoa of her skin. He wanted to bury his hands in the downy, cork screw curls, pull her face to his, and kiss her perfectly shaped lips; but from the wary expression on her face, he knew that would be premature and probably result in a sore, reddened cheek.

Angela felt heat invade her face as it always did when Shawn looked at her with that sexy gleam in his eyes. She cleared her throat in an effort to gain his wandering attention. They had a lot to talk about, and she wasn’t going to be distracted by pouting pink lips or jewel-toned azure eyes.

With difficulty, Shawn pulled himself from his musings. It was now or never. He sat down and rested his arms on his legs as he leaned forward to talk to her but was careful not to invade her space.

“Angela, I apologize for acting so crazy at Chubbie’s yesterday,” he said, his voice full of contrition. “I completely overreacted for no reason. You know I trust you.”

Angela inclined her head in acceptance of his apology.

“It was just that my stupid declaration about us being friends made me—well, insecure. That ‘First Girfriends’ Club’ spooked me.”

Angela raised her eyebrows. “'First Girfriends’ Club'?”

He explained Cory’s hypothesis and how he’d compared what Shawn’s old girlfriends had done to the theme of the movie “The First Wives’ Club”. As a female, Angela was well acquainted with the movie, so to his infinite relief, and not having a mother who loved the movie, he was spared having to explain it in more detail.

“Cory’s pretty astute,” she remarked with some surprise. “I knew those girls were up to no good.”

Shawn shook his head, unable to believe how gullible he’d been. “They really had me going. A-And then on top of that, finding you with Ted and seeing what looked like you two holding hands…” his voice trailed off. In spite of his genuine remorse, Shawn still didn’t like what he’d seen. And he liked even less talking about it.

Understanding him better than he thought she did, Angela relented a little and laid a hand over the one lying next to her. “Shawn, it’s okay. I’m not mad about that anymore.”

Shawn turned his larger hand palm up under hers and held her held hand, their fingers tightly intertwined. As he looked down at their hands, he got the same thrill he always did whenever they touched.

He looked up to discover her watching him intently before he lowered them again. Suddenly, he felt tongue-tied and unsure of himself. The same feeling he’d gotten when he’d first discovered that she was his beloved “purse girl”. Not being able to talk to her then had been embarrassing enough, but how was he going to get her back if he couldn’t talk to her now?

Angela had glimpsed the panic in his eyes and responded to it. She recognized the signs. It was one of the things that she found so endearing about Shawn Hunter, the reputedly cool, fast-talking playa, who could have his pick of just about any girl of his choosing: He was incredibly and painfully shy when his feelings were truly engaged.

Angela gazed at him compassionately, a little smile playing about her pretty mouth. The situation was truly ironic. The more Shawn fell apart the more confident Angela became.

“Shawn?”

He lifted his downcast eyes bashfully. “Yeah?”

“Is there something in particular you wanted to say to me?” she asked softly. “I do have to get home, so if there’s nothing else…” She knew she was being a bit cruel, but he deserved to be toyed with a little for being such a sap the other night.

He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, there is,” he said hastily. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry for being such an idiot on Valentine’s Day,” he mumbled and then clammed up completely.

Angela gazed at his bowed head with tender amusement. He was sitting so still, nearly paralyzed with fear, that the only sign giving away the fact that he wasn’t a very real looking life-like statue was the steady stroking of his thumb on the back of her hand.

Angela slid closer to him. Now only their linked hands separated them. “Shawn, it’s alright. You’re heart was in the right place. It’s just that there’s no preset mold or method for how two people fall in love,” she explained without rancor. “It’s an individual thing. Besides, I always thought of us as friends as well as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“I realize that now,” he commented ruefully.

“So what are you saying exactly?” she asked encouragingly, attempting to draw him out.

Oh boy, the moment of truth, Shawn thought fearfully. His felt a little lightheaded, and his heart was beating like a tom-tom in his chest. Not only that but his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his suddenly very dry mouth. Even worse, the hand that held hers was growing embarrassingly clammier by the moment. At any other time, he would have thought that he was getting sick, but he knew better. His body was reacting to the task ahead of him. Shawn knew instinctively that Angela wanted him to come out with an explicitly phrased admission so that there would be no misunderstanding of what they were to each other. What he couldn’t understand was why this was suddenly so hard when he’d already told three people today alone that he loved her? Why couldn’t he do the same now that they were face to face?

Drawing on the heritage of his forefathers, the ruthless Cossacks and fearless Lowland Scottish warriors, Shawn turned his body toward her a little and gathering his courage, he raised his head.

Angela was regarding him expectantly. When he spoke, his voice was so low that it was nearly inaudible. She bent her head so that her small ear was near his mouth.

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

Shawn caught a whiff of her heavenly scent as one downy soft curl tickled his chin. He tried again.

“I-I want you to be my girlfriend again, Angela. T-Take me back.”

She tilted her head up and looked at him speculatively. “And why would you want that?” she asked, prompting him.

A dusky shade of pink seeped into his cheeks. ‘Because I—” He abruptly stopped speaking when his voice emerged as a high-pitched squeak.

Angela onyx eyes gazed at him complacently while he struggled for self-control. He was looking down again, and she slipped her fingers underneath his chin, tilting his head up so that he was forced to look at her. What she saw in the luminous blue eyes made her breath catch.

Striving to overcome his fear, Shawn cleared his throat His lips worked a couple of time before the sound emerged. “I-I, um,” he swallowed hard, “I love you, Angela.” There, he’d said it. And now he didn’t know what to do next.

Fortunately for the both of them, Angela did. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. As soon as her soft lips made contact, Shawn’s bruised heart was consoled, and he responded with tenderness at first and then with growing passion, gently nudging her lips apart and deepening the kiss until only their harsh breathing could be heard in the silence of that mostly vacant area of the school. One arm went around her, pulling her close up against him while the other slid into her velvety curls. Angela sighed and slipped arms around his neck. Minutes passed and only the need for air made him lift his head. Shawn stared into the face of his love, feeling a little dazed and shaken.

“Wow!” he breathed reverently. He had kissed others, and he and Angela had shared some exceptional kisses, but this was one for the record books. Had he been standing, her passionate response would have rocked him off his feet.

Angela opened her eyes, and they sat gazing at each other for some little while, both panting and hearts racing.

His heart full to bursting with happiness, Shawn repeated his earlier declaration without prompting. “I love you, Angela,” he said firmly, his voice deepening in that special tone that sent shivers down her spine every time she heard it. "I love you."

She smiled dreamily. “Hmmm,” she murmured, sighing with contentment. “That just never gets old.” Then with an impish gleam in her eyes, she added blithely, “Oh, and by the way, I love you, too.”

Her admission was unexpected, and he was caught unawares. He drew his breath in sharply. “Y-You do?”

She slid a hand from the back of his head and gently caressed his face. “Of course, I do, silly.” She giggled infectiously. “Do you think I go around kissing every guy I know like that?”

Shawn scowled in mock anger. “You better not go around kissing any guys at all!” Then his expression cleared, and he uttered in low and rather seductive tones, “Well, except me, that is.”

Well pleased with one another, they were about to resume their mutually enjoyable pastime when at just that moment, a disembodied curly-haired head appeared from around the corner. When Cory saw that everything was alright, he tried to discreetly withdraw before they got sight of him, but Shawn caught the movement out of the side of one eye.

“Cory!” he cried jubilantly. A sappy grin extended from one of his ears to the other. “Don’t go!” He waved his friend over.

Angela removed her hand from around the nape of Shawn’s neck and sat up straighter as Cory came over a little diffidently. Shawn loosened his hold some but kept his arms right where they were: around Angela’s slender waist.

“By the look of things, you two don’t need me,” he protested half-heartedly. Yet he was glad to be with them and witness for himself Shawn’s happiness. In fact, happy wasn’t quite the word he was looking for. Besotted and love-struck were much more apt descriptions. Then again, Angela didn’t look anymore sensible than he did. Cory had never seen this side of her. Her normal reserve was missing. Her dark eyes were gazing at Shawn as if he’d hung not only the stars and the moon, but the sun, too.

Cory hadn't been exaggerating. Shawn was grinning at him, a wonderfully foolish expression on his boyishly handsome face. Even the faint crescents underneath his eyes seemed diminished in the incredible glow of his joy.

“Angela loves me,” he declared proudly.

His girlfriend nodded, completely unembarrassed by his sharing this very new and extremely personal piece of information. She had no problem with the close bond that Shawn and Cory’s shared that made the impetuous announcement necessary, even coming as it did hard on the heels of her frank admission.

“Yep. That’s right,” she affirmed boldly even going so far as to encircle Shawn’s waist.

Pleasantly surprised by this uncharacteristic show of affection in front of Cory, he responded by kissing her cheek. “It’s official. Angela and I are in love, Cor.”

Cory smiled brightly. “That’s great, you guys,” he congratulated them. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Me, too, Cor.” Shawn sighed contentedly. “Me, too. This is the best post Valentine’s Day, I’ve ever had. And I owe it all to—” he broke off, looking first at Angela and then Cory before they all chimed in together, “ ‘The First Girlfriends’ Club’!”

The End