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Chapter Three

Shawn fiddled with his the collar of his shirt, and then the cuffs of his jacket. He lifted one leg, vigorously rubbing the toe of his dress shoe against the back of his dark pants before repeating the action with the other. He wasn’t sure that they were shiny enough.

“Shawn, please stop tugging at your clothes,” Angela asked him softly. She gently tucked the collar of his dark blue blazer under the dress shirt’s light blue collar. “Why are you so nervous? You look incredibly handsome.”

Shawn was so preoccupied with his shoes that he hardly heard her. He rubbed the offending object harder on his pants’ leg. “I’m not sure that I got all of the blacking off my shoes when I polished them.” In response to her look of exasperation, he lowered his leg and raised his hands to cover hers, holding them in his.

“Baby, I just want to look presentable for your father,” he stressed anxiously. “I want him to like me, Angela. You’re the one who said that he was a stickler for the conventions. That’s why I bought these clothes and these shoes.”

“I see you’re wearing a tie again.” She sighed, shaking her head. She was referring to their first date as a real couple when she’s asked him never to go so far out of character as to wear a tie. Now here he was in one anyway. It was just so not Shawn.

“Well, I thought he might take offense if I looked like I wasn’t taking this first meeting with him seriously.”

Angela loosed the tie and pulled it off. “It’s too much, Shawn. You’ll look like you’re trying to hard. Trust me. He’ll love you if you’ll just be yourself,” she assured him, mitigating the chiding with a kiss.

Shawn’s arms came up and around her, pressing her to him. When a loud “Harrumph” split the air, he jumped back from her as though scalded by a shower of hot water.

Angela swung around. “Daddy!” She exclaimed happily and ran over to give him a hug.

“Sergeant Moore, sir!” Shawn cried, red-faced.

“Young man,” Angela’s father said in acknowledgement.

Angela, pressed up against her father’s side, frowned up at him. “Shawn, Daddy,” she said in a soft undertone.

Sergeant Alvin Moore nodded, and keeping one arm around his daughter, extended one large hand to his guest.

Shawn stared at the huge appendage and then hastily ran his clammy palm down one side of his pants.

“How do you do, sir?” Shawn croaked out rather hoarsely, and was immediately embarrassed. He couldn’t understand why this meeting had him so jumpy. He who’d never cared what anyone much less a girl’s parents thought of him felt more intimidated then he’d ever felt by another person in his life. In the past, if they didn’t like him, then he just moved on to another girl. And there was the rub in this instance. He loved Angela and couldn’t afford to be cavalier as he had before he'd met her. Too much was at stake. He didn’t want to move on to another girl. He couldn’t. He had to win Sergeant Moore’s approval. So much depended on it, and even more importantly, Angela was counting on him to make a good impression. He wouldn’t disappoint her.

“So, Shawn, why don’t we go into the living room and talk for a bit before dinner.” He released Angela and looked down at her from the imposing height of his six feet six inches. “I think you might want to check on our dinner, honey.” He favored Shawn with a conspiratory grin. “Make sure everything that’s supposed to be moist and juicy stays that way and what’s supposed to be crisp and crunchy remains so.”

Receiving the not so veiled order to leave them alone with so-so grace, Angela smiled encouragingly at Shawn before exiting the room for the kitchen.

Both men watched her go with conflicting emotions.

Angela’s father turned around. “Well,” Alvin Moore boomed startling his daughter’s boyfriend, his manner brisk, “sit down—Shawn.”

Shawn nodded and obediently moved to follow his directive, walking behind him from the small foyer past the stairs to the living room just beyond. He headed for the stiff wingback chair upholstered in bright red chenille which was appropriate since Shawn felt like he was in the hot seat. He sat down gingerly on its edge. All the eagerness he’d demonstrated with Cory two days ago had drained away when the enormity of the situation had finally dawn on him. This man held his and Angela’s fate in his hands. The thought made Shawn tightly clasp his hands together between his wide spread legs to still the random tremors as he leaned slightly forward.

“So, you've been dating Angela for six months now.” He eased himself into a recliner that was large enough for him not to appear incongruous in it. He was casually dressed, Shawn noted, feeling a little overdressed himself and thankful that Angela had at least spared him the burden of the tie by removing it. He undid the top button at his collar and felt like he could breathe a little easier as he responded to Sergeant Moore’s inquiry.

“Yes, sir.” So far so good, he thought, feeling comfortable enough to add, “Since the end of last October.”

Alvin Moore narrowed his eyes. “Exclusively?”

“Yes, sir.” Shawn nodded. “Angela’s special.”

Alvin Moore nodded impatiently. “Yes. I’m well aware of Angela’s many attributes. But I didn’t ask you here to talk about my daughter, young man.” He settled back in his seat, one leg resting on his knee. “I asked you here to talk about your…background.”

Shawn willed himself not to look away from the probing brown eyes. What did he know? Had he pumped his own daughter for information? Maybe his recruiter status in the military was just a façade, and he belonged to an intelligence division that had provided him with information on his daughter’s boyfriend humble background. If that were the case, then he knew that Shawn had no right to set his sights on Angela. He jumped slightly when addressed again.

“Well, son, I’m waiting.”

Slowly and with deliberation, Shawn began the anticipated accounting of his life. From his birth in Ohio, to his being raised in Oklahoma as a young child, he left nothing out concerning the numerous schools he’d been in until the age of thirteen when his family had finally settled in Philadelphia. He talked of the dives his family had lived in and finally the trailer parks that he’d called home until just three years ago when Jack, his half brother, had showed up, taking on the task of raising the younger brother he’d never even seen at the behest of his father, who after years of unemployment had finally found a successful career as a truck driver. At the end of his tale, he glanced up from his hands to see that Angela had come back into the room. His heart tightened in his chest. Now she was privy to things he’d never wanted her to know. Would she ever look at him the same way again, or would she too regard him with pity or would disdain make its stealthy way into her heart, coloring her opinion of him like it had done with Jill Hollinger, the first girl who’d made him aware that he wasn’t good enough for her at the tender age of thirteen. If Angela ever looked at him like she had, he didn’t know if he could take it. Jill had been a crush, and her rejection had sent him reeling, making him realize for the first time that he wasn’t like Cory in spite of their having been friends since they were six years old in the first grade. He’d begun gravitating to a rougher crowd of boys from his side of the tracks and had gotten, involved in vandalism of school property before escalating into petty theft.

That had been a dark time in his life, and if not for the intervention of one of his teachers, Jonathan Taylor, Shawn didn’t think that he’d have found his way back from the dark side intact. Cory and his family had been a help and in time, he’d bounced back but with internal scars and insecurities about his past and background that he'd never let anyone see or touch, not even Cory.

And now Angela knew his deepest darkest secrets. Would she still love him? Or consider him a pathetic reject as Jill had.

“Shawn?” Angela laid a hand on his shoulder.

Shawn started and looked up at her blankly. “Huh?”

“Daddy was just asking about your mother,” she said quietly. After giving his shoulder an imperceptible squeeze signifying her support, she removed her hand and went to sit down on the sofa, almost perfectly situated in a middle between the two men seated in the side chairs as a referee would be.

“Yes, you mentioned your father and his trouble with finding stable employment,” Alvin Moore explained, folding his arms across his board chest. “That must have been hard on your mother.”

“Um, my mother.” Shawn scratched the back of his ear nervously. Angela was also watching him although with a benevolence that her father’s gaze lacked yet with just as much interest. He made himself concentrate and choose his words. “Yeah, she worked hard to keep up together as a family,” he began, “that is, until she couldn’t take it anymore and-and left us—for good that..last time.” Defiant blue eyes glared Sergeant Moore’s obviously shocked face as if daring the older man to judge or pity him.

Shawn heard Angela’s quick in drawn breath, but refused to look at her. Angela knew about his mother’s dual flights, of course, in full detail. But as vulnerable as he was currently feeling, he didn’t think he could stand to see the latter emotion in the lovely brown eyes of the girl he loved.

Her father quickly uncrossed his legs and arms and sat bolt upright, his hands gripping the chair’s arms. “Are you saying that your mother abandoned your family?”

The tension slowly faded from Shawn’s body. The belligerent light dimmed, and his eyes slid away as he nodded his head affirmatively.

“Yes, sir.”

The silence that followed was thick and charged with a curious energy. He reluctantly raised his eyes, shame and lingering hurt buried deep in their depths, but not concealed enough for the man across from him not to see it and unconsciously be affected by the pathos reflected there.

“That must have been hard on you, son, and your Dad,” he said gently, after a pause. “I know that when my---”

“Daddy, I’m sure Shawn would rather not talk about his mother right now,” Angela interjected hurriedly, from between clenched teeth. She jumped up preemptively to bar further pursuit of the topic. “Besides, I came in to tell you that dinner is ready, so why don’t we all go in before it overcooks. I-I made lamb, and I don’t’ want it to be rubbery.”

Alvin Moore turned his head and stared up at his daughter with narrowed eyes. A dull flush appeared under the brown skin of her sculpted cheeks. She uncomfortably smoothed the sides of her dress down, but stubbornly continued to meet his fixed gaze without backing down. A silent communication of some kind passed between them. Shawn, who was now intently studying the herringbone pattern of the wood floor, missed the byplay. Eventually, her father shook his head slightly but nevertheless rose with a heartfelt sigh.

Shawn stood up, too. Angela walked over to him and took his hand. She smiled at him. ‘Come on. Let’s go in.”

They went into the adjoined dining room. The table was formally set with the family’s best china, glassware and silver candlestick holders. It was elegant and very beautiful. Shawn gasped when he saw it, certain that Angela had gone to such trouble mainly for him.

“It’s beautiful, Angela,” he said softly. Unseen, his thumb caressed her palm, sending little shivers up her arm.

His pleased girlfriend preened. “Thank you.” She favored him with a smile so pretty that he couldn’t help feeling a little dazzled.

They gazed at each other with an understanding that was palpable and potent. Shawn’s eyes traveled over her face with obvious affection. From his position at the head of the table, Sergeant Moore cleared his throat to get the teenagers’ rapt attention.

“Shawn, why don’t you have a seat while Angela and I bring in dinner?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Shawn self-consciously smoothed his slicked backed hair, complying while Angela moved toward the kitchen with her father.

Father and daughter came back quickly. He was carrying a large platter that matched the dinnerware with a glistening brown delectable roasted lamb at its center, already carved and garnished with baby potatoes and a colorful assortment of mixed vegetables. Angela came up behind him with a bottle of what looked like wine.

When everything was laid out on the table, Sergeant Moore seated himself at the head of the table with Angela dropping down into the seat on his left, directly across from Shawn.

Shawn gazed at her, feeling more peaceful just looking at the pretty picture she made.

“Shawn?” He looked at his host. “Your plate, please.”

“Oh, yes, sir,” he said hastily, handing it to the older man. Alvin Moore filled it with the appropriate amount of food, his having been a teenage boy himself holding him in good stead. He held it out to his daughter’s suitor.

Shawn took it from him. The delicious aroma wafted up to his nose and his stomach responded with a ferocious growl. Shawn grimaced expecting Angela’s father to take exception to his stomach’s lack of manners. However, the older man surprised him by grinning.

“Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about your appetite, Shawn,” he joked genially.

Angela, who was taking her plate from him, looked at him in surprise but smiled.

His color high, Shawn laughed albeit a reticently. “That’s normally never a problem, sir. My brother Jack or my best friend Cory will tell you that I’m usually hungry.”

Alvin Moore finished serving himself. “Well," he began while setting his plate down in front of him, “that’s as it should be with a growing young man of your age. I swear I ate my weight in food everyday much to my mother’s dismay.” He rubbed the back of his head absently as he reminisced. “But not even her love taps to the back of my head for going in and out of her refrigerator affected my appetite.”

Shawn smiled politely at his gentle humor. And as his host bowed his head for grace, Shawn and Angela’s eyes met briefly, his with an expression of inquiry and hers with evasion. She gave a slight shrug and quickly closed her eyes, bowing her head. Shawn did likewise while wondering what had happened to the stern inquisitor from the earlier portion of the evening.

Shawn’s bewilderment, mixed with relief and a growing sense of ease, continued as the dinner wore on. He decided that he must have passed some kind of test unknown to him because of Sergeant Moore ever increasing solicitude.

“So, Shawn what were you’re plans for Prom night?” he asked comfortably as his dinner guest forked a succulent morsel of lamb into his mouth, capturing his wandering attention.

Shawn finished chewing rather hastily. “Um, Cory—he’s my best friend--and I were planning on hiring a limousine for the night.” His expression darkened as he watched his half empty glass get refilled with the clear Sparkling Cider he’d thought was wine. “But I’m not exactly sure if he’s going to go to the Prom anymore since he and his girlfriend broke up a couple of months ago.”

Alvin Moore’s dark eyebrows shot up. He quickly glanced at Angela then back at Shawn. “Then it’ll just be you and Angela in this limo?”

“Cory’s my friend Topanga’s boyfriend, Daddy,” she interjected before Shawn could reply. “I’m sure they’ll work everything out before Prom Night. It’s just a little spat.”

Shawn’s eyes flickered but he didn’t contradict Angela. “Yeah, um, it’s just a temporary thing. I didn’t mean to make it sound more serious than it is.”

His features relaxing, Alvin Moore nodded. “Good.” He sipped his cider. “Well, you have my permission to escort Angela on the big night.” Alvin Moore announced casually. A reaction wasn’t long in coming.

Angela’s utensils clattered as they hit her plate and bounced off of it. She jumped up to go to her father’s side and throw her arms around the wide expanse of his shoulders, her head coming to rest against his. “Daddy! Thank you!” she squealed with happiness, pressing her head firmly to his. “Thank you so much!”

Her father cupped her face with one hand and squeezed one her small hands. “No problem, baby.” The military man’s eyes gleamed with a soft light of love reserved only for his only child.

Although feeling as jubilant as Angela, Shawn refrained from showing any outward display of emotion beyond a small satisfied smile. He got to his feet and stretched out a hand.

“Thank you, sir.” He too laid his fork down, brought the fine linen napkin to his from where it lay on his lap and got up, right hand extended. “I promise I’ll keep Angela safe.” Serious blue eyes met Alvin Moore’s dark brown orbs squarely. “You won’t regret your decision.”

Sergeant Moore’s eyes dropped to the hand being held out to him. Angela straightened, releasing him, and he leaned forward to grasp the young man’s hand in his. The massive brown hand swallowed up the much smaller pale one,concealing it from sight in a firm handshake.

“I’m counting on it, son.” After a moment, he let go and turned his head to speak to Angela who was once again seated. “Would you mind if I left the cleaning up to you and Shawn, baby?” He pushed back his chair, knowing that the question was a mere formality. “I have some work I need to get done before my next recruiting drive.”

Angela shook her head in a kind of daze. Everything had gone so well after a particularly—she’d been eavesdropping from the kitchen—ignominious beginning. And now, here was her father leaving them alone together and without her even having to ask for that privilege!

Gathering her wits, she replied, feeling a little giddy, “N-Not at all, Daddy. Shawn and I’ll take care of everything.”

“Good enough.” He glanced back and forth between the youngsters. “You two carry on with your dinner.” He smiled at his daughter. “It was a great meal, honey. You out did yourself tonight.” Alvin Moore reached out and gently chucked her on the chin.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

She and Shawn watched as he left, making his way with compact strides across the adjacent living room before he disappeared from sight as he neared the stairs.

Angela turned to Shawn. “I can’t believe it was that easy.”

A slow smile curved the tips of Shawn’s bowed mouth. “Don’t tell me that you doubted my ability to charm your Dad, Angela?” he asked in mock surprise. Shawn’s famous cockiness had returned with a vengeance hard on the heels of his success with Angela’s father, his uncertainty and self-consciousness an unpleasant but quickly dissipating memory. “I'm Shawn Hunter, after all. I have a talent for persuasion, you know.”

Angela directed an exasperated glance at him. “You’ll forgive my pessimism since my Dad isn’t one of the legions of teenage girls crushing on you!” she shot back.

Shawn gave a hoot of laughter at the pin point accuracy of her arrow. The legs of his chair softly scraped against the wood floor as he got up and came around the table to her side. Angela rose to in anticipation of his next move which was to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her tight up against him. They stood cheek to cheek with Angela’s arms braced against his chest.

“Jealous?” he queried softly. He turned his head, and his soft lips met the skin of one velvety cheek.

“Of course not!” she repied smartly. It wasn't a complete lie.

Shawn lips traveled down to the nape of her neck. Small hands crept up his shirt front to snake around his neck. “I’m just glad that some of your famous prowess translated with my father.” She closed her eyes, tilting her head to give him better access. “He can be a-a tough nut to crack, especially when it comes to me.”

Shawn raised his head and looked down into her face. Her eyes slowly opened. “What?”

When he didn’t answer but continued to look at her with an all too familiar look in his suddenly heavy lidded blue eyes, her heart began to beat faster.

“If-If you’re finished, we should get the table cleared before he comes down again,” she stammered. Even to her own ears, she sounded a little breathless and slightly unnerved.

“Yeah, we should,” Shawn murmured softly just before his head dipped, and his lips made contact with hers.

Slow, deep kisses made her head swim. Silence ensued except for the soft sounds of tongues and lips and inadvertent moans. Angela dragged her mouth away, fighting to catch her breath. Shawn brushed butterfly soft kisses down her cheek and neck. Reluctantly, and with her heart beating hard within her chest, she pulled out of his arms, putting some much needed space between them before turning to the table to lay her utensils onto her plate.

“I’m going to clear the table,” she announced in mortifyingly squeaky tones, picking up the plate and glass. Avoiding Shawn’s face, she scurried from the room. Shawn remained where he was, a cocky smirk adorning his handsome face and a newfound bounce to his step. He walked around the table to his own place setting, stopping only to retrieve Sergeant Moore’s half-empty plate which he stacked on top of his own. Then he grabbed to the two wineglasses and headed to the kitchen door.

He backed into it, and when he turned around, Angela came over to him, taking the plates from his hands. Eyes downcast, she went over to the sink and scraped the remnants of their dinner into the garbage disposal.

Shawn came up behind her, reached around her and sat the wineglasses on the counter. “I’ll get the rest of the things,” he said, near her ear. One of the downy spirals of her hair stirred from the soft burst of breath.

“O-Okay,” she stammered jerkily, resisting the impulse to move away from the warmth coming of his body as he stood next to her. What was wrong with her? she wondered anxiously. This was Shawn—the guy she loved, but something had been different about him lately. About their relationship. And she knew what it was even though she’d been hoping to put it off for a while longer.

She jumped a little when he returned with the platter and the rest of the things from the table. They worked industriously and well together. In a short time, the dinning room and kitchen were spotless and returned to order.

Shawn took Angela’s hand and led her out of the room over to the sofa. As soon as they sat down, Shawn leaned in, initiating another soul stirring kiss. It went on and on until Angela dimly thought she heard footsteps on the stairs. Quickly inserting the hands that had been buried in Shawn’s hair between their bodies, she pushed against his chest and turned her head away.

Undeterred, Shawn continued to rain kisses down her cheek and neck.

“Shawn!” Angela whispered anxiously. “I thought I heard my father on the stairs. Now behave!”

Sighing, Shawn raised his head from where it was buried in her neck. “I didn’t hear anything, Angela,” he said in his normal speaking voice. He sat back, and titled his head, listening intently before looking at her again. “I think you’re becoming paranoid.” He gave her a look that nearly melted her into a puddle. “C'mere, baby.”

She knew that she shouldn’t. They had just by some miracle won permission to be together for their Prom, one of the most important events of their senior year outside of graduation. They couldn’t risk offending her father now, but when he looked at her like that with his arms spread across the back of the sofa, legs wide, jacket open and his shirt undone at the neck, looking all kinds of hot, Angela found that she couldn’t resist throwing caution to the wind and herself up against him.

Her arms went around his neck and he lowered his lips to hers, pressing apart the soft baby doll shaped lips that he loved. Angela moaned as his tongue slid inside, tasting and teasing her. Angela timidly rolled her tongue around his. Shawn groaned and pushed her down onto the sofa, a familiar tightening in his groin. Somehow, during the haze of desire, he’d gotten her dress off her shoulders and down her arms. Angela could feel his hand lifting one of her breasts from its pretty confinement. She gasped as he palmed her small orb and again when his thumb passed over her nipple, causing it to grow erect and firm. He dropped his head from her lips and took it into his mouth, sucking it delicately and then harder. Angela creamed and moaned as Shawn positioned himself between her legs. His hands hiked up her dress and caressed her hips and velvety thighs. A guttural sound erupted in his throat as he ground his hardness against her.

Then all of a sudden, he felt a push, and he was on the floor, his head narrowly missing the coffee table.

He stared up at Angela who was frantically adjusting her bra and the skirt of her dress.

“What're you doing?” he asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

Saving your life!” Angela hissed. “My father is upstairs. Are you crazy?”

He watched his girlfriend hurriedly insert her arms through the dress’s armholes and struggled to zip it up. He agilely sprang up, intending to help her.

“Okay. You’re right,” Shawn admitted wryly. He ran a hand over his face. “I got a little carried away, Angela. I didn’t intend to go that far.”

“Tonight, you mean you didn’t,” she corrected him. She stood, turned her back to him and he slid the zipper up the back of her dress. When he was done, she spun around, her arms folded across her chest. “I’m not sure that I’m ready for-for what you want from me, Shawn.” Her serious brown eyes met his surprised blue.

“But the other week at that party—”

“I know I seemed like I wanted to,” she admitted looking contrite, “and a part of me does, Shawn, but I don’t think I’m ready yet. And I don’t know when I will be.” Her eyes fell from his, and she took a deep breath. “I-I’ll understand if-if you want to bring someone else to the Prom.”

Shawn scowled down at her. He lifted her chin with the crook of his finger. “You think sex is all I want from you, and that if I don’t get it, I’m gone?”

Angela bit her lip and would have looked away but the intensity of his stare wouldn’t allow it. “I-I don’t know.” She sighed. “I mean, it’s probably not all, but—”

He took her face in his hands, his eyes boring into her soul. “I love you, Angela. And I thought you loved me, too.”

Tears sprang into her eyes. “I do, Shawn! I do! I love you so much!”

“Then how could you think that I’d break up with you just because you’re not ready to have sex with me?” he asked, distressed. “I thought you knew me better than that. Angela, I’ve never shared so much of myself with any other girl.”

The hurt in his voice tormented Angela. She burrowed her head into his chest, her arms slipping around his waist. “I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know that I’d-I'd understand.”

He swallowed his pain, realizing that she hadn't intended to hurt him, but rather had been trying to protect herself from possible rejection. He didn't like the thought of her feeling as though she had to protect herself from him, and he would prove to her that she didn't have to.

“Okay, that’s fine. But you understand this, Angela Shaynaynay Moore, no girl’s ever made me feel the way you do,” Shawn said fiercely from above her head. “I’m in love with you. Until you come to me, and tell me that you want me as much as I want you, I can wait. I can wait as long as I have to.”

 










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