Chapter Six

Fifteen minutes after the last bell rang, Shawn unobtrusively slipped through the open doorway and into his chair at the back of the room just behind Cory’s, letting his backpack slide off his shoulder onto the chair’s maple colored back in one seamless and soundless move.

“Detention, Mr. Hunter,” George Feeny called out from the blackboard where he standing, his back facing the room as he furiously scribbling down notes for the class’s lecture.

Damn! Caught again by old eagle eyes. Shawn sighed and leaned forward to whisper to Cory, “I forgot he had eyes in the back of his head.”

Cory snickered inaudibly.

“And ears there as well, Mr. Hunter,” Mr. Feeny acknowledged expressionlessly, turning around as he wiped his hands clean of white chalk. “Want to try to for double duty tomorrow, too?”

Shawn slouched back in his seat. “No, Mr. Feeny. I have to work tomorrow.”

“Then shut up, and speak only when spoken to…” Shawn opened his mouth only to be cut off by Feeny, who while sternly looking at him over the steel rim of his eyeglasses, added,“…by me, Mr. Hunter.”

Outmaneuvered and outgunned, Shawn grinned good-naturedly and raised his hands in surrender.

Satisfied with this show of submissiveness, Feeny nodded and without misisng a beat, began to lecture.

Class continued uneventfully for the remaining forty-five minutes. At its end, Shawn and Cory strolled out into the hall and over to their lockers, conversing in low tones about their boring weekends.

A few minutes later, while they were still talking and leaning against the grey metal lockers, Angela came bounding down the hall, her face eager and searching.

Shawn’s back was to her as he faced Cory, so wasn’t aware of her until the clean delicate scent of her favorite perfume wafted underneath his nose.

Cory’s eyes slid past him as Shawn quickly turned around.

An involuntary smile of pleasure broke out on Shawn’s face. His assessing eyes quickly took inventory of the short blue shirt that flared around her dark upper thighs, the round necked white and blue striped tank top layered over another plain white one and a pair of white espadrilles, the straps of which cris-crossed up her lower calves. Her dark hair was styled in the sassy cork screw curls that he loved. His smiled widened with approval.

Angela came right up to him and throwing her arms around his neck, immediately leaned in for a kiss. Their lips almost met but Shawn happened to see a movement behind her a second before his eyes closed, and he belatedly remembered Sergeant Moore’s dictum and his own game plan. Shawn moved back and grabbed her arms, pulling them from around his neck, and as he did so, he saw the back of a tall form that looked like Ted Brazelton hurrying down the hallway in the opposite direction. He cursed under his breath.

He didn’t trust that bastard as far as he could trip him, and knew that he’d like nothing better than to have something to run back to tell Angela’s father, thus creating more problems for Shawn where getting back with Angela’s was concerned. Gradually, he realized that Angela was looking up at him in surprise, her former smile fading into nothing.

He groaned internally, understanding in that moment that this abstinence for the greater good was going to be harder than he’d ever imagined.

“Shawn?” Her voice called him from his pessimistic reverie. “What’s wrong, baby? Don’t you want to kiss me?”

He dropped her arms, but not before carefully bringing them down in front of her, and stepped back, prompting Cory who was directly behind him to move back as well.

“Angela,” he began uneasily. She was looking at him with a conspicuously hurt expression that tugged at his heart and made him feel like a brute. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and erase that look, but that was forbidden now. And their enemy was lurking somewhere near, he was sure of it, waiting and anticipating their next move so he could run to Angela’s father like the punk he was.

But, Shawn thought, determination strengthening his resolve, he wan’t going to get the ammunition he needed.

“Shawn, why’re you pushing me away?” She took a step toward only to have him back up a pace. She stood watching him with confusion on her pretty face. “We haven’t seen or talked to each other all weekend. I-I miss you,” she said softly.

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut briefly, suppressing a groan. “Baby, I miss you, too, but we’ve got to be smart about this,” he said echoing Jack. “We can’t give your father anything else to use against us.”

Angela shifted her weight to one foot, her hip jutting out. “And how would my father know what we do in school? You’re being paranoid, Shawn,” she chided,

“No,” he shook his head, “I’m not. I don’t trust that guy Brazelton. Look, if he doesn’t already know about what happened Friday, he’s going to find out soon. He hates me and would go running off to rat us out to your father just on general principle.”

Angela considered his words, and he knew by the resigned tilt of her head that she realized he was right. Still, she wanted reassurance that nothing had changed. She wanted his arms around her and his lips on hers. But obviously that wasn’t going to happen. Everything had changed.

“I guess you’re right.” It was said grudgingly.

Shawn released the breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. Involuntarily, his hand rose to take hers, but he quickly pulled it back. He used it to rake through his lustrous tresses in frustration.

“We’ve got to stay away from each other.” He saw her face fall, and hurriedly added, “Just for the time being. As much as I hate this, I really couldn’t stand it if he sent you away to college to keep us apart, baby. We’ve got to look at the bigger picture here.” Although he was careful to keep his distance, his blue eyes spoke for him, doing the double duty of plainly expressing how hard this was for him as well as beseeching her to understand. “I-I’m not even sure I can do it. Seeing you here every day and not touching you or talking to you is gonna kill me. I'm not gonna be able to do this on my own. Please, baby, say you’ll help me?”

His words were like a balm. She allowed them to sooth her anxiety. She exhaled and nodded. “Okay. I trust you, Shawn. We’ll handle this like you want.” Angela smiled at him lovingly and reassuringly.

Shawn returned it with one of his own before turning away quickly before his feelings overcame his better judgment. Leaning down to heft his book pack over one shoulder, he practically sprinted down the hall in the direction he thought he saw a lanky form with a gold and red letterman’s jacket go down.

The little sneak, Shawn thought angrily. I’ll show him what comes of spying on me. However, it was gone by the time he shouldered his way through the crowd of students.

Cory took off for his next class after favoring Angela an uncomfortable but sympathetic little smile. He knew how she felt. In spades.

Angela sighed, got her books from her locker and trudged off to her next class.

The next few weeks ushered in May and passed by in a whirlwind of activities for the graduating seniors: finals, more parties and for Shawn and Angela continued separation. Shawn seemed to have an easier time staying away from Angela than she did him, or at least, that’s the way it seemed to her as she watched him interact with their friends and others with an easy that disappeared, replaced by awkwardness as soon as she was within arms length of him.

She surreptitiously watched him with other girls. As soon as word of their breakup had made the rounds, girls had been coming out of the woodwork, each jostling for their shot at the newly single dreamboat. Angela couldn’t label his behavior with them as flirting exactly, but it didn’t help seeing him be so natural with them when all she got was avoidance that did nothing to allay her fear that they were growing apart. School had become painfully dull with finals over, and her boyfriend acting like she didn’t exist. She couldn’t wait for the semester to officially end. Even Ted hanging around more and more didn’t seem to pique Shawn’s interest. All suggestions that they meet up at Topanga’s or somewhere private away from prying eyes met with refusals couched in unsatisfactory explanations that were tinged with impatience. Angela no longer knew what to think.

And if Ted’s constant surveillance and Shawn’s cold shouldering wasn’t enough, then there was Stuart Minkus following her around like an adoring puppy. Every time she turned around, there he was shadowing her under one pretext or another: you dropped your pen, Angela; or can I borrow you notes for history class. Angela’s nerves were taunt and tense like fine horse hairs strung too tightly across the bridge and fingerboard of a violin, ready to pop from the slightest addition of pressure. Life at home sucked too for Angela. Her father was no where near relenting, and had been sickening in his encouragement of Ted’s pursuit of her.

Certain that the trend was going to continue, that night when Angela got home from Topanga’s, she tried to stealthily creep up to her room unseen.

Having noticed her father’s car outside on the drive strip, she knew that he was home, so Angela gingerly crept into the foyer in an attempt to avoid the living room. The same room which nightly had stopped just shy of becoming a battle zone, mostly because Angela refused to talk to him when he began belittling Shawn.

As she sidled up the stairs, a commanding voice stopped her on mid-stair.

“Angela,” Alvin Moore called out. He was wiping his hands on a large drying dish towel as he leaned against the right side of the case opening between the kitchen and the living room, his legs crossed at the ankles. Her father’s tall broad shouldered body was casually dressed in jeans, grey sweat shirt and white sneaks. He looked relaxed and contented. A fact his daughter noted with blazing hot resentment.

“Wash up for dinner.”

Although she’d come down the stairs, she didn’t look at him, her gaze downcast.

“I’m not hungry,” was her sullen response.

She heard an audible in drawn breath. “You have to eat, Angela. Skipping meals isn’t good for you.”

“What do you care about what’s good for me?”

Alvin Moore uncrossed his ankles and shouldered himself upright.

“Excuse me, young lady?” He tossed the towel behind him into the kitchen, uncaring of where it landed as he approached her. His face expressed his displeasure. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

She looked up at him then. “I respectfully ask to be excused from dinner,” she said tonelessly. Her body pivoted toward the stairs at her back.

“Permission denied, dammit! You will eat dinner with me,” her father ordered her. “I’m tired of your attitude. Skipping meals and giving me the silent treatment aren’t going to change my mind about that boy.”

She paused in mid-flight with her hand tense on the banner, her face aligned over her shoulder. The onyx gaze leveled at Alvin Moore held a look of disparagement in them.

“Do you think I don’t know why you're doing this, Dad? This isn’t about Shawn at all. It’s about her!” she spat, her voice rising. Controlled fury brought on by the last couple of weeks’ frustration, unhappiness and uncertainty laced its tone as she went on, “All of this is about my damn mother!”

Alvin’s thick lips tightened. “You better watch your mouth, little girl!” he hollered.

Angela left the foot of the stairs and stormed over to him confrontationally. She dropped her book bad onto the console table behind the sofa on her way over to him. Small hands borrowed underneath the opening of her coat to rest on her hips. She threw her head back, her fiery and hostile brown orbs meeting equally heated ones.

“Why? What else are you going to do to me, Dad? What else do I have to lose?” she asked undaunted. “You’ve sent the man I love away and are having me watched by the one I don’t want and never will all because you’re afraid of history repeating itself.” She drew herself up and took a deep breath. “Well, I’m not my mother. I’m not going to throw away my dreams and goals,” she saw her father wince, “just because I’m in love and then regret it later. Why won’t you trust me?”

Alvin Moore stared at his irate daughter before grabbing his head in a gesture of frustration. He squeezed his eyes shut against Angela's embittered glare.

“And why can’t you believe that I know what’s best for you?” he countered wearily.

“Because you’re not thinking about me, Dad!” She stomped her foot indicating her own frustration with the situation. “I'm not stupid! It took me a minute to figure it out, but I'm certain now that you’re doing this because of Mom! This is about you and my mother. You’re drawing parallels between you and Mom and me and Shawn that don’t exist. Maybe you’ve even come to think that you’re doing him a favor because like mother, like daughter,” she sneered, throwing up her hands, “because I’ll leave him for greener pastures or to find myself. But I’m not gonna need greener pastures—in the form of some rich guy to rescue me—and I won’t need to find out who I really am because I’m. not. my. mother! I’m going to succeed in life with my goals in tact. And unlike you, Shawn supports me one hundred percent. You think he's gonna try to hold me back like you did Mom, but he's not! Shawn's not intimidated by my ambition.”

Silence awkwardly settled itself heavily over every inch of the room and its combatants. Alvin Moore’s lips twisted and his face seemed as though it was etched in steel, its lines hard and unyielding. The only sign he gave of the disquiet he was feeling was the audible swallowing of the lump in his throat.

He hadn’t known until just then that Angeline had talked to their daughter about them, about giving up college to follow him around the world. How else could she have known that he’d discouraged his wife from continuing her education after Angela was born? That he’d been afraid she’d outgrow him, and he’d lose her. That he’d always been afraid of losing the bright light that had been his high school sweetheart, the girl he’d known he wanted to spend the rest of his life with to her high intelligence, thirst for knowledge and…her ambition.

Pre-marital sex, an unplanned pregnancy, and a hasty marriage later, Alvin had joined the army to provide for his teenaged bride and forth coming child. Still, none of that been enough to stop the fulfillment of his fears. It had only served to postpone the inevitable. After thirteen years of marriage, Angeline, frustrated and miserable, had left her family to find herself, to pursue lost dreams, long buried under the rubble of her unhappy marriage, but not completely forgotten. Never forgotten, just postponed, and festering below the surface like an unhealed sore.

She’d left Angela with him because she didn’t want to uproot her and take from Alvin for whom their daughter was the only thing he’d have left by which to remember her. Angela was the only thing that had justified or had made any sense of their life together. Yet in spite of all the promises she’d made her pre-teen daughter, neither Angela or Alvin had heard from her in the five years since the divorce had become final, and she announced, via a phone call, her re-marriage to a wealthy businessman.

With these thoughts swirling around in his head, Alvin moved to stand in front of Angela, looking down into her angry visage from his advanced height. His anger drained from him, leaving behind only sadness and exhaustion.

“I’ve made mistakes; that’s true,” he conceded, slowly, the sadness evident in his voice, “but when you’re older you’ll understand—”

“I don’t need to be older,” she cut in aggressively. “I understand perfectly right now.”

“Angela—” he beseeched her. He extended a hand but when she refused to take it, he let it drop to his side.

She shook her head. “No, Dad. You’re ruining my life because of the mess you and Mom made of your relationship.” She paused but her father’s grimace didn’t stop her from continuing. “I may not be able to see Shawn, but I still love him. Him, Dad! So you can stop sicking Ted on me. I’m not gonna date him.”

Alvin crossed his beefy arms at this show of defiance. “Well, that’s too bad, Angela, because he’s the only way you’ll get to the Prom next week.” Angela’s eyes widened. “You’re not going stag with Topanga. I’ve arranged it all right down to the limousine and your corsage.

As she gaped at him, he strode across the expansive living room floor. “Since you’re not hungry and neither am I anymore, I’m going upstairs to work,” he said as he placed one foot on the bottom step of the stairs. “I’ll be in my office if you decide you want to talk about all of this in a rational manner.”

She stood there alone, stunned by this additional piece of outrageousness. Of all the interfering, manipulative control freaks, her father had to be the reigning king, she fumed.

This new piece of meddling with Ted as her date, meant that she wouldn’t even be able to dance or spend any meaningful time with Shawn, a circumstance she was certain her father had cooked this up to ensure. Soon, she was trembling with rage, hurt and all the loneliness she’d locked away since her mother’s abandonment. To her, her mother had left her just as surely as she’d left her father in spite of her assurances otherwise, because once free of him, she’d never looked back. The estrangement with Shawn, the only person she'd let get that close to her other than her father since that time, had dredge up those feelings she'd suppressed, bringing them close to the surface. Now, they all converged on her with a vengeance.

After a few more moments had passed, she spun around and ran up the stairs, slamming her door and locking it. She stood with her back pressed up against as tears poured from her eyes. Angry tears of hate which lent added sparkle to eyes that were already glinting with determination and the rudiments of an idea. Her father thought he was so clever, this same man who’d help to drive his own wife away. This stubborn man whose refusal to see what was before his eyes then and now who was causing so much unnecessary heartache.

She’d show him. Angela dashed away her angry tears and pushed away from the door to make her preparations. She ruthlessly suppressed the pang of conscious concerning what she was going to do, consoling herself with the knowledge that her father wouldn’t expect anything less of her. After all, as far as he was concerned, she was her mother’s daughter.

~*~

Although it was only a little after nine o’clock on a Thursday night, Shawn lay in bed, his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, a circle of light from his bedside lamp turning the expanse of white into a cone of gold just above his head. Sinister shadows were thrown into stark relief in the corners, setting a somber quality that matched his melancholy mood.

He’d had a hard tense day at school. Surprisingly, the difficulty hadn’t stemmed in anyway from academics. For once, he’d felt really good about the finals he’d taken that week.

No, his main problem lay with his personal life and Angela. He could feel her eyes following, hurt and questioning whenever they were in proximity to each other. He groaned as he remembered her face when she’d asked him once again if they couldn’t at least meet at Topanga’s or somewhere they could be alone for just a little while, and he’d told her no. Then when he’d hurried away because the urge to throw caution to the winds and comfort her was too strong he could feel her despondency coming behind him in a tidal wave.

He’d realized tardily that in spite of their situation or maybe because of it that she was being to think that he was fooling around with other girls. Something he hadn’t even considered much less done. His mind was filled with Angela nearly twenty-four seven. She was irreplaceable. No other girl had a chance. But that didn’t stop them from ignoring his rebuffs, which had progressed from subtle to overt, with their blatant and constant overtures. With the constant flood of girls in his orbit, he knew that to a casual spectator it seemed like he was always with a different girl except when he was in class. And Angela’s studied gaze was nowhere near casual. Her accusing looks weren’t helping him cope well or helping him stick to his plan. If something didn’t change soon, he was going to lose his mind.

Between Ted’s spying, Angela’s growing jealousy and these brazen girls’ unwillingness to leave him alone, the last few weeks of his senior year at John Adams High would forever be remembered as some of the worst of his life. Angela meant everything to him and her unhappiness more so than his own was killing him. But he had to be strong or forfeit their plan of going to college together. The possibility of their being together in the very near future was the only thing keeping him strong. That and a nightly lecture—thinly veiled as a pep talk—from Jack, that is.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of going around in circles with his thoughts, sleep began to over take Shawn, his active brain so exhausted that it willingly shut down for the duration of the night. Within minutes, he was asleep and in the grip of a very vivid dream in which Angela was longer mad at him but was whispering her love in his ear, pressing her soft lips to his in apology for being jealous. Her hands reinforced her words, traveling over his chest, running down over his flat abdomen and eventually plunging under the elastic waist band of his shorts to caress and tease him into hardness.

Reciprocally, his hands were seeking her body, the warm flesh that he’d so long denied himself. They roamed up her silky thighs, over the curve of her hips and cupping the tender, rounded flesh of her supple ass. He moaned and gripped it harder. Tender kisses were being placed on his lips and then a warm tongue slid into his mouth causing him to moan louder with pleasure as he returned the sweet massage with his own tongue. It felt so good, and he could feel himself growing and hardening even more.

Consciousness returned slowly as breathless moans, low and guttural, penetrated the veil of slumber. Shawn’s heavy lids lifted when the moans grew louder and hoarse panting sounded above his head. He tilted them upwards, saw Angela with her neck arched into his pillow, her lips parted as kittenish mewls escaped them, felt his body on top of her pliant one, and then belatedly he realized that his mouth was full of chocolate nipple and areola. He pulled his lips away and a small pop sounded as it slid from his mouth. He recoiled in shock.

“Ahhhh!” he howled and flipped off his bed as he rolled off of her in his haste to get away. Disoriented by sleepiness and confusion, he haphazardly scrambled to his feet and stumbled over to the wall. With his back pressed tightly against the cold surface, he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his hazy vision and even foggier mind, and stared at Angela. She was naked except for a lacy red babydoll that covered one breast while the other side was bunched under the cocoa-hued orb, and a pair of lacy red boy shorts. Black high heeled sandals covered her feet.  Where the hell had she gotten those things, his mind screamed illogically even as his heart beat so hard in his chest that it hurt. It thundered in his ears with the rhythmic fury of a tom tom. His questing lungs compelled him to gulp the air in a desperate effort to force feed breath into them.

“Wha-how did you get in here?” He knuckled his eyes still unable to completely believe that she was really there and that this was no dream. In fact, it was a nightmare. He glanced around hastily and saw that he was still in his room with a flood of relief. Not that it mattered. Her father was going to kill him!

Removing her babydoll completely, Angela swung her legs over the side of his bed and began to sashay over to him, he looked down at himself and was somewhat relieve to his see that was at least was still clothed in his boxers and crew necked tee shirt.

“A-Angela, what do you think you’re d-doing?”

“Well, to answer your first question,” she began as she tilted her head, still in pursuit mode. “Eric let me in. I told him that it was an emergency.”

A decidedly predatory gleam showed in her dark eyes as she drew nearer. Shawn suddenly knew how defenseless prey felt. He tried to burrow deeper into the wall as she continued her slow approach. Her legs seemed a mile long in black high heeled sandals and gartered black nylons. He wanted to avert his eyes elsewhere, but they wouldn’t cooperate. They rebelliously drank in the tantalizing sights even as he protested.

“B-Baby, this is a very bad idea.” Catastrophically bad, he thought as beads of perspiration sprang up on his face and arms, especially since he hadn’t deflated that much in spite of the initial shock. His body was still humming with longing, aching for the taste of pleasures hinted at and so ruthlessly snatched away.

“Don’t come any closer,” Shawn pleaded with her weakly.

“Don’t you want me?” Angela purred coquettishly. Knowing the answer, she didn’t even bother to look down.

He took a steadying breath but didn’t reply. Knowing that the question was rhetorical—it had to be—he kept trying to make himself apart of the wall.

“I’m not going to let my Dad ruin us, Shawn. He’ll see that he can’t control my life.” An edge had entered her voice, yet she sensuously pressed herself against him. Her lips were open on his neck, soft and nibbling while her small hands began a slow descent down his stomach to their target.

Shit! Shawn thought nervously, she obviously didn’t understand. He could continue where he’d left off and do all the things to her that he’d been dreaming of for months, but that would be all they’d have. And then the most wonderful girl he’d ever known would be shipped across the country and out of his reach perhaps forever. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t lose another person he truly loved and who loved him. He simply had to avert that disaster. The thought of losing Angela permanently gave Shawn the strength he needed to ignore the throbbing in his loins screaming at him to get his release, rejecting everything his head was insisting he do.

Pealing her off of him, Shawn grabbed her arm and dragged her over to where her bra lay on the bed. Behind him, Angela struggled, eventually managing to jerk her arm from his clasp.

“I’m not a child, Shawn,” she protested angrily, “and I won’t let you treat me like I am anymore than I’ll let my father treat me like one.”

“We’re not doing this, Angela,” he said firmly. As he picked up the babydoll, he spied her grey suede coat on the floor next to the bed. He scooped it up and threw it around her.

She contrarily tossed it off.

On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.

Shawn was so frustrated that he slammed the coat to the floor.

“Stop doing that!” he shouted causing Angela to jump. “Dammit, Angela! This isn't helping!"

He was fuming. His nerves were shredded at this point. The whole situation seemed surreal, but he was trying this best not to give in to his carnal nature. His very strong carnal nature.

Angela was staring at him, tears welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Her arms crept up to cover her chest as if suddenly feeling exposed. She turned her back to him, her lip caught between her teeth as she tried to steady its trembling.

Taking advantage of her surprise, he quickly picked up the coat and draped it over her shoulder, letting his hands rest on top of the coat.

“Angela—”

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffed.

“You shouldn’t be. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re so beautiful, baby.”

She shook her head and released a shaky breath. “Then why are you rejecting me, Shawn?” Her voice wobbled unsteadily. “You’ve wanted this for months.”

Shawn groaned and tightened his grip on her shoulders and pulled her to his chest.

“I know what I wanted, Angela, and I’m not rejecting you, baby,” he repeated. “I couldn’t.”

“Then if that’s true, then what is it?” He could feel some of her body’s stiffness relax under his hands. She allowed herself to sink back onto his chest as she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him.

“I'm doing this for us, Angela! Our having sex isn’t going to exactly help our case with your Dad, honey,” he murmured against her ear. “You’ve got to go back home tonight. As soon as possible.”

“No, I want to stay here with you. I-I want us to be together.”

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. “I want us to be together, too, baby. In every sense of the word,” he stressed, “when the time is right. This isn’t the time.” He turned her to face him. “I don’t want to be with you for any other reason then that it’s right, and it’s what we both want.”

“Then this is the time, Shawn,” she cooed, leaning into him slightly, her look earnest. “I’m here for no other reason. I want you. It’s as simple as that.”

He stared down into her deep brown eyes. He thought he had never seen a girl with prettier eyes than Angela. It wasn’t just the color, the richness, but the intelligence and the spectrum of emotions that showed within their depths. He could see clear through them into her heart as easily as he could see through a transparent pane of glass. They were truly the windows to her soul. And unbeknownst to their owner, they were speaking to him now.

“Baby, I wish I could believe that, but I don’t,” he said slowly.

Angela opened her mouth.

“Did you have a fight with your father?” Shawn asked before she could speak, his head cocked to the side. “Did he do something else that you haven’t told me about?” His blue eyes probed hers almost as if silently willing her to be honest with him.

She opened her mouth to lie, but it died on her lips. In other circumstances, she’d have been thrilled at this evidence of their closeness and how in tune they were to one another. How easily he could read her because he’d invested the time to get to know her, her moods and her expressions. But at that moment, it was an annoying inconvenience—a threat to her plans.

“We may have had…words,” she equivocated with what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, “but that’s nothing new here lately.” Angela pushed away from him a little. Her long lashes came down to veil her expressive eyes, but it was too late; they’d already betrayed her.

Shawn sighed. He had his answer. His right hand raked his thick chestnut brown hair. He didn’t quite have the guts to tell her what he knew had to be done. Lying and deception weren’t going to produce anything but more trouble. He was taking a gamble, a huge risk, but he had to see the course he’d set play out. He had to see it through even if Angela didn’t understand and possibly hated him for it in the short term, he reminded himself. He was playing for bigger stakes, and one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, she’d understand that and acknowledge the wisdom of his decision. Besides, he had a bad feeling about tonight’s escapade: the one that always came before the swift kick in his teeth. His sense of impending disaster was unerring, and so he had to do what he had to do.

He looked down into her trustful eyes. His eyes effortlessly slid down to her breasts before hurriedly rising to her face. He gently pulled the coat’s lapels together.

“Did you bring any other clothes with you?” He’d looked around but didn’t see any other articles of clothing except a few of his own strewn around the room in strategic places.

Angela shook her head. “No, I came in just this. I thought it would help me not to lose my nerve, and it did.”

“Okay,” Shawn breathed with resignation. He left go of the coat, and giving her a wide berth, went around her to get to his dresser from which he removed an oversized Phillies baseball jersey. He ducked into his closet before walking back to her with blue jeans, a brown belt and flip flops all of which he handed to her along with the jersey.

“Baby, I want you to get dressed,” he told her levelly. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

His demeanor calm on the outside, he laid a sweet kiss on her brow and left her alone, yet his heart was sinking and he struggled with fear as the vague inkling that had encouraged his question solidified into certainty as he closed his bedroom door. Sergeant Moore must have upped the ante in his quest to keep them apart.

Majorly frustrated, Shawn grabbed his head and paced in a small circle in the living room, his eyes deliberately avoiding the black cordless phone that sat so inoffensively in its base. Her father had to have done something so egregious that it caused Angela to act out. She knew as well as he did that she wasn’t ready for a sexual relationship, especially given their current problems with her father. Shawn was sure that whatever Sergeant Moore had done had driven Angela to this: a wholly misguided attempt at a nocturnal seduction.

And as tempted as he'd been, Shawn wasn't ready for this side of their relationship either. Not like this, anyway. He wanted their first time to be about their love and not about Angela’s revenge on her father. He couldn’t allow one of the most important events of their lives and their relationship to be reduced to a petty middle finger to her overbearing parent. So even though he hated what he was about to do so, he knew he had no other recourse. He had to make the call and hope that Angela would understand.

Before he could change his mind, Shawn grabbed the black receiver, punched in the numbers, held the rectangular antennaed object to his ear and let it ring.

~*~

Alvin Moore couldn’t sleep. He hated the way he and Angela had left things earlier, so he left his bed and went to her door. He wouldn’t wake her but he needed to see her sweet face, peaceful and calm. He hadn’t seen her that way since this whole business with Hunter had started.

Avoiding the weak spots that creaked in the hallway floor, he gingerly made his way to her room, flicking light switch to the sconce located across from her door, and opened her door. A cone of light was cast across her bed. Alvin smiled to see his daughter resting peacefully, after the tempest of their argument. He moved closer to pull down the cover she had drawn over her head so that he could see her face. The face that reminded him of his wife but instead he looked down on the head of her life sized teddy bear, its black button eyes staring up at him.

His smile evaporated and he yanked the covers back, exposing the rest of the large stuffed animal. After a stunned moment or two, Alvin strode back to his room, throwing on clothes in a haphazard manner. He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the bottom. He flicked the switch on the wall opposite the stairs, and the living room was flooded with light. Then striding over to the console table, he grabbed his keys from it and turned to leave when he realized that he didn’t know where Hunter lived. That was where his missing daughter was, of that he had no doubt. His mouth tightened angrily until it occurred to him that he could get his address from the phone listings. He was reaching under the console to the ledge underneath where the latest phone book lay nestled between two coffee table books and a couple of thick fashion magazines when the phone rang.

Alvin almost ignored it, but something told him to answer. Pushing his impatience aside, he picked up and got the second shock of the night.

~*~

Shawn entered his bedroom to find Angela sleeping in the spot where he’d lain earlier. He moved to stand near her, looking down into her peaceful sweet face with a mixture of relief and regret. He’d come to tell her what he’d done. Although he could use her slumber as a legitimate excuse to delay the explanation, he stood conflicted and torn.

He watched her greedily, his light blue eyes darkening with emotion as they swept over her precious form. Her legs were bent at the knees in a modified fetal position. Her long eyelashes fanned down, almost giving the impression of dark half circles under her eyes. With her lips slightly parted, her left hand was positioned beneath one cheek while the other trailed over the side of the bed. He placed her hand on the bed and sat down beside her. The mattress sank with his weight, but she didn’t awaken. No, that would have been too easy. The decision would have been made for him. This way he’d have to do it himself and fully accept the consequences of his actions.

So he sucked in a deep breath, mustered up his courage, and gently leaned forward to kiss her awake. He knew that he was breaking his own prohibition on displays of physical affection between them, but he felt that he owed himself something. He was due just this little bit of heaven before going back into his own private hell of loneliness and insecurity.

Angela’s mouth moved against his as she stirred and slowly awakened, her eyes opening just as he lifted his head. His lips curved into a tender smile.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

She looked confused for a moment, but memory quickly returned bringing with it an answering smile.

“Hey.”

He took the hand he’d put on the bed a mere minutes ago, caressing it her palm with his thumb before jumping into the fray. He didn’t have long before the explanation for his actions would be rendered moot. But before he could come out and say it, Angela rushed into speech.

“I know you want me to leave, Shawn,” she confessed. “You don’t have to say it. I—I just…I don’t want to leave like this.” She looked down at her hand clasped within his, hoping against hope that he’d changed his mind and wanted her to stay.

Her statement distracted him as he thought of something else that hadn’t been addressed. He looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes.

“Did you get the bus here?” Although he was trying to be gentle and not upset her anymore than she already was while maintaining the delicate balance between them, he feared her reply just might send him over the edge again. Angela traveling on public transportation with only a coat between her half-naked and public exposure to the pervs that undoubtedly populated it at night wasn’t something he could think about with any equanimity. Unconsciously, he held his breath.

Thankfully, Angela shook her head, sending her dusky ringlets into motion while raising herself on one elbow.

“I had to talk to someone, and so I called Topanga to let her know what I was going to do. She told me if I didn’t let her bring me, she’d tell my Dad.” She shrugged, adding, “I couldn’t have her do that, so I came with her.”

Shawn sighed with relief. Thank God for small mercies, he thought as he breathed again, and Topanga. Although she was still messing with his best friend’s head bad, he now owed her one.

Nodding, and with that out of the way, he swallowed and tried to get the conversation back on track. “Honey, I-I have something to tell you, but I want you to promise that you won’t get mad.”

His grip on her hand tightened, and Angela looked up from the bundle of hands to his face warily.

“Okay, here goes,” Shawn croaked from between dry lips. The inside of his mouth was dry, too. “You have to go home.”

Before he could get the rest of what he’d been going to say out, she cut him off.

Angela sighed, disappointed that he still wanted her to leave. But she tried to push it aside, and put a good face on it.

“I can’t get Topanga mixed up in this any further, Shawn. Besides, she’s already gone to bed. How am I supposed to get home?” A hopeful expression adorned her face. “Do you think Jack might loan you his car so you could drop me off? Then I could just sneak into the house without my Dad being any the wiser.”

“Jack’s on a date, and he doesn’t have classes until late tomorrow afternoon,” Shawn explained automatically. “From past knowledge, I’d say it’s going to be really late by the time he gets in. It’s after twelve o’clock now.”

“Then how about Eric’s—”

“Angela,” he cut in, raising his voice a bit to be heard over hers, “…just…just be quiet. Please,” he said agitatedly. He cleared his throat. “I-I called your Dad. He’ll p-probably be here in a—in a few minutes.”

It took a few seconds for her to process his words as Angela just stared at him when she suddenly catapulted up from the bed, almost knocking Shawn to the floor in her haste, as though she’d been shot out of a cannon.

“Oh my God!” Two brown hands flew to her hot face. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.

“Now, baby, don’t get upset!” he pleaded.

She was gazing at him with wrathfully incredulity. “Shawn, how could you?” she yelled at him. “How could you do that? I trusted you!”

“Angela…baby, calm down,” he urged, placing his hands on her arms. He began chaffing them in a manner designed to sooth. “I didn’t have any other choice.”

“What?” she screeched, shaking him off. Her hands made their way to her hips. “How can you say that? How can you explain going behind my back like that?”

“It-It was the right thing to do. I feel it in my gut.”

“I’d like you to feel something else in your gut, Shawn Patrick Hunter! First, you reject me and make me feel like a complete loser, and then you rat me out to my Dad? Unbelievable!” his girlfriend said from between clenched white teeth.

“Baby...honey, he already knew you were gone,” he ventured, his tone wheedling as he attempted to pacify her. "I caught him just as he was about to come storming over here."

Angela ignored him. She shouldered past him, grabbed her coat from the foot of the bed and kept going until she was at the door.

"C'mon Angela! Don't be like this!" Shawn said, going after her.

Deaf to his pleas, she threw the door open so violently that it banged against the wall as she stomped away.

Shawn followed her out, but before he could even step off the last stair, the doorbell rang signalling the arrival of her father and effectively ending any chance he had of making headway with his seething girlfriend.

As he passed her, he heard a muffled sob or maybe it was a growl, but she had her back to him facing the couch, so he couldn’t be sure since he couldn’t see her face. It was probably for the best. Feeling guilty, he trudged over to the door. Opening it, just as he’d expected, Angela’s father, in sneakers, blue jeans and a white tee shirt with a dark brown trench coat worn rather haphazardly, stood on the other side of the threshold.

“I’m here for my daughter,” Alvin announced shortly.

Unenthusiastically, Shawn stepped back and waved him inside.

Alvin saw Angela standing with her back to them, and crossed the room to her, taking the closet hand that was held to her face in his. He gazed down into her miserable, tear stained face and bit back the chastisement he’d been about to deliver.

“We’re going to talk about this at home, Angela.” He looked her over. “Do you have all your things?”

Angela nodded and turned to go with her father. As they passed by Shawn who was still at the door, she didn’t look at him or say anything.

“Angela, I’m sorry. I love you.”

She stopped just over the threshold, but didn’t turn around. “I hate you, Shawn. Don’t ever speak to me again.” She left her father to go stand by the elevator.

Alvin Moore looked at his daughter’s rigid form and turned back to Shawn. He looked down at the boy who was leaning against the doorjamb his blue eyes on Angela. They were sorrowful and full of longing.

He started to say something but deciding against it went to join Angela, shaking his head. Shawn continued to watch father and daughter stand side by side apparently in one accord in their hate for him now until the elevator opened and both got on. Sighing heavily, he pushed away from the side of the casement, stepping back inside before closing and locking it. He turned off the lights and headed for his room.

Once there, Shawn threw himself down on the bed. The faint scent of Angela’s perfume rose up to tantalize his nostrils. He turned his head into his pillow where the fragrance was even stronger. Sleep eluding him, Shawn lay awake wondering, not for the first time, where this mess with Angela was going to end and if he was still going to have his sanity or Angela when the dust finally settled.