Request: Can you do a cute how you meet for Angel? Maybe he’s seen you around town and finally says hey but you shoot him down
A/N: a short one, but it’s been a while since I posted for this one :)
Sliding the crumpled twenty across the countertop, Angel sinks onto the only available stool. He reaches up to adjust the collar of his flannel shirt, before resting his arms against the counter. The space is packed, each booth and table filled with people attempting to unwind after a long day of work. He’s been sent in to pick up an order and take it back to the clubhouse.
His eyes scan the room, a smile spreading across his face once he finds what he is searching for.
Tucked away in the back corner, with a plate of half-eaten fries and a tackled chocolate milkshake, you are staring out the window. The textbook, propped open against the napkin holder, is accompanied by a notebook and a stack of worn out flashcards. Your brow is furrowed, the highlighter in your hand twirling through your fingers as you take in the group of girls across the street.
Dressed perfectly for the blazing California sun, their shorts and crop tops attract the eyes of the young men sitting casually against their bikes. One reaches forward to run her fingers down the front of one of the men’s leather kutte, her head falling back in laughter at whatever he has said. Your eyes are rolling before you can stop them.
It is a sight you’ve become accustomed to in the past few weeks. The diner is not new. It has been around for as long as you can remember. You’d spent each afternoon and evening waitressing here after school when you were in high school. Now working on your residency, you find that you are the one being served. The free milkshakes you’d been granted the key to your successful study sessions.
The bikers. They were new.
For the past two weeks, they’d parked across the street disappearing into the crowd of the town square. And each time they did, they attracted girls whose laughter could somehow drift through the windows and disrupt your concentration.
Shaking your head, you readjust your position in the booth preparing to refocus on the textbook in front of you. Instead, you find yourself reaching forward to catch it as the shift in the table causes it to fall forward.
Catching it, you glance up to find who is responsible for disrupting your set up.
Your brow furrows as you take in the very familiar faded leather cut. Your eyes linger on the tattoos, the recently sewn-on patch, and the easy smile before landing on the brown eyes taking in your features.
“Figured you could use a refill.”
Offering up the fresh milkshake in his hands, Angel places his take away bag aside before sliding the milkshake across the table.
“Double chocolate, extra whip, right?” he adds the cheese-eating grin on his face way cuter up close than you wanted it to be.
You recognize him. He’s usually the one who has the girls outside eating out the palm of his hand. You can only imagine how many hearts that smile, now directed towards you, have broken. Probably not nearly as many as the playful brown eyes that meet yours.
You stare at the double chocolate milkshake, topped with extra whip cream and a cherry, watching as Angel slips a straw inside. Your brow furrows as you take in his pride for getting the order right.
Instead of reaching for the glass, you pull your textbook closer.
“Is that supposed to be impressive?” You ask, the casualness of your tone dampening his smile.
Angel shifts in his seat.
“I’ve seen you order it a couple of times.” He explains, your lack of interest in him causing Angel to squirm. If it weren’t for the tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lips he might have broken out into a sweat.
You allow your eyes to lift from your textbook before leaning forward slightly. Your nose scrunches as you drop your voice to a whisper.
“It’s kinda creepy, don’t you think?” You pose the question, watching as Angel glances at the milkshake. “You’ve been watching what I order? I haven’t even seen you around here before.”
Now it’s Angel’s turn to smile. Only his isn’t tiny. It’s wide, reaching his playful eyes, and full of confidence.
He knew that was the farthest from the truth. Just as you’d grown accustomed to seeing him and the boys across the street, he’d grown accustomed to seeing through the window. The way your focus always briefly drifted to him through the glass, your eyes meeting his before returning to your task at hand.
Even though he doesn’t challenge your words, you find a warmth rushing to your face as you backtrack.
“It’s hard not to notice you when your bike is so freaking loud.” You challenge, his grin causing you to roll your eyes. “It’s impossible to concentrate.”
You both knew the former wasn’t necessarily true. It wasn’t the bike that was distracting.
Your eyes pass over the takeaway bag on the edge of the table before you point to your milkshake.
“Well. Thank you for the milkshake, but I don’t want to hold you up,” you respond.
“It’s just for my little brother,” Angel shrugs. “He can wait.”
“As much as I love making pretty girls smile-”
“Let me guess,” you sigh resting your chin in your hand, your eyes meeting his. “This milkshake and your compliments don’t come for free?”
Angel’s eyes study yours for a moment. He backtracks.
“They do.” A smile quickly spreads across his face as your brow arches in disbelief. “Accept them as an apology-”
His chuckle is a sound that makes you smile.
Angel absentmindedly plays with the straw wrapper, before glancing back at you. The sheepish look on his face a stark contrast to the smile he’d given you just a few minutes before.
“I came over here to see if you’re free Friday night,” he admits. “If you are, maybe you’d liked to let me take you somewhere?”
“Thank you,” you smile softly, the sight peaking his hopes. “It’s nice of you to ask but..no.”
Angel’s mouth had opened, ready to tell you the time and place. But as your words begin to register, his eyes widen slightly. His brow furrows, a wave of confusion washing across his face.
A tiny giggle escapes your lips at the shock in his voice. The wide brown eyes on your face cause you to bite your lip. Your eyes drop the table as you feel an unsuspecting wave of regret begin to creep over you.
Was he trying to puppy-dog eye you?
“Don’t take it too personal. I just don’t do…” Lifting your highlighter you point towards his kutte, your eyes lingering on the secretary patch stitched over his chest. “Outlaws.”
Angel follows your gaze, his hand running proudly over the patch. He shrugs before pointing out of the window to where his bike sits.
“Oh, this? It’s harmless. It’s just a motorcycle club.”
The smile on his lips grows at the rolling of your eyes.
“Since when do they let pretty boys become the secretary of motorcycle clubs?”
“I’m not a pretty boy,” he scoffs, his face scrunching at the term. His eyes take in the smile forming on your lips. He lifts his left arm from the table, stretching it out towards you, he runs his free hand over his tattoos. “I’m a total fucking badass.”
“I bet you are.” You nod. Outlining the star etched across his forearm, you shoot him a raised eyebrow. You tilt your head to the side, the action pulling peaking Angel’s brow with interest. “Tell me, Mr. Secretary…What exactly does a harmless motorcycle club do that allows you to be such a badass? I thought it was just guys showing off their bikes and picking up girls.”
A silence falls over the table as Angel holds your gaze. The grin on his face softens for a moment before he pulls his arms back. Resting against the booth, he shakes his head before nodding towards the book in front of you.
“What are you studying?” He asks as reaches forward to drag your plate of abandoned fries closer.
For a moment you don’t share. Instead, you raise your brow as you take in the sight of Angel. Arm casually draped along the back of the booth, settling in across from you as if he’d done it a hundred times.
You lift the book allowing his eyes to get a better look at the cover. The smile on his face grows.
“Anatomy.” He reads, the mischievous spark in his eyes causing you to brace for whatever is to come out of his mouth. “If you need someone to test out your knowledge on, I’m always available. I read somewhere that hands on learning is the way to go. ”
“Thanks for volunteering. I’ll be sure to remember that.”
“Yeah, well as an upstanding, law-abiding citizen,” he sighs as he pops a fry into his mouth. “I’m always looking for ways to uphold my civic duties.”
Angel nods over his shoulder.
“You usually come here to study?”
“Since I was a kid.” You can’t suppress the smiling threatening to rise as you continue. “It’s usually less crowded, and strangers let me study in peace.”
“I can do peace and quiet,” Angel assures you. The grin on his face giving him away. “I’m sure I can if it’s for you.”
“Well, you know. They say practice makes perfect.”
“Guess we’ll start practicing Friday night,” he winks as he finishes off your fries. “It’s a date.”
“It’s really not,” you respond, the giggle you release pulling Angel’s hand to his chest in mock defeat.
“Ouch, doc,” he winces as he rests dramatically against the cushion of the booth. “I thought you were supposed to fix hearts, not break them.”
“My job is to tell you how it is, no sugar coating.”
Angel slides the now empty plate out of the way before reaching across the table. He offers you his hand, a smile spreading across his lips as you accept it.
His eyes linger on your features the warmth of his touch causing you to bite your lip.
The buzzing of his phone causes his hand to release yours. Reaching into his pocket, he steals a glance out the window where Ezekiel can be seen waving for his attention.
“Alright, doc,” he sighs as he studies the message on his screen. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Important secretarial duties you gotta take care of?”
His eyes flick to yours for a moment, a lopsided grin spreading across his face as he tucks his phone back into the safety of his pocket.
“Yeah, something like that.” Angel slides out of the booth.
He pauses to slide the untouched milkshake closer to you.
“Please take this, its the least you could do after breaking my heart.”
Slipping his sunglasses out his chest pocket, Angel smiles as you accept the glass.
“Sorry for breaking your heart,” you call after him as he heads towards the door.
Leaning against the door, Angel softly shrugs.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you make it up to me, Friday when I buy you another one. Seven o’clock.”
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
snowghoul
janainaart
