Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1) by Babette Jongh (inspiring books for teens txt) 📗

no right to be angry. Ian had never claimed to love me. He had never mentioned monogamy. My expectations weren’t Ian’s fault. He had never promised anything. The fault here was entirely my own. I should have known better than to expect anything from him just because we’d made love.

Correction; had sex.

Ben chafed my arms to help me stay warm. “I’m sorry you had to see him with another woman.”

“He left a message on my machine this morning. Said, ‘something came up.’ Now I know exactly what came up, don’t I?”

“I’m so sorry, Angel.” Ben ran a hand down my arm. “I’m really sorry.”

“Who could blame him? My God. Did you see that woman?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said a little too heartily. “I saw her.”

“You jerk.” I balled up my fist and punched his shoulder. But he wasn’t the one I really wanted to hit.

“Ow!” Ben rubbed his shoulder, being dramatic. I hadn’t hit him that hard. “What did I do?” he said. “I’m not the one who—”

“Yes, you were,” I snapped. Maybe I did want to hit him, after all. “You were the first one who jilted me for someone else. You just weren’t the last.”

And then I started crying.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Ben pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms around me. “All men are jerks.”

“And assholes.” I tried to wipe my eyes without smearing my mascara. “Assholes and buttheads.”

“Idiots,” Ben supplied. “Idiots and imbeciles, the whole lot of us.”

“What’s wrong with me?” I wailed, falling directly into the pit of self-pity and wallowing there. “Why can’t I find someone who will love me?”

“Everybody loves you, Angel.” Ben rocked me gently in his arms. “You know they do.”

“That’s not what I mean.” I gave him another thump on the arm. He’d be black-and-blue in the morning, and I didn’t give a shit.

“Well, how about this, you little witch.” His voice turned rough, and so did his hands. He tangled his fingers in my hair and tilted my face toward his. “I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

Then Ben kissed me the way he hadn’t kissed me since Melody took him for herself.

I opened my mouth to his, learning again the taste and texture of his tongue. Strong emotions swirled together in a brew as heady and confusing as Long Island Iced Tea.

Ben laid me back, my dress rode up, and the rough blanket scratched my bare legs. The mist-heavy air slid cold fingers along my exposed skin. I let him kiss me, and I kissed him back, trying hard not to compare him to Ian, or to the Ben I’d known so many years ago.

Back then, I’d made the mistake of thinking I could maintain a relationship without giving up anything. With Ian, I’d made the mistake of thinking if I gave up everything—my body, my heart—the relationship I craved would follow.

I’d been so accommodating, hadn’t I? Too accommodating.

Ben’s long legs tangled with mine on the scratchy blanket. He was taller than he had been when we were teenagers. Taller, heavier, less rangy, more muscular. We didn’t fit together the same way we had back then.

This was not the Ben I’d fallen in love with.

“No.” I wedged my arms between us and pushed at his shoulders. “Stop.”

Immediately, he pulled away. He sat up, ran his hands through his hair. I sat up, too, and reached out to smooth down the silky strands, but it was a lost cause. The humidity made the loose curls of his perpetually too-long hair tighten into little spirals.

“I’m sorry,” we both said at the same time.

Ben covered my mouth with his fingers. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, not tonight. Coming here was a bad idea.”

I took his hand in both of mine and held tight. “I needed you to try, even if I did say no.”

“I meant it when I said I still love you.” His eyes were soft, his voice even softer. “I never stopped.”

“I love you, too, Ben.” I put my hands on his shoulders and looked him in the face. “Always have, always will.” A vision flashed through my mind of the two of us as we’d been in the third grade, sitting cross-legged behind the alphabet chart stand, taking turns reading to each other. “But you’re not the same person you were all those years ago. Neither am I. We can’t take up where we left off. If we start anything, we have to start slow. I don’t think either of us can stand another broken heart.”

Ben pressed his forehead to mine. “Have you always been this smart?”

“I used to think so.” I chuckled, though I wondered if I’d ever feel like laughing again during this lifetime. “But now, I’m fairly certain that I’m dumb as dirt.”

*

The rain continued after Ben dropped me off at home, a persistent gray drizzle that perfectly matched my mood. The skies cried, and I cried along with them.

I was getting ready for bed when the phone rang. I had already convinced myself Ian wouldn’t call. When he did, I didn’t pick up. Partly because I was still mad, hurt, and grieving. Mostly, I didn’t pick up because my nose was so stuffy from crying. I knew I’d sound horrible and I didn’t want Ian to know how badly he’d hurt me. He left a cheery message in his damn Scottish accent, saying how much he’d missed seeing me today.

Arrogant playboy bastard.

I should have known he was out of my league when I first met him. Ian was no boy-scout. He probably didn’t even realize he’d done anything wrong, and I wasn’t going to be the one to inform him that it just wasn’t right to keep two women on a string. No way would I let him see how much he’d hurt me.

I turned on the TV, watched an infomercial about vacuum cleaners, inhaled an entire party-size bag of Tostitos and killed what was left of yesterday’s bottle of Cabernet.

Ian called again an hour or so later. I wadded