Page 100 of Whirlwind

For now, she reminded herself that she didn’t need to have any expectations. That’s what this whole move was about. Resetting, taking a break, and letting things happen at their own pace. She wasn’t used to not knowing what she wanted, but surely, when she found it she’d be ready to grab it.

Tonight, though, was just beers and burgers with friends, and she was running late.

Angel quickly changed from her skirt-suit into a red dress that clung to her shoulders and flared around her legs. It was short, but not too short, and she paired it with some heeled sandals for the summer weather. Spritzing her hair and adding a bit of shimmer to her eyes for an evening out took only a couple more minutes. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, but she liked to look good.

She grabbed a matching purse, noticing that there was all sorts of nonsense at the bottom, the most prominent being the receipt from the movers. She tossed the papers on a box, but left everything else inside because she couldn’t be bothered.

Just she was stepping out the door, her phone dinged and she dragged it from her purse.

It was Ben. “Hey, Ang! Did you get lost?”

“Only in my thoughts,” she admitted.

Ben was like her soul brother. They’d first met in high school, during orientation week at an elite boy’s boarding school. They’d made friends first because they were two of the handful of kids who weren’t white. Technically, Ben was half white since his dad was white, but the fucking United States just called that black.

And Angel was the product of a proud, black family whose wealth stretched back several generations, with no mention of the native and white blood that she knew was mixed in. Yeah, her snooty family did it, too.

They’d bonded first over their pretentious families and the snide comments made about their race. It had been good to have someone at your back during those tumultuous years.

But time had revealed that they had much more in common. When Ben realized he was gay and Angel’s gender dysphoria started to become too much, they told each other first. Ben had gone with her to the queer health center to get hormones prescribed, and stood by her side after college graduation when she told her parents. These were gifts that she knew she could never repay.

And now he’d found her a new job and a ready-made group of friends. She was in his debt.

“Well, come on out!” he continued. “Everyone’s already at Whirlwind and we’re waiting for you.”

Someone shouted into the phone. “Hi, Angel!”

“Which one was that?” she asked.

“That’s Parker. Dakota has a higher voice.”

“Hi, Angel!” someone else called toward the phone, Dakota presumably. It felt good that they were excited to see her. They shouted something else, but it was hard to make out.

Ben’s response came in loud and clear, though. “Are you trying to earn a spanking or are you just naturally disobedient?” He sounded stern, but Angel could hear the adoration in his tone. If only she could be that lucky.

Not that she wanted Ben. They’d tried kissing each other once in high school, which was a moment better forgotten. They were much more successful at seducing eager boys up to their dorm room for a few hours of illicit blowjobs. Watching a boy on his knees, trying desperately to please them both while they gave conflicting commands, had been hot.

Some of those well-groomed boys in their polos and boat shoes were kinky as fuck.

Ben must have been reading her mind because the next thing he said brought her right back there. “Oh, I almost forgot. Remember Channing Westerfield?”

Images came back in flashes, true memory indistinguishable from the hundreds of times that she’d relived those moments in her adolescent fantasies. That beautiful, glorious boy, so skinny and pale and absolutely worshipful at her feet.

She could still almost feel Channing’s delicate skin growing red under her pinching fingers. Channing watching her with those adoring, needy eyes. Channing with his schoolboy tie askew and hair impossibly mussed by her hands. Channing with his wrists trapped in her hands, his pulse racing under her lips.

Channing, the first time he’d unzipped her pants and discovered the lacy panties under her uniform. He looked like he’d seen God.

She’d been head over heels for him at the time, but now she hadn’t thought of him in years. Mostly.

“What about him?” Ben knew she’d had a thing for him. But she doubted he realized how deep it ran.

“She’s going by Nina now. And we might see her at Whirlwind tonight.”

He said something else after that, but she hardly heard it. Saving her a seat or something.

“I’ll be there in a few,” she finally managed.

“Sounds good,” Ben replied.