Page 123 of Whirlwind

Fortunately, Angel didn’t seem to have any trouble interpreting it, though she was surprisingly halting in her answer, like she didn’t know herself. “New York was… exhausting. I had all the things I was supposed to have and it was just too much. Ben hooked me up with a job and I just… I moved. I’m here. I like the job so far, but… that’s about as far as I’ve gotten.”

“So you live here, now? You’re staying?”

“I own a house. It has some boxes in it. And a lot of bare, white walls. I don’t have any paintings for it.” Angel looked around the room, eyes alighting on all of the colorful canvases and sculptures that Nina had collected over the years.

“I can suggest some artists for you,” Nina replied. She always liked to recommend people when she could.

“You need coffee, don’t you?” Angel asked. “Is there some in the kitchen?”

Angel stood and Nina shuffled after her. Angel was still wearing just the panties that she had pulled on, and Nina would follow those perky, soft boobs anywhere. It only occurred to her when she reached the kitchen that she was naked, too.

Ugh. And everything was a mess. She would have to clean up. A lot. Especially if Angel was going to come back over.

Angel just whirled right through, though, dumping out yesterday’s coffee grounds, popping in the new filter, and setting a new pot of water to percolate.

Nina leaned against the cabinet, watching her. Angel’s movements were both graceful and efficient, like she’d studied dance at some point and knew exactly where her body was and how to move it through space in the most eloquent way possible. Nina was enraptured.

Angel found a pair of mugs and doctored them up. Nina didn’t take as much sugar in her coffee as she used to in high school, but she was touched that Angel remembered. She took the warm cup when Angel handed it to her, taking a small sip.

Ah… So much better.

Though really, there was little that was better than Angel standing mostly naked in her kitchen making her coffee.

Angel leaned against the opposite counter, facing her. “So I’ve told you what I’m doing, what are you up to?”

She probably wouldn’t have been honest, except that Angel, who had a job at a law firm and had probably been making a billion dollars in NYC, had already told her that she didn’t know what she was doing either. So she shrugged. “Not much. Waiting tables at a bar? Some secretarial work on the side? Trying to figure out my life?”

Angel pinned her with a gaze. “Are you painting, though? What about your art?”

Nina’s breath caught. Last night had been intimate, but this was personal in a different way. It was hurting and healing, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

It tumbled back memories, though, that she’d long since forgotten. She’d gotten so lost in the thrill of those illicit encounters and the heartbreak of betrayal hadn’t remembered how much Angel had supported her dreams of becoming an artist.

It had only happened twice, but as a teenager it had meant the world to her. Angel had shown up in the art studio when she was working alone, wandering in casually and touching things on the shelves, completely disrupting her concentration.

It had been distracting and confusing, and she couldn’t even figure out why her idol—the passionate and dangerous senior who tutored her in chemistry and other darker pleasures was doing there.

But then Angel had stood behind her, breath gliding over her ear, and told her how fucking talented she was. How she should fuck over all of her father’s plans and pursue it all out. Angel said that she would dedicate her life to making beauty in the world if she had even a fraction of Nina’s ability and passion.

Angel had whispered to her about how she was going to be a big name in the art circuit, or maybe reach people in a different way, as an art therapist or art teacher. Whatever she dreamed.

How the hell had she forgotten all of that?

“I do sometimes. Not very often. I have a sketchbook,” she offered. But she didn’t use it often. Being poor and uneducated had been a shock for her to figure out after her father threw her out. When she’d come into her trust fund, years after it would have really helped her, she’d been too infuriated to touch it. Instead, she’d focused on her transition, which was pretty absorbing, too, both emotionally and financially. She was finally now at a pretty stable point, but it had been a long, hard fight. She’d forgotten her other dreams so long ago.

Now that Angel said it, she missed it so much that it ached.

“You miss it, don’t you.” Angel crossed the room, pinning her against the cabinet.

Nina nodded, feeling tears close to the surface. That was twice in less than 24 hours with Angel. It was just that nobody else had asked her about her dreams. She hadn’t thought much about them herself.

“We’ll have to fix that then, won’t we?” She took the mug from Nina’s hand and set it on the counter.

It was good that the question seemed to be rhetorical, because Nina didn’t know what to say. That question, stated more as a command, implied more than even the casual dating she’d hoped for. She wanted to grab onto that offering with both hands, but she had to be cautious.

She nodded slowly, letting Angel’s palm brush across her cheek.

“What are… I mean…” She wasn’t sure how to ask the question. Angel was pressed up close to her, their hips and breasts touching, their exhalations mingling.