Can I really do this? I wonder as Angel and I head for our cars to drive to her lunch date.

It had taken everything in me to keep a straight face for the most part while in that apartment with her, to keep my hands to myself, to refrain from asking her to tell me in detail how everything’s been going since I saw her last.

I’m pretty sure I kept my eyes from going to her lips more than once; they only went there when she smiled, and that’s just because she has the most beautiful smile—everyone says so.

I also think I did a good job of hiding how furious I was about the messages from J; I hope I get to personally lay hands on the son-of-a-bitch behind all of this.

But I have a long history of containing my emotions when it comes to her.

Whenever Leonard kissed her in front of me, I had to play it cool.

Whenever my cock started growing in her presence, desire swelling in me to the point that I almost grabbed her to me, I didn’t—I kept a straight face and my hands to myself.

As far as I could tell, neither she nor her boyfriend knew how badly I wanted her.

Leonard certainly never brought it up to me, never asked me if I got hard for her, even in jest.

That Tyler brought up my attention to her at that wedding a year ago didn’t worry me too much—she looked like a doll, a lovely peach dress complementing her skin tone and showing off her assets in a classy way. I wasn’t the only one caught staring.

Up until that wedding, I had no problem squashing the way she made me feel, despite how long I’d been harboring feelings for her at that point—which was pretty much since the day I first saw her.

When we met, I thought she was beautiful but figured everyone probably had that reaction to her—she really stood out in a crowd: symmetrical face, alluring eyes, adorable smile—who didn’t fall for her a little once they saw her? Nothing unique or special was going on in my chest or groin area—Angel McDaniels was particularly inspiring.

She was welcome eye candy whenever she popped up, and I chalked up my reaction to her as being entranced by her physical beauty.

But unlike everyone else, I got to know her sense of humor, her facial expressions, and all sorts of likes and dislikes as a result of hanging out with her and Leonard. 

By the third time I saw Angel, I realized I had developed some affection for her.

I had gotten used to her positive energy, her beauty, her warm personality.

She’d started feeling like a friend, someone who accepted me as I was, regardless of my dark duties.

It had been a long time since I took to a girl that way—it was generally easier to form bonds with guys, especially in my line of work—but Angel and I just clicked; we got each other’s jokes, had the same taste in entertainment.

I started getting to know other parts of her that didn’t quite match up with her appearance and overall glow; Angel was a bit devilish—an unexpected and delightful twist.

She and I got to sharing dark articles we thought each other would enjoy, so we were in fairly regular innocent contact, mostly because no one else shared our twisted sense of humor. And apparently, she and I are the only ones in our groups who love zombie stories, so she sent me good ones.

She also referred me to good horror flicks.

Though she was kind of morbid, she was still incredibly warm. One minute she could be sending me a macabre article she knows I’ll appreciate, the next, dropping off blankets to homeless folks she can’t stop thinking about having a hard time with colder weather.

So I got to know Angel pretty well beyond her beautiful surface—the brave, inventive, good-humored chick she is. 

It wasn’t long before I realized I was falling for her, that I had gone way past appreciating her looks, her personality. Way past wondering would it would feel like to have her soft body pressed against me.

I started longing to see her, missing her way more than I should’ve missed seeing my friend’s girlfriend, but an addiction to her had started to build.

I tried to back away, to stop engaging her in texts as we exchanged entertainment material, began responding with single-word answers and links only.

I actively worked on ending fantasies before they could start, reminding myself over and over that she didn’t belong to me. I tried and failed to stop thinking that she belonged with me.

Leonard made it harder.

As my car follows Angel’s, my mind returns to a specific incident a little over a year ago.

Angel and Leonard had been together for a while, and I’d just met her some months prior.

I was on break, so I was hanging out at Leonard’s when he suddenly made a sound—sort of a derisive chuckle as he stared at his phone.

“What?” I prompted.

“Angel has plans to go out with some girlfriends tonight. Some bar or something.”

“And?”

“And that’s just not happening,” he said, still staring at his screen.

“Why? I don’t get it, dude. It’s totally normal. She has the right to go out and have fun without you.”

“Who knows what could go on? Bars and clubs are for pickups.”

“Please. Not everyone goes looking to get lucky. When last did she hang out with her friends like that? She’s young...” Don’t say ‘sexy,’ I reminded myself. Don’t say ‘pretty’ either. “...attractive. It’s just harmless fun.”

“Dancing and drinking are harmless fun?”

“You sure don’t stop yourself from any of it. Is that why? You think she’ll be like you—having a grand old time with many others?”

“You know what? This is really none of your business,” he said as he typed.

It was quiet for a few moments, then he chuckled again before turning to me.

“Hey, you wanna chill with us at Angel’s place?” he said as if our little exchange hadn’t taken place. “I told her we’re headed there, that I want to finish binge-watching this dumb show she got us started on, and that you had nothing to do and wanted to tag along. Told her to order us some pizza or something.”

“But aren’t we going to that bachelor party?”

He didn’t answer, which gave me a weird feeling.

It soon became clear what he was up to—he had every intention of standing Angel up. He wanted to stop her from having a night of fun without him so badly, he was actually lying about heading over to her place, and on top of that, making her prepare for people that weren’t coming.

“Yeah, I’ll head to the party and show my face there first,” he said.

I knew he was lying.

“You coming now or later?” he asked.

“Later,” I said, making up my mind to make sure Angel wasn’t left alone.

He shrugged and got ready to leave.

I was almost sure he’d never show up at Angel’s, and I already knew how I’d play it if he did.

When I got there, Angel greeted me and immediately looked around for him.

“He’s coming later—had to stop somewhere first. The food here yet?” I asked quickly, sickened by being pulled into Leonard’s deception.

She smiled wide and let me in, and after half an hour of waiting for Leonard to arrive while we shot the breeze, I convinced her to get something started on TV.

I was starting to fall under her spell, and I needed a distraction—I didn’t want to do anything stupid. Being alone with her felt intimate and dangerous, no matter what we were talking about.

We ended up watching two whole episodes, with her checking her phone or typing on it every now and then.

At some point, I watched her face tighten in anger after she received a text.

“What is it?” I asked, and she turned the face of her phone toward me so I could read it myself: Sorry, babe—popped by a surprise party for a friend and lost track of time.

Angel shook her head while all I could think about was how dumb Leonard was for leaving this beautiful woman behind.

“Looks like he’s not coming over, so...” She shrugged her shoulders and went back to staring at her phone, probably regretting putting her own plans aside to wait for Leonard—all for him to no-show.

My stomach fell a bit, knowing my time with her was coming to an end…

When Leonard confronted me about never showing up to meet him at the party, I just acted dumb.

“Didn’t you invite me to hang out with you guys? And I didn’t want to eat cold pizza so I decided to go right away. I’m meeting up with the groom-to-be later, so it’s not a big deal I missed the party. I’m glad I went too—at least Angel had some company.”

He gave me a surly look but said nothing more about it. And he never invited me to be in on ghosting Angel again.

Watching Leonard take Angel for granted, the callous way he treated her, made me want to swoop in and save her.

But what could I really do?

I couldn’t be there for her; I belonged to the government and would have to leave her for months or more at a time. I couldn’t be the man she should have, and I sure as hell couldn’t interfere in a friend’s relationship.

I tried to distract myself with the usual meaningless relationships with the opposite sex, but after getting a taste of something more meaningful with her, it became tougher to ignore the longing for something real that I’d buried deep inside—so deep, I thought it no longer existed past high school and the first few years in the military.

But the desire could no longer be ignored, and seeing the two of them together became absolute torture. Their relationship was something I couldn’t have, and it stared me in the face relentlessly.

Still, I held my feelings at bay expertly; I’d had plenty of practice suppressing emotion.

But after Leonard abandoned her to dance with someone else at that wedding reception, and I went to her, held her in my arms, and danced with her, I was a complete goner.

After that dance, how could I possibly hide when it felt like every wall I’d ever built had come crumbling down?

Tyler had caught me at a weak moment.

I told myself that anyone else who might’ve noticed would understand. Any guy, besides the one who was with her—the one who took her for granted—would have been affected by holding her up close and personal, wrapped in the warmth she exudes.

I was, after all, just a man, and she was an enchanting woman—one who made me feel like a different kind of life was possible, worth living. A life that involved a woman I could come home to, maybe even some kids. Not quite a picket fence suburban kind of deal—maybe a high-rise in New York, or a cabin in Alaska, but in any case, a settled existence.

Maybe I didn’t have to run myself into the ground until I was in the ground; I didn’t have to go down in a blaze of bullets or fire.

Perhaps I could live with someone. Love someone.

It was just a glimpse of possibility, and I always knew it was ridiculous, but it was a nice kind of fantasy to have in my pocket.

To look at Angel and imagine having a woman like her one day, a different kind of life, made it easier to return to violent parts of the world.

It almost felt as if putting in a certain amount of hours would add up to me having the freedom to give ‘normal’ life a shot.

I knew damned well it wasn’t going to happen, but it was reassuring to keep that sort of fantasy alive, even though there’s only one woman who made me seriously consider having a wife one day, and it’s Angel McDaniels.

To think my military service helped make it so that a woman like Angel could live a normal life herself and be safe made me feel a lot better about it; it wasn’t just soul-sucking, thankless work.

And now everything is different.

I’ll have to make a decision regarding where to take my career soon—keep showing up in volatile countries and putting my life on the line daily or transitioning to a more ‘stable’ job at home, working as a civilian.

I have more career choices available now, and I’ll have to decide where to take my future in short order.

All I know for sure at this point is that I’d prefer to be around Angel more than anything.

One of my old military buddies does close protection work all the time, and he apparently enjoys it because he gets to be around celebrities and experiences all kinds of perks from that—from traveling first class or on private jets to offers of joining in on all sorts of recreational activities.

I don’t think I have the patience for that type of shit; Angel is my one exception—in a lot of goddamned ways. I’d maybe consider the Secret Service, but movie and music and YouTube stars? Pass.

What I do with the next phase of my life partially depends on her, and yet I can’t tell her how I feel just yet—things have to settle down.

Everything that’s been happening, it’s a lot for her and she needs time and space to sort through it all and find her center again.

I get that, and I’m willing to wait. A little.

Truth is, I can’t imagine my life without her; I need her presence as a constant, and not just as a friend she recommends zombie stories to, or a friend with benefits.

I need her to be my woman.