Angel has always wanted more from Quinn, but would rather have the man as his best friend than not at all.
When Quinn shows up and announces its Champagne Thursday, Angel is surprised. A dance, a confession, and some heartfelt conversation isn’t what Angel expected, but can it move these friends to the place they both long to go?
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The incredulity in my tone made him laugh. "Quinn! What the hell is 'champagne Thursday'?"
"Angel!" He said my name in the same admonishing tone I'd used. "It's Thursday and we drink champagne. It's a thing."
"Since when?"
"Since now."
I squinted at him. "Why?"
That bright smile played over his lips again. "Do we need a reason?"
I gave that some thought. And then, because of the way he was looking at me, I sighed and gave in. "No. I don't suppose we do."
Quinn laughed and my whole world righted. That quick, and I was feeling like myself again. He'd always made it easy on me. Ever since the moment we'd become friends, I'd felt at ease in his presence. He had that effect on a lot of people. I did my best not to be jealous when I saw others react to him. I selfishly wanted to keep that infectious joy and big heart all to myself. But I knew that wasn't fair.
"Come on, Angel baby. Let's drink."
I didn't bother telling him not to call me that. I'd tried, in the beginning. But he liked it, it made him smile, and I couldn't make him stop. Truth be told, I didn't want him to. It was his special name, just for me, and it made me feel cared for.
Quinn poured out the drinks and gulped down one glass before I'd even taken more than a sip. He poured himself another, and then settled back into his favorite spot on my couch. I sat in the armchair next to him, close enough to touch if I leaned over. But I didn't.
After a sigh and a sip, Quinn reached for the remotes on the end table, pushed aside the ones he didn't want, and thumbed on the sound system. It took him a few moments fiddling with the controls before he settled on a mellow playlist and turned the sound low. Then he kicked off his shoes, nudged them under the edge of the table, and really got comfortable.
"You okay, dude?" There was something about his eyes that belied the truth. Normally, the warmth and sparkle -- which was impressive for how dark brown his eyes were -- kept me transfixed. That combined with the thick, sooty lashes made his eyes one of his best features. But tonight I could see an edge there I usually didn't. A pain.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Another long drink and a cheeky grin. But his eyes were still hurting.
I set my glass on the table and leaned forward. "Talk to me."
"I love this song!" He hopped up and sauntered to the middle of the room, swaying with the slow melody. He held out a hand. "Come dance."
I was on my feet before I made the conscious decision to do so. Whatever Quinn wanted. Always.
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