I'm not going to lie and say that when I first saw Angie I was in love with her, because I wasn't. We were in high school, and I was probably caught up some other girl, so it's likely she didn't register much. I must have noticed her on some level, I guess, because I can still imagine what she looked like then, although maybe that image in my mind is just pure fantasy.
Anyways, what I remember of her then, imagined or not, still keeps me up some nights. She was gorgeous. All sex without being obvious, and all innocence without coming across as naive. She had long, dark hair that fell past her shoulders, and long tan legs reaching up to her small but perfectly rounded ass. She was a thin girl all over. Mostly now I guess I appreciate curves a little more, but maybe that's just because I've never met a girl who could wear Angie's look like Angie.
Her eyes were dark too, and she had these high cheekbones that always made her look real severe which was off-putting at first, but when she smiled her face was all light. I don't know when it happened, or why, but I remember sitting in class one day, tracing the curve of her thigh with my eyes all the way up to the hem of her shorts, just an inch or two below heaven, and that was it. I was hers.
From then on, my attentions were undivided, my focus was unquestionable, and my intentions were impure. Goddamn if there wasn't something about her. We started to talk between classes, and she smiled a lot when we did. She told me she was on the volleyball team, and suddenly I was going to watch her play. I didn't catch much of the game. I did catch over an hour of seeing her silky smooth legs carry her around the court, of seeing her tits, which always seemed to me to be just a perfect handful, bounce as she jumped up and down.
I'd sit in the bleachers and every once in a while she'd smile my way, and I'd figure she was jumping up and down for me. She'd turn away from me and bend over, and I'd see her skin-tight spandex hug her ass, showing just about as much smooth, tan skin as they could without being indecent. I'd close my eyes and think about sliding those shorts down her legs, grabbing her panties and working them down too as she arched her back, ready to feel my hands on those legs, on that ass, working towards her tight, wet pussy.
Then I'd shake my head and remember where I was. That happened a lot for a while. That was my life, always talking, always wanting, always fantasizing, always needing a cold shower, and pretty soon she caught on. Pretty soon she started to like all the attention I couldn't help giving her. Pretty soon she'd turn to me just so, show me a little more ass, a little more cleavage, a little more skin than she needed to, and she'd smile at me, her face all light, and my heart skipping a beat.
Yeah, it went that way for a while, which was alright, only I was young, and nervous, and even as she made it clearer and clearer that all I'd need to do was make a move, I didn't. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking then. I don't know how I passed all those months with nothing to show for all those stolen looks, all those light and almost awkward exchanges, all those missed opportunities. I know that eventually she got tired of waiting. I know that senior prom rolled around and she joked about going together a few times, and I never asked because I figured I'd rather drink, and so she went with Eric.
Eric was my friend. Eric knew about what me and Angie had, or didn't have. Eric wasn't going to do anything, he only asked her because neither of them had anyone to go with. Our friend Paul was having a party after the dance, and I showed up early to get hammered. As the dance ended and people started to show up at Paul's, I kept an eye out for them. For a long time they didn't show, and I drank more and more as the reality of the situation sank in, that they had probably left the dance and gotten a hotel room somewhere.
When they finally showed up sometimes past one I was hopeful, in spite of myself. I didn't know where they had been for the past couple hours, but if they were fucking in some seedy motel outside of town, it was unlikely they'd leave there to come here. Fucked up as I was though, I could tell that she was drunk. She hung on to Eric with both hands, and smiled at him, and leaned against him just so, more than she probably needed to. He held her by the waist, and talked too loud, and laughed too much. It hurt me to see them more than I would have thought. She had no eyes for me that night, and as much as I wanted to come between them, as much as I wanted to step up and pull her away, I couldn't. I only watched, watched until it was too much.
I grabbed a smoke and headed out back, behind the small guest house where Paul's parents let us crash some drunken nights. They were always cool like that, didn't care if we got a little shitty as long as we didn't drive. I went back there with a cigarette, and a drink, and a cold, dark weight sitting in my chest like an empty bottle. I did my best to fill it up.
I sat there for a long time trying to forget what I had seen, trying to forget what I was feeling. I don't know how long I sat there, under the stars, before I heard a noise from the guest house behind me. I turned around and faced the window, and there they were, Eric and Angie, attacking each other, working towards the bed. There I was, in the dark, knowing they couldn't see me, wishing I could leave, or scream, or do anything. But I didn't. I just stood there, and looked on.
She was wearing this short black dress which went maybe halfway to her knees, and showed off half her chest. Fuck, that dress. It cut down almost to her navel giving me a full view of her tan and silky skin, of her small tanlines, of her gorgeous, perky tits. At first the were just kissing, but she grabbed the lapels of his tuxedo hard, and pushed him onto the small cot.
"I don't have a condom," I heard him slur, drunkenly.
"You don't need one," I heard her reply, as she straddled him. They didn't say anything past that, or else I don't remember it.
I saw him slide his hand under her dress and grab her tit. Even from the distance I was at I could see his hand work under the soft fabric, grabbing her nipple between his thumb and his hand, work it back and forth roughly. I could hear her moan. I could almost feel the heat coming off of her, could almost feel her getting wet. She was already moving her hips, rubbing her pussy up and down across the growing bulge in his pants.
My heart dropped out as I watched them continue, and something deep inside me knew that I couldn't handle watching what was about to happen, and part of me knew that I couldn't stop. I wanted to walk away, or to close my eyes, or even to get caught, to make them stop. I knew I wouldn't. I knew what was happening, knew what was going to happen.
