In the spirit of the New Year, thought we might have something new from Untold, and some lovely people seemed interested in where Angela and Holly were at.
K hope you guys enjoy you know I love you xoxo!
Angie’s living room was almost as intimidating as the parlor at Aurimere. It was white and clinical as a doctor’s office, if said doctor’s office had a fur rug on the floor and a sofa with gold curly legs.
Rusty was in the kitchen making tea and snacks. Angie was prowling about the room like an unhappy cat.
“I’m sorry,” Angela said at last, and sat down beside Holly. “I don’t know what to say to make it better. But I’m sorry.”
That already made it better: that Angie, who never pretended, was concerned. It made Holly feel special, in a way she never really had before. She saw Angie’s hand waver for a moment, then move toward Holly’s: Holly was glad for a moment.
Then she remembered and flinched back. Angela withdrew her hand.
“Can we just get it over with?” Angela demanded. “I want to be friends with you again, without all this weirdness. If you think I’m disgusting or something . . .”
Holly looked at Angie then, stricken. “Oh no,” she said. “No.”
“Then can I just say,” Angela began, and stopped, then started again. “I don’t want to say I’m sorry, as if a guy hitting on a girl is a compliment and a girl hitting on a girl is an insult that should be apologized for. I won’t try anything again. I obviously picked up cues that were not there; I don’t have any experience and I’m sorry that—”
“Cues?” Holly asked. She felt cold suddenly, as if she had been turned to ice and might shatter.
“What?” said Angela.
“You thought there were cues?” Holly asked. Her voice sounded cold, too. “You mean you thought there was a chance I might like you back . . . that way?”
There was a silence.
Angela said in a level voice, “I made a mistake.”