"Hello," I said, not turning around, knowing he would come to me.

I heard him settle on a headstone not far from me. Disappointed, I made a face and stood, huffing indignantly. I walked over to him, settling in his lap, sliding my arms around his neck.

"Better," I said, smiling.

He slipped his arms around my waist, holding me close. "You changed your shampoo," He murmured, sniffing my hair.

It always touched me when he noticed stuff like that. Made me feel special, because those small things mattered enough to him for him to notice when they changed.

How I lucked out with him, I'll never know. Other guys just don't comment on the little things. They tell you you look great, or that they like your eyes, but they don't pay enough attention to the smaller details, the ones that help define you as a whole. They dismiss them as trivial, when really, they're some of the most important things. To me, anyway.

I grinned and kissed him warmly. When our lips parted, I tightened my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "You're so sweet," I murmured, pressing my lips to the little mark behind his ear. I didn't tell him enough.

I felt his cheek move as he smiled, but he didn't say anything. I like that about him. He lets certain things remain unspoken, but still tells me the things that I need to know, even if he does it with a little reluctance. I was used to having to draw things out of him, now, and I knew that half the time, it was because he wanted to protect me from certain information. Which can be irritating, but I can't help but find it sort of sweet, too.

Ugh. I'm pathetic. He could probably like, fry an egg, or something, and I'd think it was completely special and amazing just because it was *him* that was doing it. Especially if he did it without a shirt.

He has an amazing stomach for rubbing, I've discovered. Surprisingly, he's really ticklish, and I find it supremely amusing the make him shake with restrained laughter, testing his breaking point, seeing how long I can make him laugh for. He has a really cute giggle.

Unfortunately, he recently discovered that I have ticklish knees, so he's taken to turning the tables on me. At which point I start noticing how amazing his hands are, and then that's all I can think about as I turn into puddle of mush girl.

I've found myself thinking about our future, lately, especially in the wee hours of the morning, after he's just left me, his kiss on my lips, his touch still burning all over my body, in places that I've never really let anyone else touch before... Okay, that sounded lame, but I'm still a little weird about putting into words the fact that I not only let him, but encouraged him to feel me up.

And still, that sounds so juvenile, I can't believe it. It's not like he's some awkward hormonal teenage boy, prodding and gawking at my chest. He's a fully grown man, even before he was turned, and he knows what he's doing, believe me. I don't even want to think about how many pairs of breasts he must have fondled to learn to do that.

I prefer to think that it's a natural talent.

Please, don't argue with me on this one. I don't like the thought of him with other women, even though I've seen a few of them, myself. Darla, Drusilla. This woman named Eve who tried to pass through town a few weeks ago.

He told me about her after we ran into her at the Bronze.

I actually went looking for her, believe it or not. Kicked her ass with a jealous fury reserved only for those who reside in the 'those who have fucked Buffy's boyfriend' category. I beheaded her, and she's dust.

I don't think I want to tell Angel about how gratifying it was to kill her. He'd probably get all guilty, and then I don't think I could resist asking for a ballpark figure of exactly how many women (or, for all I know, men) he has done the deed with.

Now, with a clear mind, I can definitely say that I do *not* want to know. It'll only make me all weird and uncertain when we sleep together.

Yes, When.

It's definitely a 'when' for me now. Might not be today, might not be tomorrow, might not be a *year* from now, but he's definitely the one. Which gets us back to what I was talking about before, about our future, before I got...erm...sidetracked.

I know the others have had doubts, about us, and maybe they still do. Xander in particular, though that's mostly jealousy. Willow thinks the whole thing is terribly romantic, and shares in it vicariously through me, through my letters and my descriptions. She's been so supportive, it's amazing.

Giles has his reservations, I think, but I let slip to him the other day that I was most definitely 'in love' with Angel, and after gentle warning to be careful, he smiled and gave me the night off. He's jiving on the whole love thing at the moment too, with Ms Calendar. They make a hopelessly adorable couple, which is something I will *never* tell Giles. The guy is my watcher. It's still a little hard to think of him as someone who has, you know. A life.

That came out wrong.

Oh, wait, no, it didn't. That's what I meant. Yep.

My other watcher didn't have a life. He had books. And weapons. And a really nice car.

But certainly not a personality. Not one that I found particularly interesting, anyway.

I think maybe I lucked out with Giles. Or, you know.Maybe the council caught wind of my being particularly difficult, and decided to punish him.

Hmm. I think that's probably it.

Which is cool, cos I'm pretty sure the old scone loves me, in his weird ol' Gilesy way.

Haha. Take that, guys-I've-never-met-but-run-my-life-anyway!

I'm so petty.

Oh...that's...goood...

Remember what I said before about Angel's hands? About how amazing they are? I don't think you can fully comprehend the magic until you feel those long, cool, graceful fingers slip under your shirt and knead the muscles in your back. They're...magical. Okay, I think I said that already. It's a little hard to focus with him touching me the way he is.

We were lying on his rug the other day (his apartment has become one of my favourite places in Sunnydale. Everything smells like him. Or, he smells like them. I don't know.) , my head on his stomach, just chatting about something or other... probably something small and stupid that he wanted to hear about anyway, like my day at school, or a joke that Xander had told, or something like that... anyway, I remember he suddenly started brushing at the bangs of hair that surrounded my face, and I just trailed off altogether, closing my eyes, feeling all the heat in my body rush towards the skin that he was touching, as if his cool fingers were drawing all the heat towards them, as if they were going to absorb it completely.

It was one of the most intense feelings I've ever had. I don't know how to describe it... It was almost...erotic. I distinctly remember moaning, and him asking me if I was okay, completely and utterly unaware of what he was doing to me. It was so...innocent...yet...

I wanted to make love to him, then.

I probably would have, too, if Giles hadn't called.

I can't work out if I'm mad at Giles for it, or thankful. The rational part falls down on the latter, but the more emotional, instinctual side... Is definitely voting for the former.

Which is a little scary.

It's also something I haven't brought up with Angel. I wonder if he knows that I think about it so much? That I think about him?

I wonder if he thinks about me?

I'm drawn back to the present, and he's looking at me, with those dark, almost mischievous brown eyes, smiling as his thumb moves back and forth over my spine slowly.

And then he's kissing me, and it all falls away...tomorrow...yesterday...today... and it's just us, and our love, and our desire.His lips pressed to mine, his hands on my body, his lap beneath my thighs.

Just us.

And that's something I can handle.

The End

 

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