An Angel Wears Hightops [A Sequel to The Devil Wears Girl Jeans]

An Angel Wears Hightops (Chapter 2)

I hummed to myself as I navigated my way down the sprawling corridor in front of me, a box of doughnuts from the bakery down the street tucked under my arm. Even though the worn out brown carpet under my feet managed to stifle my footsteps for the most part, the door to apartment 16 B still swung open a crack before I even had a chance to knock. A charcoal coloured eye stared down at me from beneath a mop of pin straight black hair, accompanied by an annoyed grunt.

“Oh. It's you.” Poe muttered, opening the door just enough for me to squeeze past him, into the living room of their apartment. Inside, Mickey was sprawled out on their couch, piles of textbooks and papers piled up around him, a pained look on his face.

“Dude. I am 200% done with this essay. It’s an analysis on two critical analyses of one book. Time to dropout and sell this sweet ass on the streets.”

“It'd probably be a lot easier if you didnt have the attention span of a turnip, but thats just my opinion.” I told him, shrugging off my snow-soaked coat and draping it over a chair to dry. Mickey jumped in surprise and almost dropped his laptop, apparently having not realized that I'd entered the room.

“Hartley,” he greeted me with forced composure, still trying to catch his breath,“How nice of you to drop by unannouced. As always.”

“Warning is over rated.” I informed him, flopping down into the recliner beside him. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the papers in front of him with a sigh. His page was empty, with the exception of the title and his name scrawled across the top in purple pencil crayon.

“Back to the matter at hand, is there like a male equivalent of Hooters I can work at or something? I'm not feeling this whole “school” concept.”

“I hear meth labs make good money too,” I informed him, tucking my legs under me to keep my feet warm. Poe and Mickey had the best of everything, but apparently couldnt afford heating. Then again, who needs to be warm when you can just cuddle up under a stack of inheritance money and MacBooks? Speaking of which...

“I promised Quinn and Lacey that I'd Skype them tonight, can I borrow your laptop?” I asked Mickey, doing my best puppy dog expression. I probably just looked constipated.

“Depends,” he asked, stroking his imaginary beard with a mischevous grin plastered on his face, “Did you bring the goods?”

“'Course. I know the drill.” I grumbled bitterly, holding out the box of doughnuts in his direction.

“What is it?” He asked, craning his neck to get a look at the logo on the lid of the box, and I rolled my eyes.

“Poisonious snakes.”

Mickey gave me a pleased look and reached for it, his fingers brushing mine. I let out a highpitched yelp as an electric current seemed to pass between us, and yanked my hand back, sending the doughnuts tumbling to the floor.

Mickey stared at me wide eyed and completely frozen, as if he was just waiting for me to get up and sprint out of the building.

“What the hell was that?” I asked, staring down at the pieces of doughnut and icing that were cemented into their carpet now.

Mickey's lips twitched as if there was something he wanted to say, but he stopped, swallowing loudly.

“Nice one, klutz. Now I have delicious frosted carcasses all over my carpet. Sweet. This is going to be really enjoyable to clean up, I'm seriously looking forward to it. For real.” he grumbled, shaking his head at me as he handed me his laptop. He smiled a little as he said it though, so I assumed that meant I was forgiven.

I flipped open the computer and logged into Skype, where I immediately got invited to video chat by Lacey. Apparently, she'd been waiting for me.

I drummed my fingers against the keyboard impatiently as I waited for it to connect, and a minute later I was rewarded with a grainy image of Lacey and Quinn laying on a hotel bed somewhere in the world.