Chapter 6

November 1971 – Yale University

Greg pulled a shaking Angela to her feet.

"I think I'm gonna…" and she pointed back upstairs.

"Oh. Yeah. Okay. Just be careful, alright?" Greg said as he let go of her other arm. Angela held her breath as she quickly ascended the staircase, collecting her dress and shoes (and capelet and purse – Ugh!) from where they'd all dropped with as much dignity as she could muster. She exhaled as she opened the door to her room. Now breathing slowly and deeply, Angela walked to her bed and dumped her traitorous clothes on it in a heap. Plopping down on the floor beside the bed, Angela drew her knees up and cried. She had failed. She had tried to be sexy, and she had failed.

Angela allowed herself several minutes to recuperate, but finally pushed herself to a standing position and walked to the mirror. Her beautiful bun was loosened and kind of lopsided, and there were strands of hair left orphaned all over her head. She pulled out the pins, tousled the roots a bit, and let her lovely curls rest on her bare shoulders. Her makeup actually didn't look too bad, after a quick touch-up. Angela walked over and looked at her dress, now torn where the heel had caught. Sighing, Angela dropped the dress onto her comforter, and walked to her dresser. She switched into more suitable underthings, and slipped on some sneakers and the dark purple velour track suit she'd gotten the other day - when she'd felt like a winner.

Bracing herself, she headed out of her room, and held the railing as she walked back down to a somewhat-nervous looking Greg. She was a little surprised he was still there.

"Hey, Champ. You okay?"

"Yeah." Angela was having a hard time looking him in the eye, but just decided to square up. "Look, I'm sorry you got all dressed up – you look really nice, by the way." He smiled. "But I really don't feel like going to this thing anymore."

"Okay. Well, I'm still hungry…and I'm dying to show off this cummerbund... You wanna go get a burger at Louis'?" Greg peered down from the side, trying to catch her eye. She laughed a little, and looked up at him.

"I'd love to," Angela smiled.

Greg drove them to the local burger joint, and they walked inside. Louis' Lunch was a homey little place with smells that boasted of divine comfort. "What do you want?"

"A cow. A whole effing cow," Angela said, dead serious. Greg laughed.

"Okaaay…Can we eat it in quarter-pound increments?" He suggested.

Angela paused. "…Fair enough. As long as it has cheese."

"Done." Greg turned to the cashier, "We'd like two of your original burgers – with chee-"

"Rare," Angela interrupted, still serious.

Greg grinned, "Uh, one – rare – and one medium-well, please, both with cheese, two Pepsis, and two pieces of your homemade pie, please."

Angela finally smiled.

"Yes, sir. Your order number is 132," the cashier said. Greg paid the bill, and thanked the cashier.

"Yes. Thank you," Angela added. She turned to Greg, "And thank you."

"No problem," Greg said seriously, then lightened up. "I mean, you did ask me out, but, under the circumstances, I think you've paid enough."

"And what did I owe?" Angela teased with a straight face.

"Yeah, that's what I was wondering… Like, what kinda karma is chasing your tail? Sheesh!"

"You believe in karma?"

"Not really, but you've gotta admit, that fall was kinda otherworldly..." Greg laughed a little.

A sudden, inexplicable need to tell the truth came over Angela. "Not at all," she interjected, seriously. "I only ate about 500 calories in the last three days, and my body wasn't having it." Greg's smile faded.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Angela paused, but then softly let out, "I-I just wanted to look nice in my dress."

Greg looked into her eyes, and quietly said, "Well, you did."

Angela's heart unfolded right there in front of his face. The air was soft. Her breathing slowed. And she never wanted to be anywhere else but in front of those chocolate eyes for the rest of her life.

He tipped his head in consideration. "Of course, you also looked nice out of your dress…" Angela snapped out of her reverie, and punched his arm. "Hey!" He squeaked as he held up his hands. "Just an observation!" Angela's faux-indignance cooled into a healthy smile.

The cashier called out, "Order 132 is up!" Greg picked up the tray, and the two of them walked to a far table. Greg divvied up the food, and put the tray on the trash can.

Angela wanted to shove the burger in her mouth with her fist, but made her way through the meal with painful discretion. She knew she couldn't cut it as a desirable woman, but for some reason she couldn't pin, she was still holding out hope that Greg didn't.

Finally, Angela sucked the last of the Pepsi loudly from the straw, and looked up. With a large mouthful of pie, Greg said, "So – you want another crack at that cow?" he asked.

More amused than disgusted, Angela relented. "No, I'm afraid I spoke too soon. I will not be ingesting an effing cow this evening."

"Bummer. I kind of wanted to see that," Greg frowned. "…whether you ingested it, or not," he said as he popped the last of his burger into his mouth.

Angela looked up from her drink, "Wait - what?"

"What" Greg's blank look crept into a devilish smile as he got up. Angela laughed, and shook her head. "Hey, now. Don't be shakin' that head at me. You're the one with the dirty mouth," he grinned, and held the door open for her as they left.

Angela wouldn't have thought she even had the ability to flirt, but there was a magnetism off of Greg that pulled it out of her, easy as breathing.

Greg pulled up to her sorority house, and turned off the car. Angela took a breath, then turned to look at him. "Thank you for taking me out. You made everything…a-a lot better."

"You're very welcome. I had a good time, too," he smiled.

She stared intently into his eyes, and after a couple seconds, he looked down.

"Did you…want to go out again sometime?" Angela braved through somewhat squinted eyes.

Greg paused, then started, "Um, hey, you know, I really like hanging out with you…" Angela froze, Oh, no! Wait, maybe it's okay…"You're funny and smart," Oh, no! "and I really like you - as a friend." Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit, Angela panicked between invisible breaths.

Angela put her hand up to her temple to steady herself. With a raggedy exhale, she looked down and whispered, "Oh, okay. I just thought, you know, we were having a nice time, and-"

"Yeah, we were - are!" Greg tried, unconvincingly. "I just, I mean, you're really friendly, and I could really use a friend. I have a great time with you. I'd just…like to keep it…like that?"

Angela cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, "So, what? You feel like you could be closer to my slip? Because I can go get it for you."

Greg rolled his eyes, "Oh, come on, Angela. A girl instantly appears before me half-naked, and I can't like it?"

"Just not me…"

"Just not like that."

Angela unbuckled her seatbelt. "Angela," Greg tried.

She opened the door. "Angela, come on."

She got out of the car. "Angela!"

She shut the door.