Chapter 4: The Smokers' Code

Lifting her designer sunglasses, Susan Carmichael shook her head in disbelief. "That is cold," she said, in a tone of disgust mixed with awe.

"I know!" Angelica leaned against the large Grecian columns of the English department building, remembering. "I think I must be rubbing off on the little twerp."

Susie checked her watch then picked up the backpack at her feet. When Angelica remained motionless, she raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you coming into class?"

"Yeah. In a minute." Angelica unzipped her purse and took out a pack of cigarettes. She held them up. "Smoke break first."

Susie had given many lectures in the past, all to no avail, regarding her roommate/sorority sister's smoking. But since Angelica always kept it outdoors, Susie couldn't really complain. So instead Susie simply shrugged, slung her backpack over her shoulders, and started up the stairs. She paused when she reached the top, however. "Hey, Angie?"

Angelica glanced up at her. "Yeah?"

"You know the best way to deal with a secret is to tell it, right?"

"Good-bye, Carmichael."

Returning her attentions to her task, Angelica tried to light her cigarette but failed. She tried again. And failed. She shook the lighter and scowled at it. Must be out of fluid. Stupid piece of—

"Here."

Angelica glanced up and found herself looking into the earnest green eyes of Chuck Finster. He held out a lighter, flame glowing, in his hand. She leaned forward with the cigarette in her mouth and allowed him to light it. After taking a few puffs, she turned to see he still stood there. "Any particular reason you carry a lighter?" she asked.

"Well, I smoke too."

She practically choked. "No. No, you don't. No way."

"It helps calm my nerves." He shrugged. "Left my pack in my other pants, though."

"Huh." She still wasn't sure she believed him but handed him her pack anyways. "Here. Have one."

He looked down at the cigarettes, unsure.

"It's the smokers' code, Finster. Have 'em, share 'em." She sighed. "Hurry up and take one before I change my mind, will ya?"

He did, lighting it effortlessly. As he took a deep drag, Angelica realized that maybe he'd been telling the truth about being a smoker himself. Well, smoking did help calm the nerves—and if anyone's nerves needed calming, that person was Chuck. It made sense, almost.

"Thanks," he said, returning her pack.

She nodded towards his lighter. "Thanks yourself."

They stood smoking for a few moments in silence. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. She could practically taste his edginess, he was so wound up. She wondered when he would finally crack. He'd never been good at keeping things from her.

"So, Angie."

Not long, then. But that was hardly a surprise. "Yeah?"

"I just, uh, wanted to say I'm sorry. For the other day."

The other day? Angelica's brows knit together in thought. Then she remembered. "Oh! The favor." She waved her hand dismissively. "It's okay, I actually know Matt. Well, I've seen him around, anyways. He's not bad-looking. Not up to my usual standards, of course, but really, who is?"

"Even so. I didn't know Tom was going to pull that. Neither did Phil." Chuck looked away and muttered, "It was a shitty thing to do."

Chuck, saying something against Tom? Well, how interesting. Angelica made a note to file away this tidbit of information for future reference.

"Apology accepted," she told him, putting out her cigarette and grabbing her books. "Now outta my way. You're going to make me late for class."

As she headed up the stairs, she smiled with satisfaction to see him fairly stumble over his own feet in a rush to get out of her path. Some things never changed—and when it came to Charles Finster, she liked that.

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Author's Notes: Finally we get some one-on-one Chuck/Angie … and there's more to come.