Venting: Angie

Since this video dropped into our laps, it's been hovering over us like a dark cloud. A week later, and we still haven't been able to get the anonymous person to come forward.

"We should just turn it into the authorities," I say.

It's getting late, and I don't see us getting anywhere today. We'll have to wrap this up, and start again tomorrow.

"Yes, but I want to tell her parents first. They should know."

I can't fathom how they'll feel after watching it, but they deserve answers.

I'm sitting across from him on the couch. "I agree. Do you still have contact with them?"

"I do. They're flying down in a few days. Once they give me their blessing we can turn it in." He leans into the sofa, digging deep into his back pocket.

"Did you tell them everything?"

He shakes his head, sticking in a piece of gum. I call him a chain-chewer, because he goes through half a pack a day.

"Just that it's important information about Delilah." He rubs his hands back and forth with a thoughtful look. "Who would you guess is the man behind the camera?"

"I'm not sure. Dan hangs out with lots of people."

Thomas' older sister, Grace, is working late again tonight. He moved out of his parents' house last year, because he didn't like the idea of her living alone. This whole experience has effected him in numerous ways.

"Were you trying to meet me at the party that night?" I'm not sure what made me think of it, but I'm curious.

"You mean stalking you?" His deep chuckles bounce off the walls. "No, that night I wasn't expecting to meet you. It was funny though, seeing you all legless. Oh no, hearing you call someone a trick was my absolute favorite part! I had to google that word."

Meanwhile, his British slang may as well be a completely different language.

I sigh. "That was my first fight." I hate being reminded of his first impression of me.

"That was obvious. You were trying too hard to be tough."

I smile. "Funny, I imagined myself looking cool."

"You're lucky you could hardly see straight."

I giggle, throwing a pillow at him. He catches it with ease.

"Out of all the colorful words, why that one?"

I rub my face to hide my embarrassment, though it doesn't work. "I don't know, man."

"I do." He holds my eyes.

"Is that right?"

"Probably due to your upbringing."

I'm surprised. "You're right about that one. My grandma raised me for the most part, and she kept us in church."

"Figured as much. You don't look natural smoking."

"Well, it's a recent habit," I say, admittedly. I realize something. "I haven't smoked since the party."

He nods like he's impressed. What I want to say is that I haven't smoked since I met him.

"Is he what made you smoke?"

"I wish I could say no, and that he didn't change me."

I look to the ceiling. Thomas' concerned eyes will bring me to tears if I'm not careful.

"You're still the same."

"How would you know?" With courage, I meet his relentless gaze.

"I feel like I've met the real you. Am I wrong?"

I grin, shaking my head no.

"I'm religious too, by the way. A Christian." He tugs on his collar, pulling out a golden cross necklace. "It keeps me holding on. I imagine Delilah in Heaven, finally at rest with The Father."

"You're holding onto faith that she'll get justice?"

"Faith without works is dead."

"You sound like my grandma."

"She can't be all bad if she raised you."

For some reason I blush. I don't know, it was sweet. "Thanks, Thomas."

I can't help but feel refreshed by his warm smile. I've been in the dark for so long, but with him everything is bright and optimistic. "Hey, it's getting late. Can I get a ride home?"

We stand, stretching our lazy bones after being on the sofa for so long. His keys jingle when they hit the beige tile. Both reaching for them, our heads knock together.

We chuckle through winces on the cold floor, uttering apologies.

He insists. "My mistake. I'm quite literally thick-headed, aren't I? I think I swallowed my gum! Are you alright?"

He gets closer, lifting my bangs for a better look. His thumb draws circles to feel for any lumps. It relaxes me, and on instinct I close my eyes.

"My head doesn't hurt that much. I doubt it'll leave a mark."

There's a pause before he answers.

"You have a freckle on your eyelid," he says, mumbling.

My eyes flutter open.

He's closer. So close that I can count the ripples on his forehead. Above one furrowed brow is a red mark from where we collided. His gaze reaches my core, until I'm unarmed and vulnerable.

A boldness takes over me. I stop thinking. He watches as I plant a tender kiss on his red blotch.

Burning flames consume his ocean eyes, begging to be extinguished. When I kiss his lips, his fingers trace up my neck. The taste of fresh mint overpowers me.

I close my eyes. For a moment I'm fine. I'm enjoying this. For a second I see Thomas and his warm smile, but then it's Dan and his cold glare. We're back at the beach, and my heart is about to explode.

I break away, attempting to steady my panicked breaths. He's stunned to see me this rattled. Before I can hide them, fat tears well up in my eyes.

"I'm so sorry." He runs a nervous hand through his jet black hair.

I bring in my legs to my chest. The hot tears roll fast, splatting my knees with wet taps. Guilt and embarrassment make it impossible to look at Thomas. "It's not you." I wish I could disappear. Rewind time. "It's my fault, I kissed you."

His voice is gentle. "Why does it have to be anyone's fault?"

I hesitate, but then decide to be honest. "No one's ever touched me before him." I shrug, choking on the last words. "I know, it's a lot."

He wraps me in an unexpected embrace. "No need to explain, love."

I release the pain that I've bottled inside. Tears stain the back of his gray shirt. I hug tighter, realizing something.

He's the only one to have embraced me about this. He's my first...