I still don’t think it will ever happen for me, but my heart apparently hasn’t gotten that message yet. It’s still longing for that special connection with someone, and no talking-to seems to make it better.
My attraction to Gabe is a total no-brainer, basic chemistry that’s not even worth trying to fight. I learned a long time ago we feel what we feel, and that’s okay, but sometimes, it’s easier to just ride the wave instead of trying to run from it. It’s usually only a matter of time before it catches up anyway.
I’m still staring, having a hard time taking my eyes off of him. “Thanks for breakfast, Charming. That was very sweet of you.”
“Don’t mention it.” He mumbles his response between bites but can’t hide the slight smirk on his face at the mention of the nickname I gave him when we first met.
He loves to tell me he doesn’t like it, but I’m still convinced he secretly does anyway. He’s just trying to act all tough.
The fork disappears behind his full lips, and I finally tear my gaze away long enough to start on my own food. All the while, the conversation with Charlie keeps replaying in my mind.
What a mess.
Now I can’t stop thinking about my roommate, wondering what exactly it is I want from him, and what I’m willing to risk to get it.
All I know is my body is positively buzzing from the sheer possibility of anything Gabe.
Eight
Gabe
Monica is putting her tablet down on the kitchen island when I walk into the kitchen. “Talking to Charlie again after yesterday’s chat? It seems like you guys have talked more since we got here than when you’re in the same town.”
She groans before putting her arms on the granite, letting her head fall onto her forearms. “Ugh. You’ve noticed that too, huh?”
Her words come out mumbled but still loud enough for me to understand.
I thought she’s been happier since we got here, so I don’t understand why she’s acting this way. “Did something happen?”
I take a few steps closer, wanting to be there in case she needs to be comforted.
Sure! That’s the only reason.
All right, let’s face it. I like to be close to her.
There’s something about her that pulls me in, that wants us to share the same space as much as possible.
“It’s my fault we haven’t talked much lately, and I guess I’m trying to make up for it. Charlie’s always been one of the most important people in my life, and I really missed her.” She shakes her head back and forth, clearly bothered by this.
I’m just about to open my mouth to reply when she raises her head and holds up her hands. “You know what? Please don’t take this the wrong way, but can we please not talk about it anymore? My recent realization that the rest of the world actually did move on while I was stuck in a slump, has been beyond frustrating to me. Like, wanting-to-pull-my-hair-out frustrating. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to emerge from that deep black hole I fell into. I mean, crap, I barely remember anything from the last few months. It’s so stupid.”
I study her for a moment, keeping my expression neutral to ponder this over for a moment.
On one side, I want to tell her it’s okay, and that she didn’t really do anything wrong. I know Charlie understands; we’ve talked about it plenty of times. On the other side, though, I know it wouldn’t make a difference right now. She’s already analyzed—and probably overanalyzed—the situation, and knows Charlie better than anyone.
Instead, I nod my head. “Fair enough, but you know I’m here if you need me.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” She points at the tablet between us on the island. “I wasn’t talking to Charlie though this time, just Alex. He wanted to know how I was doing.”
She shrugs her shoulders as if this is normal and takes a sip from her water bottle.
My teeth grind together as I push down on them as hard as I can muster, certain they’ll crack if I put any more pressure on them.
For some inexplicable reason, this still happens almost every time I hear his name, which makes me even madder. I don’t want to react to this guy in any way at all. I’d actually much rather pretend he doesn’t exist.
Instead of replying to her comment, I put the brown paper bags I’m still holding on the counter.
The food smell has slowly filled the kitchen, making not only my mouth water from the rich aromas—if Mo’s hungry eyes are anything to go by. Her stomach follows suit, letting out a loud growl.
Taking a deep breath, I try to calm down, to shake off this annoying sensation. I promised myself I wouldn’t let my past get to me like this anymore. What happened between Alex and me happened a long time ago. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it. “I got us dinner from that awesome Italian place on the other side of the lake I told you about. It’s really good. I wanted to take you there, but I thought you might want to stay in tonight. You already looked pooped earlier.”
She’s been doing more this week than I’ve ever seen her do before. Long yoga sessions and strength workouts every day. Not to mention the little moments I catch her swaying her hips when music’s playing somewhere.
Knowing my plan of getting her back into the game might actually be working makes me want to pound my fists on my chest.
Her mouth lifts at the corners. “That was very thoughtful of you, thank you. Even though it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to get out of the house some more too. I don’t mean right now, but some other time. We’ve been pretty much hermits since we got here last week. Not to mention you baby me way too much anyway.”
I give her a small smile, glad my inner turmoil over my former best buddy has disappeared as I listen to her babbling.
It’s actually so fucking cute, I can’t fight the growing grin on my face.
A sound comes out of her mouth that can only be described as a squeak. “Oh, stop it. I’m still not used to people taking care of me like this. It gets me all flustered and stuff.”
Leaning back against the counter with my back, I fold my arms across my chest. “What are you talking about?”
Her finger points straight at me, not a moment of hesitation. “You, of course. You get food for me, you make food for me. All. The. Time.”
I have no idea what is going on. “So what? We’ve been doing this for the past year.”
She breaks eye contact and shrugs, absentmindedly brushing back and forth across her forehead with her fingertips. “I know. That makes it even worse. My parents taught me early on to take care of myself, and when I’m on the road with my team, we all take care of our own stuff too. We’re adults, after all.”
“Adults can take care of other adults, or at least be considerate of them, especially when they were in an accident.” I walk around the island and stop in front of her.
This is so typical for Monica. Too stubborn and proud to accept help, just like she fought me on moving in with me, and then again for not letting her chip in on the mortgage payments and other expenses.
I’m actually surprised she hasn’t brought this up sooner.
Instead of shaking some sense into her though, I clench my hands, the muscles in my arms flexing with the motion.
Monica’s eyes flicker up my arms, locking on my biceps for several beats before she clears her throat.
What on earth was that?
Before I can contemplate asking her, she chimes back in. “I know, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“But?”
“But it’s one of those things I realized this week. That this thing between us has been super one-sided. It’s like you’ve been my fairy godmother or something like that—the male version, of course. Taking care of me like it’s the most normal thing in the world, without ever asking for anything in return. I feel bad about that, I guess, and don’t know how to ever repay you.”
Wow. That went somewhere else entirely.
Pulling out the barstool bes
ide her, I sit down, wanting to be on her eye level. It takes me bumping my knees into hers for her to look at me, but at least she finally does. “Hey! Remember it’s me you’re talking to. We’ve been sharing a house for most of the last year. That’s pretty much as close as anyone has ever been to me, not that I would do this for just anyone. You’re a very sweet, kind, caring, and talented person. You need to get it in your pretty head that you don’t owe me a thing. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.”
My words don’t exactly trigger the response I intended as I watch the pink tinge travel up Monica’s neck and cheeks before she covers her face with her hands. “Oh gosh. Stop it already. I can't remember the last time I blushed. How embarrassing.”
Flabbergasted.
I’m absolutely stunned she’s reacting this way.
It’s also interesting she can still surprise me after we’ve known each other all this time.
Intent on making her break out of this, I peel her hands off her face and hold them in mine. “I just want you to know that nothing I’ve done is special, Monica. That’s what people do when they care about each other. And you deserve people like that in your life because you only deserve the best.”
My stomach squirms at my words, but her flushing skin distracts me before I can figure out why.
Naturally, Monica tries to pull her right hand out of my grasp but I won’t let her. “Seriously, Gabe, stop it. I obviously don’t do well with this stuff.”
She chuckles quietly though, and a smile finally breaks through her fierce mask.
“Are you kidding me? I didn’t know getting you to blush would be so much fun.” I lean in the slightest bit as her eyes focus on my face. “That kind of makes me wonder what else makes you blush.”
I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience because I have absolutely no idea where that thought just came from, and I’m almost—almost—horrified by what she must be thinking of me right now.
This isn’t me. I don’t say stuff like that.
But when I just stared into her gorgeous green eyes, the color on her cheeks somehow making them shine brighter, I just blurted out whatever was on my mind.
Instead of the witty comeback I expected, she doesn’t say a thing.
Nothing.
Not a single peep. Her eyes are wide, her pupils dilated, as she continues to silently stare at me.
I’m actually not sure if that’s worse than being scolded.
The air between us buzzes with an anticipation that is about to throw me off the chair at any moment now, and I’m about to demand a response. A reaction. Something.
When she’s finally about to open her beautiful lips, her phone buzzes next to us on the counter.
The noise pulls us out of the moment as we both glance over, just in time to see Alex’s name flashing with an incoming text message.
The preview of it shows up on the screen. Great talking to you earlier. Keep up the good work, and please, please, please try to dance!! I’ve waited long enough to have you dance in circles around me.
I let her hand slip out of mine and shove it into my hair instead, barely refraining from pulling it out at the roots.
Releasing a frustrated breath, my jaw clenches so hard, it’s almost painful. “I hate to say this, but I have to agree with him. You need to dance again.”
She jumps off her chair, hands on her waist, and looks at the ceiling. After sighing loudly, she focuses back on me.
The words that come out of her mouth are weaker than her stance. “What if I don’t want to? Nobody ever seems to care what I want. Plus, what if I simply can’t? I mean, has anyone ever thought about that? It’s always just, ‘Mo, you have to dance again, just try, you can do it.’ But maybe I’m incapable of ever dancing again. And then what? I’m nothing without dancing, absolutely nothing, Gabe.”
Her voice has taken on a panicky edge as the words tumble out in one big whoosh, and she seems to visibly shrink from the outburst.
When she starts pacing the room, I silently watch her. Back and forth, back and forth.
I scratch the back of my neck as my eyes keep tracking her movements.
Totally unexpected.
I did not see this coming.
At all.
I’d figured she was scared, but I didn’t realize her fear was so deeply rooted. No wonder she hasn’t tried dancing yet. The way she looks right now, wide eyes and tight shoulders, her breath bursting in and out. It must have been paralyzing.
For a moment, I’m at a total loss for words as my brain goes a million miles per hour, trying to figure this out.
Trying to fix this.
And it’s quite obviously too sensitive a subject to screw up with the wrong words.
All I know is that I want to help her.
Badly.
After walking back and forth a few more times, she throws her hands up in the air. “Why are you looking at me like this? What is it?”
I rub my hand over my rough jaw while my brain is still going. “I’m just trying to figure out what it would take to get you to dance again.”
That stops her in her tracks. “What do you mean? This has nothing to do with you, Gabe. This is one hundred percent my problem, not yours.”
Since we haven’t done enough finger-pointing today, my index finger points straight at her face. “What will it take for you to try to dance again? Tell me.”
She’s stunned for a moment. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
I only shrug my shoulders, a new determination settling deep in my bones. “Maybe, maybe not. It’s worth a try though. Perhaps you just need the right incentive.”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times but still nothing. She picks up her water bottle, playing with it, screwing and unscrewing the lid a dozen times.
“So, what’s it gonna be, Monica?”
“I can’t really think of anything right—” Before she can finish her sentence, her phone lights up again, reminding both of us once more of Alex’s unread text message.
My eyes stay glued to the phone screen before focusing back on her. We’re both quiet for a moment before I close my eyes and let out a long breath.
Brushing my hand over my face, I rub both of my eyelids with my thumb and index finger.
I’ve finally figured it out, and it might be the worst idea I’ve had in a very long time, so I really, really hope it’s worth it. “I can’t believe I’m about to offer this, but I’m going to tell you what happened with Alex if you try to dance again.”
The silence that follows my statement is so brutal, so honest—telling without a single word how much this really means—that I barely catch myself from flinching.
Monica’s eyes are still wide as saucers while she’s trying to imitate a gaping fish, her mouth opening and closing several times. “What? I don’t...I can’t…”
Lifting my hand, I shake my head, disbelief at my own actions still loudly running through my veins, as I slowly walk around the kitchen island toward the takeout bags.
I need to distract myself before I retract my offer, making both of us miserable. “Just think about it, okay? Let’s talk about something else right now before I change my mind. Plus, the food is getting cold, so let’s eat.”
All she does is nod. She might have mumbled, “Okay,” but I’m not a hundred percent sure of anything right now.
I’m trying hard to stay calm on the outside, pretending like this is as good of a plan as Monica hopefully thinks it is.
If she bites, it might very well be worth my own pain.
Nine
Monica
It’s been two days since Gabe’s unusual offer.
Two days for my mind to spin in circles.
Around and around and around.
Because whose mind wouldn’t?
Dangling that unusual offer right in front of my nose, knowing exactly how much I’d like to add this missing piece to the puzzle—the puzzle being Gabe, of course.
Needless
to say, my curiosity has skyrocketed ever since.
As far as I know, Gabe hasn’t told anyone about what happened between him and Alex in college. No one seems to know what broke up their friendship. Not a single soul. I’m still a bit shocked he used it as an incentive to get me to dance. Me.
It’s not like he’s getting anything out of it if I dance again.
The gesture itself means a great deal to me though, and I’ve wondered more than once how long exactly he had to talk himself into his proposal, or if he might already regret making it.
Crazy Gabe.
Regardless, I still haven’t given him an answer.
Despite how much I really want to know that secret—and I mean, I really, really want to know—I’m still not ready to dance again. I’ve definitely been thinking about dancing a lot more these last few days, but that’s because of Gabe and his insistence.
“Monica, hey.” Someone touches my arm and I jerk up.
“What?” The word comes out louder than I intended, my heart skipping wildly in my chest.
Kiara stands in front of me, laughing, with her hands on her hips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You just sat there, completely zoned out.”
Looking around, I notice all of the people from my yoga class have already left. “Oh, dang it. Just lost in thought, I guess. I didn’t realize so much time had passed. Do you need me to leave?”
In that moment, the door swings open, and within seconds, the room fills with little kids. A few adults trail after them, standing or sitting down at the wall near the door.
“No, not at all. Kim is from the local dance studio.” She points at a petite woman at the front of the class I didn’t notice. She looks of Asian descent, with short, black hair, a warm smile for everyone, and is dressed in the traditional “ballet uniform” of tights and a leotard. After she puts down her belongings on the floor next to the stereo, the kids gather around her like eager, little minions.
The Mitchell Brothers Collection: A Feel-Good Romance Box Set Page 40
