by Alexis Daria
Something in her chest twisted, and she turned her attention back to the ceiling. “Me too.”
Fifteen years ago
Windows Messenger Chat Transcript
Celestial Destiny: Episode 4 Planning Session
Michelle:
Our readers LOVE the amnesia story line.
Gabe:
They love that Riva hinted to Zack that they might be a couple.
Michelle:
Lots of people like a romance!
Gabe:
I was worried they’d abandon us because so much time passed between when we posted the chapters, but I think this is the most comments we’ve gotten so far.
Michelle:
The school year’s almost over so let’s try to get the next chapter up sooner.
Gabe:
I already have some ideas for the next one.
Michelle:
Ooh. Does Zack still have amnesia?
Gabe:
Everyone really liked it, so let’s keep that going. I think some tragedy should befall them on their way back to the crash site. Maybe something involving the wildlife on this planet.
Michelle:
That will give it some variety.
Gabe:
And as they’re escaping, they lose some of their camping equipment.
Michelle:
Oh yeah. Good source of conflict.
Gabe:
I was thinking . . . what if they’re left with only one sleeping bag?
Michelle:
¡Qué escándalo!
Gabe:
Our readers will eat it up.
Michelle:
They totally will. Let’s do it!
Chapter 13
With the interior of the car lit by the streetlamps over the West Side Highway, Gabe eyed Michelle in the driver’s seat and asked the thing most pressing on his mind.
“You wanna tell me why you own a car when you live in Manhattan?”
Michelle sputtered out a laugh. “How long have you been wondering that?”
“Since you picked me up at LaGuardia.”
Her lips curved in an easy smile as she watched the road. “I needed it when I was living in the Bronx, and it seemed easier to keep it, since I drive up to visit my family a lot. Sometimes I leave it there and take the train, but as you’ve seen, I have amazing luck at finding parking spots.”
“It must be brujería. There’s no other explanation.”
She laughed again, and the sound reached inside him and alleviated a weight he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying.
The day had been a whirlwind of emotions, but Michelle had been a steadying force for him through it all. It had also been that way when they were kids. After getting into it with his dad, he could always rely on Michelle to cheer him up.
“There’s something I’ve been wondering too,” she said.
“Oh?”
She cut him an apprehensive look, and he had a feeling he knew where this was going. “You said this morning that you hadn’t talked to your parents in nine years.”
“That’s right.”
“Did something . . . specific happen?”
He raised his eyebrows. “No one told you?”
“What do you mean?”
“My sister’s wedding. Your parents were there. Monica and Junior too.”
Her face scrunched up in thought. “Where was I?”
“In Paris with Jasmine.”
“Oh right. Something happened at the wedding?”
Gabe leaned back in his seat, stunned. “I can’t believe they didn’t tell you.”
Her face shuttered. “They knew how your leaving affected me, so I can only guess they made a secret pact to never mention you again.”
He reached over and put a hand on her thigh, sliding it up and down in a gentle, soothing motion. “I hate that I hurt you.”
“Likewise,” she said quietly. “I should have been a better friend.”
“You know, I used to fall asleep narrating emails to you in my head,” he confessed.
“You did?” She said it like she didn’t believe it.
“I missed you so much, Mich.” For some reason, in the darkened car, with the white noise of traffic all around them and the smoothly flowing Hudson River stretching alongside on the left, it was easier to confess the depths of his feelings for her. “Especially when it was quiet.”
She snorted, but her expression softened. “It’s never quiet when I’m around.”
“Exactly.” A smile curved his lips, unbidden. “You used to fill the silence, with stories, questions, memories, whatever. I always knew what you were thinking and feeling. And then, suddenly, I didn’t.”
“I emailed you,” she murmured. “More than once.”
“I know. There was so much I wanted to say, and I didn’t know how.”
“Like what?” she whispered.
Like “I love you.” But he still didn’t know how to say that, so he didn’t.
“Like what happened at my sister’s wedding. You would’ve gotten a kick out of it.”
“Really?”
He was relieved she accepted the return to a somewhat lighter subject. “The drama of it all. My brother-in-law, Patrick, owed Nikki twenty bucks.”
“For what?”
“Nikki bet her husband that my dad and I would cause a scene. Patrick—bless him—was sure we wouldn’t. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.”
“And Nikki was right.” Michelle sighed. “What happened?”
“Tío Marco—you remember him?”
“Of course. Your godfather.”
“Right. He made some crack about me playing for the Yankees. He was kidding, but that set my dad off.”
“Why did you stop playing baseball, anyway?”
“Hurt my knee, got more interested in sports medicine and rehab.”
“And that led to physical therapy. Gotcha.”
His chest warmed, glad that she was able to make those kinds of connections about him. “My dad said some shit about me thinking I was too good for the Yankees—”
“Um, excuse me, Esteban,” she cut in, addressing Past Dad as if he were in the car with them. “Who thinks they’re too good for the Yankees?”
“Not me. I reminded him that I’d gotten injured, which led him to bring up my student loans. You know how my dad feels about debt.”
“Oh, I remember. I was present for some of those conversations.”
Conversations was putting it mildly. Even lectures didn’t come close. They were more like tirades. Gabe shook off the memories.
“He started in on my job at the time. I was working as a personal trainer, building up my client base, while looking into physical therapy programs. And he acted like I was just hanging out, lifting weights for fun.”
Try as he might to squash it down, the memory of old hurts rose up. Gabe had been so fucking done that day. Done being belittled and talked down to because he’d dared have dreams of his own. Because he’d had the gall to follow those dreams, even though it meant leaving his family—a cardinal sin, in his father’s eyes.
His parents had acted like it was fucking easy to leave everything he’d known to move across the country. Like he hadn’t worked his ass off. And when he’d finally found the thing that fulfilled him, they’d treated it like it was nothing, because it didn’t fit their dream for him.
Gabe remembered the next part clearly. His mother had tried to shush him, but he’d stood up to his father, once and for all.
Even if I carry it with me to my grave, every cent of debt is worth it. It got me away from the store. It got me out of the house. And it got me away from you.
Gabe had gotten up to leave then, feeling like shit for ruining his sister’s wedding, his father’s shouts echoing behind him in Spanish. And then, in English . . .
“Don’t come back,” Gabe repeated out loud, the words overlapping with his father’s voice in his mind. “That’s the last thing he said to me.�
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Michelle sucked in a breath. “That’s what I said to you,” she whispered, shooting him a pained look.
Whatever, Gabe. Run away to California. Run away, and don’t ever come back.
“I remember,” he murmured.
“God, no wonder you left all of us behind.” Her voice held anguish. “None of us got it. Got you.”
“I had this feeling that if I stayed in New York for college, my life was never going to be my own.” It was more than he’d planned to say, but it was the truth. He’d needed space to grow up outside the family unit, away from the crushing weight of his father’s expectations.
He just wished it hadn’t meant leaving Michelle too. At the time, it seemed necessary. And it was yet another thing he blamed his parents for.
He shifted in the seat. “I’m just surprised your sister never told you about the wedding.”
“Monica? Why?”
“She came out to talk to me when I was waiting for a taxi. Told me you were okay, had a good job.”
Michelle narrowed her eyes, as if looking back into the past. “I was already at Rosen and Anders by then.”
“Monica said it paid well.”
“It did. Until I decided the cost to my health was too damn high.”
She’d mentioned burnout before. But they’d poked enough old wounds for one night, so he tried to lighten the mood.
“Seen any good movies lately?” he asked.
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Damn right I am.”
And maybe she was also feeling emotionally wrung out, because she asked if he’d seen the Beyond the Stars fifteenth-anniversary panel at Comic-Con, and when he said he hadn’t, she launched into a play-by-play of the banter and behind-the-scenes gossip.
And for a moment, it felt just like old times.
But better.
MICHELLE HAD FORGOTTEN the condoms in her apartment, but that didn’t stop them from getting creative in Gabe’s bed after they returned. To her own surprise, Michelle actually let him go down on her. It wasn’t something she did often—it felt more vulnerable, like losing control, something she’d previously avoided at all costs. But with Gabe, it had felt okay to release the reins and see what kind of pleasure he could bring her.
And boy, had he delivered.
After that, Michelle made good on the striptease she owed him, and proceeded to blow his mind in every sense of the word.
Once they were done and had cleaned up, Michelle made him flip over onto his stomach so she could thoroughly examine the tattoo on his back. It was fairly large, taking up about a fifth of the real estate, and blended the flags of Mexico and Puerto Rico with flora and fauna, forming a cohesive whole.
“Is this your only one?” she asked, trailing her fingers over the ink.
“You’ve seen every inch of me, so if there were more, I don’t know where I’d be hiding them.”
She grinned and gave him a poke. “I knew someone in college who had a tattoo on the inside of their lower lip.”
Gabe narrowed his eyes at her from where his cheek was pillowed on his arms. “Michelle, I do not have a tattoo inside my mouth.”
“Just checking.” She returned her attention to his broad back. “When did you get this?”
He hesitated before answering. “After I stopped talking to my family.”
She’d suspected as much. It broke her heart to imagine Gabe as a young man, alone and cut off from his family, his heritage.
She kept her voice light. “Can I guess what it means?”
He closed his eyes. “Go for it.”
“I recognize this one. It’s the Taíno symbol for the coquí. And is this one . . . an eagle?”
He nodded. “An Aztec eagle.”
Michelle studied the tattoo, the meanings whirling in her head. The coquí were a species of frog native to Puerto Rico. The little frogs were small but resilient, and they made their voices heard. They came out at night, whereas the strong and majestic eagle symbolized the sun, and the place where the Aztec people had founded what was now Mexico City.
“The styles represent the original inhabitants of the places where you’re from, before colonialism attempted to wipe them out,” Michelle guessed. “Am I right?”
“One hundred percent.” Then he pulled her close and kissed her until she was breathless.
She fell asleep in his arms, but halfway through the night she got up and slipped through the adjoining bathroom to her own bed in the craft room.
As she tried to fall back to sleep with Jezebel snuggled into her side, she was forced to admit she was already breaking too many of her own rules with Gabe. Orgasms during sex, letting him go down on her—she swallowed hard at the memory of his tongue between her legs—talking about her feelings. Sleeping beside him, being completely vulnerable in repose, was the last barrier remaining.
And she needed it. If she let herself get used to sleeping with him, even for one night, it would make the pain of his inevitable departure unbearable.
She rolled onto her side and petted Jezebel, who let out a grunt at being disturbed. As the cat settled down again, Michelle reflected on their conversation in the car.
She understood now why Gabe had been so anxious to leave the Bronx, and so angry at her for dragging him back here. She’d always liked his parents, and she could see now that while they’d been kind to her, Gabe had suffered under the weight of their expectations more than she’d ever realized. He had good reason to be estranged from them.
His life was in Los Angeles now. She got that. But maybe opening another gym in New York would give him a reason to visit more often. And maybe that would allow them to continue exploring this new evolution of their old friendship.
Michelle didn’t need to spend every second of every day with somebody. The whole reason she’d worked so hard to buy her apartment was so she could have a place that was hers and hers alone. Unlike the rest of her marriage-obsessed family, Michelle was fine on her own.
But she wasn’t opposed to occasional companionship. If Gabe were to visit New York on a regular basis . . . well, that could be enough.
Lying in her bed with him had been too easy, had felt too right. Seeing him walking around her apartment in his underwear, perfectly at home, had, for the first time in a long time, made her wish for more. Someone she could talk to and share experiences with, someone who would see her.
The way Gabe had when they were younger.
Plus, Jezebel liked him. On the way to the real estate office, Gabe said he’d woken up that morning with Jezebel curled up against his neck—although he’d made it sound like he’d wished it had been Michelle in bed with him instead.
It was hard not to take that as a sign.
Maybe, after all this time, they were being given another chance.
HALF ASLEEP, GABE stretched his arm across the mattress, reaching for Michelle. The other side of the bed was empty and cold, until he reached a pile of warm, purring fur.
He cracked his eyes open to find Jezebel watching him with an enigmatic gaze.
“Where’d she go?” he grumbled at the cat. Jezebel took it as some sort of invitation and padded over to drape her body across his neck, nearly suffocating him. “Fine, I’ll pet you.”
Ten minutes later, Gabe found Michelle in the kitchen loading the dishwasher. “I was looking for you.”
“I’m right here.” She bent over to jam utensils into the holder. “Coffee’s on the counter.”
Gabe glanced at the little mug of café con leche and, after only a moment’s hesitation, grabbed it and took a sip. His eyelids fluttered shut as the first heavenly taste hit his tongue, a reminder of his old coffee habit. Michelle must have made it especially for him, since she was primarily a tea drinker. But he wouldn’t allow it to distract him from the conversation at hand.
“I meant I was looking for you in my bed.”
She shrugged and fit drinking glasses into the top rack. “I don’t sleep with people.”
Gabe let out a snort and set down his mug to pass her the dishes from last night’s dinner. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“No, I mean I don’t share beds overnight with sexual partners.”
Gabe frowned as he gave the frying pan another rinse before handing it to her. “Is this some Pretty Woman shit? Like how Julia Roberts wouldn’t kiss Richard Gere?”
She straightened, a look of surprise making her amber eyes go wide. “You remember that?”
“Come on, Mich. You made me watch that movie at least a dozen times.”
“And how many times did you make me watch Scarface?”
“Touché.”
She closed the dishwasher and turned it on, then moved to the sink to rinse her hands.
“And yes,” he heard her mutter, barely audible over the sound of running water. “It is some Pretty Woman shit.”
Chuckling, he came up behind her and slipped his fingers under the hem of her shirt, skimming them up her ribs to tease the undersides of her breasts.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” she warned. “We don’t have any condoms, remember?”
“Hmm. Right.”
It was Thursday. He was leaving later the next day. They hadn’t made a ton of progress on the campaign—or at least, he hadn’t. Hell, he couldn’t even decide which of the five locations he liked best. Michelle’s laptop was already open on the dining table, surrounded by a slew of fancy pens and pencils he wasn’t allowed to use and a sketch pad he wasn’t allowed to look at. Meanwhile, the worksheet she’d given him Tuesday was still only halfway done.
He heard the slam of a car door and sneaked into the living room to peer out the window. Through the lace curtains, he could just make out the form of his father sitting in the SUV parked in his parents’ driveway. The car started, then backed out and took off down the street.
Gabe went to the kitchen doorway. “My dad just left. I can run to the pharmacy for condoms if you give me your car keys.”
“What?” She looked up from the laptop screen and blinked at him. “Oh. The key fob. It’s in my bag.”
She pointed at the red purse sitting on the kitchen counter and he sifted through at least half a dozen lipstick tubes before he found what he was looking for.
