Mind Over Matter

by Kaia Bennett

It would be as simple as breathing in synch with her like he was in that moment. Simplicity didn't exist here, though. He had to fight every second to block out his hunger and the world beyond this moment, a world that would intrude and pull her away from him again. But he fought for their former, simple magic anyway. He fought to have a piece of her without scaring her away.

  "I remember the first time I played this for you," he continued. And then he sang to her, his voice soft and raspy, barely above a whisper.

  The first time he'd played this she'd already heard the original version. She'd liked that one and had been convinced it couldn't be done better. But he'd always liked the lesser-known acoustic version the band taped live. She'd been standing in the middle of the room, her hair up in a ponytail that skimmed her neck, in shorts and a t-shirt to combat the summer heat. Her body was still, her head tilted to the side and eyes staring towards the floor, while she waited with skepticism to hear a better version of one of her favorite songs.

  It was acoustic and simple. Grainy. It skimmed over a person's skin like a trailing kiss. She blinked and her lips parted in surprise, dumbstruck by how something so familiar could be given new life with just a tweak to the arrangement. She'd looked like she was about to cry for a moment. He knew now that she almost did, having seen what tears looked like glittering in her eyes.

  He memorized the moment her eyes shot up to his and she smiled, fierce in her ability to show exactly what she was feeling. With music and books, with the ones she loved. With him. She'd always worn it all in those beautiful dark eyes, in the twist of her full lips. Her heart wide and full and resting on her sleeve.

  She'd looked away then, swaying to the magic, and he'd watched her. He'd watched her close her eyes and smile the same smile she would later press against his lips. Love's smile. Even back when he didn't realize what he was seeing, something bloomed within him. Appreciation turned slow as the seasons into what it was now. Full-fledged love. The kind of love that left him both broken and mended just by the sight of her. The kind of love that made him wrap his arms around her and sing to her now — as if that could ever be enough — when all he wanted was to turn her around, kiss her, and tell her to stay with him.

  Love was a double-edged sword, like memories, like time. Love kept him silent. Love kept him from hurting her again by begging her to take him back, when she'd moved on to someone else she may very well love more.

  "I remember you bet me it wouldn't be as good, but I got five bucks off you that day, then treated you to ice cream with it. Or at least I tried to treat you to ice cream..."

  She laughed at that, and he recalled the way she'd gobbled up the coffee ice cream enthusiastically before it plopped to the ground, half eaten.

  "I was trying to get my hair out of my mouth because it was windy and getting caught in the ice cream. Graceful me... my hand bumped it while I was flipping my hair out of the way and it fell."

  "Yeah. You had longer hair back then," he said somewhat wistfully as he placed his chin against her head.

  "Not a fan of the haircut?" she asked with a chuckle.

  "It didn't take away from anything. You still look like you. It still smells like lilacs," he whispered. "I was always a fan of that."

  She turned around then, but he didn't release her. He swept his hand to the small of her back, held her other hand close to his chest, against his heart.

  "Gabriel Roberts?" She took on a mock Southern accent, affecting the air of a young debutante. But her voice wavered with nervousness. Or maybe, something else? “What ever are you doing?"

  He looked down at her eyes wavering with uneasiness and remembrances of the past. How it was supposed to be before human fallibility got in the way. "Dancing with my good friend, Nicole Langley."

  She swallowed and lowered her eyes to his chest. Then she laughed and shook her head. There was a battle going on within her. She was relaxing into the moment, and gathering up the courage to pull away. He felt it, but he held firm. He wasn't letting go. Not yet.

  Not ever...

  "Just till the end of the song..." she whispered, and he couldn't tell if that was for his benefit, or hers.

  She kept her word. She let them float in comfortable silence to the song, even resting her head against his shoulder for a moment.

  Perfect. That's what it felt like to hold her. He would take any amount of pain afterwards if he could just hold onto this for as long as she would let him. He would have felt pathetic, if he weren't trying to block everything else out and grip the clarity of this moment. But it was already slipping away. A slight panic gripped him as the music started to fade, growing dimmer and dimmer like this moment he was stealing with her in present time. Another illusion coming undone.

  She stilled, and part of him read that movement as easily as he used to read her sighs of pleasure, her eyes, and the lilt in her voice. This was comfortable. This was something that had been planted in them a long time ago. Part of her wanted to stay. He wanted to believe that.

  But when she started pulling away, he broke the embrace first. He stepped away and headed for the box of books. He picked four, turned and looked over his shoulder at her and smiled.

  "Heads up," he said, tossing her one book. He was careful to lob it slowly so she didn't miss it.

  She did catch it. But then she stood there looking at him as if she wasn’t sure what just happened. He tried to ignore that look, walked to the bookshelf with the intent to do so. He shelved one book, two books. Then he stopped.

  "I would never do that to you, Nic. You know that, don't you?" When he turned to look over his raised arm where it still clung to the top shelf, he found her looking up at him, her eyes quizzical. "I wouldn't ruin our friendship by trying to come onto you. I wouldn't touch you... without you asking me to. I would never hurt you." Again.

  She blinked once. Twice. Three, four times.

  "Oh." She nodded, as if finally processing what he meant. "Oh, I know. I know you wouldn't. I didn't think…"

  Of course they both knew that's what she'd been thinking. She let the sentence die, but he wouldn't let the subject go that easily. Not until she understood just what he meant. "Not that I would be opposed to hooking up with a gorgeous girl..."

  She chuckled and averted her eyes, shaking her head. "I'll bet you wouldn't, rock star. But this one's off-limits." She walked to the shelf, a little more at ease in her body language. Humor was good. She could deal with humor.

  But what he really meant to say was serious.

  He knew he shouldn't say this. He knew that speaking too close to the subject could crack the very fragile ground they found themselves on in this moment. He still had to say it. He still needed to be the kind of honest he couldn't be when they were together. He needed to believe they could get past this, too.

  "If you weren't off-limits, it would be a different story entirely."

  "Cute, Gabriel. Real cute."

  "No, little girl," he said quietly, invoking the old nickname to drive home how serious he was. The way he wanted to drive himself into her at that moment. "Not cute. True."

  She looked at him and swallowed, stared up at him with so many mixed emotions that if he hadn't known her he could have mistaken the look for fear. But he did know her. He knew what lust looked like in those beautiful dark eyes, they way the dark fringe of her lashes beat a lazier rhythm when her thoughts were circling the same subject his were circling now. If this was fear, she was as afraid of herself as she was him.

  "Gabriel," she whispered, taking a step back as if she were afraid he’d devour her.

  She was right to be afraid. He felt like he could do just that. He felt his entire body tighten with intentions he hadn't acted on in over a year. He felt the spark between them light, but it wouldn't turn into flame. Not when her obligation to Travis — her own fear of what he was saying — kept dousing it out.

  "You said you were okay with us being just friends. If you're not, I understand, Gabe. I do. I'll leave you alone. But, I
won't... I can't..."

  "I wouldn't try to get between you and... and someone else," he said, unable to utter the finality of Travis' name. "I know what it's like to be on the other side, to be the person hurting someone who’s waiting for you at home. And I wouldn't wish that kind of guilt on anyone, least of all you."

  She bit down hard on her bottom lip, searching his eyes and breathing through her nose shallowly. The guilt he still harbored to this day was plain to see; he made sure it was. He made sure she knew how strongly he felt about not leading her into that kind of temptation, if he could help it.

  "I'm your friend; I don't want to give that up. And I haven't always been honest with you like I should have been," he said quietly. He took a step towards her, then another. "I'm trying to make up for that now, Nicole. So, I'm gonna stop lying to you and myself and just say what needs to be said. You gonna hear me out?"

  The sight of her teeth digging into the flesh of her bottom lip drove the primal urges in him to crazy proportions. He almost heard himself growl at the slight hitch in her breath, at the slow nod of her head, as if she didn't have the presence of mind to speak, that a nod was all she could muster. That turned him on even more.

  He took another step, close enough to her now to whisper under the music. "If he wasn't in the picture... if you were free to do what you pleased, I wouldn't hesitate. I wouldn't hold back, not for a second, Nic. I want you in my life and so I'll take whatever you're willing to give and I won't ask for more. Not unless you want to give me more."

  He licked his lips and her teeth released her bottom lip. It was slick, red, and her jaw was slack with awe.

  "I don't know what to say to that, Gabe." She looked as if she wanted to take a step back, a step forward. She looked as confused as she must have felt, the wheels in her head turning over what he'd just said. "I don't know what you want me to say..."

  He shook his head and gave her a small, sad smile. But his eyes remained firm, and he didn't shy away from his next words. "You don't have to say anything. And we don't ever have to bring it up again. Nothing has to change now except that you know. You know now if you woke up tomorrow, a week from now... a year from now... and you decided that you want to give me more than this, I'll be here to take it. All of it."

  The shiver that subtly coursed over her skin made his fingers flex, tingling with the pang of arousal that shot through his body. He wiggled them and then clenched them into fists, shoved them into his pockets to keep from reaching out and testing her resistance. He took a step back, and nodded.

  "That's all I wanted to say. We're still cool. Right? Still friends?"

  She nodded absently. Her eyes were staring right through him. "Yeah, everything's totally cool. We're still friends."

  "Sweet," he said. He let his eyes twinkle with the weight of his words, let her see just for a moment what he'd been willing to do to her if she'd said, right then, that she wanted to give him more. Then he closed the door on that part of himself. He felt better, stronger. He felt like he might be able to get through this if he could claim a little bit of his power back through the truth.

  He strode back to the box of books and started shelving them again. She followed suit. And after a moment of awkward silence with the soundtrack of their past playing in the background, he brought up her book and her upcoming party. Grateful for the change in subject matter she dove into talking about her first publishing venture. Soon his words faded into the background, just like all the tension and longing between them.

  Faded, but not forgotten.

  Chapter Nine

  "Seriously, who fucking writes this shit?"

  Trish nibbled on her cheese stick and blinked before letting her eyes dart casually over the tabloid magazine Nicole held in her hand. They were lounging in her apartment, trying to decide what to do with their Saturday evening. "The same people who said Angelina and Brad were doing the naked dance, I would imagine. Can't all be a pack of lies," she said with a sly grin.

  "Fuck you, Trish, this is bad. This is very, very bad."

  Nicole stared down at the tabloid headline and proceeded to read it out loud, her voice full of disbelief. "'Gabriel Roberts, the super-hot guitarist of indie rock sensation Fool the World, appears to be replacing super model Yelena Marchenko with a blast from his past'?"

  Nicole looked up at Trish as if she were about to puke, and Trish, being a true friend, at least attempted to wince before snickering.

  "'The mystery girl seen leaving his new apartment, it turns out, is soon-to-be published author and former girlfriend, Nicole Langley. The couple split a year and a half ago, but has been spotted around town since Fool the World hit the studio to finish their sophomore album. A source close to both says, 'They tried to move on, but they just couldn't. They still love each other and want to work things out'... You wouldn't be the 'source' would ya, ol' buddy, ol' pal of mine?"

  Trish snorted. "Please, if I was gonna sell you out, I'd go bigger, baby. People magazine, at least."

  "'Someone should tell Travis Crane, Nicole's current boyfriend and the man she was seen kissing just days after meeting with her ex. Gabriel's former flame appears to still be dating him while she cozies up to the ever more popular rock star'. Oh, my fucking Go—"

  "Nic! Chillax, okay? It's just a stupid tabloid."

  Nicole held it up. Two pictures, one of her kissing her boyfriend several days earlier before he headed back to work from lunch and she headed to a meeting with her publisher. The other was of her hugging Gabriel goodbye after grabbing a bite to eat. From the look of her outfit it was the day she went out with the whole band after she met them at the studio. Of course, the paparazzi had conveniently withheld the pics where she hugged all the guys goodbye. Just as well; the last thing she needed was a headline saying she was the pass-around groupie for the whole band.

  This time Trish winced for real.

  "Mmkay, so, yeah. It looks... not great... but you know the truth, don't you? That's all that matters. You're with Travis now and you're over Gabriel. End of story, right?"

  The truth was she was in a fucking nightmare! The truth was that after she left Gabriel's apartment, she'd rushed home, pacing her empty place to combat the volcanic emotions inside her. His eyes, his mouth, his body, that sexy indent in his chin, the sound of his voice when he spoke those words to her, those horrible, Pandora's-box-opening words.

  A thought she couldn’t bring herself to heed kept echoing in her mind.

  You should end this. Now.

  She'd opened the fridge, closed it.

  If Travis knew what just happened. If he knew what Gabe can do to you with just a look…

  She'd turned on the TV, then walked to the window and stared out at the street below, wringing her hands through her hair. Tugging on it the way Gabriel used to.

  I’ll be here to take it. All of it…

  She'd gone to her room and tried to sit down and write.

  Then she'd gone to the bathroom to rinse off her face, which turned into a shower to wash away the restless foreboding that consumed her. And in the process she made herself come to the image of her friend Gabriel. Twice. Her fingers dove in and out of the plush, throbbing folds between her weak legs while the fingers of her other hand attacked her clit. She leaned her head against the wall of the shower, teeth gritted, eyes slammed shut, nipples hard to the point of pain, and she allowed herself for the first time in what seemed like forever to sate her ache for him.

  She knew the truth, alright. And as it turned out it was not, in fact, setting her free. The truth came with a generous helping of guilt and a side order of stubborn pride. But after she got a few orgasms out of the way she felt like her new and improved self again. She refused to make this a bigger deal than it was. It was just a secret lapse in lovers-to-friends etiquette, and it was going to stay a secret. Masturbation wasn’t cheating. It meant nothing.

  "Nic? You're over him... right?"

  "What? Yeah... yeah, yeah, yeah, over him. So... over it.
.."

  "Oh, my fucking Go—"

  "What?! Do not look at me like that, Trish!"

  "You're so not fucking over him. I knew it! I knew it, I swear, I told Chase, I was like, 'baby, she's so not over him', and he actually had the nerve to argue with me about it like I don't know what the hell I'm talking about! But obviously I was right!"

  Trish had the presence of mind to stop talking then and pay attention to the dark, seething female-shaped mass that was once her best friend.

  "You said what? Exactly? To Chase?"

  Trish slumped in her chair, her eyes lowered before she took a bite of cheese stick. "No comment."

  Nicole smirked and tossed the magazine in the trash. "Now you don't have a comment, huh?"

  "Hey, I paid for that, you know? And don't get mad, okay. It was a while ago, and I can be wrong. It's happened before."

  Nicole shook her head, genuinely feeling like she was going to cry.

  "But... it's okay if you're not, Nic. I mean, this is Gabriel Roberts we're talking about. You were riding the crazy train for him a long time."

  "Am I ever going to be allowed to move on, Trish? You, my sister, Travis, even the goddamned media thinks I'm lying to myself and nothing I say or do changes that. It's almost like everyone is trying to get me to cheat or go back to him or something!"

  "That's not it at all, sweetie, that's not what I meant—"

  "And I don't want to!" she wailed, going into full-fledged tantrum mode. "I don't ever want to go back to how horrible I felt when things went wrong with him. And I shouldn't have to just because that what's everyone else thinks, or wants, or believes I want to do. When the fuck do I get to make a decision about my own damn life and have people respect it, huh? Huh?"

  Trish exhaled and spread her fingers out over her kitchen counter, patting it lightly with the pads of her fingertips while staring at Nicole through a safe sidelong glance. "You're right, sweetie. You're so right. But – and don't take this the wrong way –but I think you might also be PMS-ing. Which may account for that animated display and those," she said pointing to the tears Nicole was swiping away before laying her head against her arms.