Our Broken Pieces
Page 14
I can’t help but smile, and I feel the negative voice in my head get a little quieter. He makes me happy and being with him like this feels right. “Yeah. I’m good.” He looks at me a little suspiciously, then nods his head and leads us to the directory. We decide that the steakhouse would be perfect and make our way over. The tables are set with white cloths and fancy napkins, and the staff is dressed in slacks and button-down shirts.
Gabe pulls my chair out for me and then sits across our small table for two. We both order sodas and when the waitress leaves, he reaches over to my side and takes my hand in his, turning it over so he can rub my palm with his thumb.
“What’s going on in your head? I can see that you’re distracted.” His eyes move from my palm to my eyes and before he can move them away again I see a hint of worry. My stomach drops and it suddenly becomes a little harder to breathe.
I clear my throat. “There are these moments when I realize that I’m doing things I never thought I’d be doing again. It just hits me. Like when we were crossing the street back there, I was thinking about how excited I am to be here with you and how much this feels like a real first date.” His face softens.
“And you’re worried about that?” he asks. I nod my head and reach my other hand out to his, squeezing until he looks into my eyes.
“I’m afraid if this turns into something more it will end badly. I love being friends with you and I don’t want anything to ruin that.”
“I love being friends with you too, but I also want more.” He pulls my hands a little closer. “We don’t have to rush it. I know you’re afraid and I understand where that fear comes from. I can’t promise we’ll be happy together forever, but I can give you my word that I would never do to you what he did.” His words make me smile and I feel myself fall a little in love with him. It’s an incredible feeling, almost euphoric. My breath catches as I watch Gabe reach for his menu, completely unaware of what’s happening inside me as we sit here.
The waitress returns to the table, but I haven’t even glanced at the fine black print of the menu. My eyes are locked on Gabe, and everything else is just noise in the background.
Those bright, multicolored eyes are back on mine and Gabe’s lips are pulled up into a crooked smile. I feel like I’m melting. His head tips to the side and his eyes flash to the waitress. They are waiting for me and I shake my head to try to focus on what I’m supposed to be doing. I order the first thing I see and she excuses herself, leaving me alone with him again.
“What are we doing, Gabe?” I ask, needing to know if he really thinks we could give this a try.
He leans forward with his elbows on the table. “Whatever you want.” His tone is serious, and his eyes shine bright with hope and honesty. “I’m just waiting for you to lead the way. I know that neither of us is perfect, but I like the way our broken pieces fit together.”
I feel a tear slip down my cheek and for the first time in over a month, it’s a tear of happiness instead of pain. His hand lifts slowly and wipes it from my face and then his fingers hook beneath my chin and he urges me forward, his lips drifting closer to mine. In the middle of a fancy restaurant, among the clinking of silverware against china, he kisses me. He kisses me like no one is watching, like it’s as necessary as breathing, and I kiss him back, because since the first day we met I haven’t stopped falling for him. It’s a dive and a race, a rush forward into the scary unknown, and I’ve never looked forward to anything more.
“I love being with you, Gabe. You make me forget all the crazy things that run through my mind. I’m just so afraid to lose this.” I chuckle a little. “I even told my sister she’s to slap me if I hand over my heart again, and yet here I am with you probably doing exactly what I told her to stop me from doing.”
“So then what do you want this to be? And you’ll break my heart if you say ‘just friends.’” His adorable smile makes my own grow larger. “Friends aren’t supposed to kiss each other.” He reaches for his water and takes a sip. He hasn’t moved out of the space we share over the small table.
“No, I guess they aren’t,” I tease. “Do we have to give it a label? I’m afraid once we do it will be ruined. Besides, I don’t want everyone watching and waiting for us to fail.” I take a sip of my water too, as my anxiety begins to build, and I can feel my heart pounding and my hands getting a little shaky as I set the glass back down.
“I don’t need a label. That’s not what this is about.” I feel a wave of relief at his words, that he’s not pressing me to define “us.” I know he’s a great guy and I don’t want to lose him, but I also don’t want to get lost in him and make the same mistake I made with Brady. I’m hoping when the time is right to make things more serious, I’ll know it.
twenty-three
THE LIGHTS DIM as we make our way to our seats. The arena is filling up fast and as the darkness ignites the energy in the room, Gabe tugs me to the front row of the first section. I can see the stage so clearly my amazement makes my smile almost painful. We aren’t in the group of screaming girls gathered at the foot of the stage, but we are close enough that I’m going to be able to see the performers’ fingers as they play their instruments.
Lights flash up on the stage as the opening act begins to pound out their unique beat, trumpets and drums bellowing out into the crowd, making it impossible to sit still. Every time I look at Gabe, he’s watching me, a beautiful smile on his face. He reaches for my hand and when the band clears the stage, he pulls my hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to it.
“Are you having fun?” he asks.
“Yes! I can’t believe we’re here. I bet my ears are going to be ringing by the time we’re finished.” I tuck some hair behind my ear and he uses his free hand to do the same to the hair on the other side of my head. His expression tells me that he’s having fun just watching me enjoy this so much.
“I’m sure they will, but you’ll recover, I promise.” He kisses me gently.
“Sometimes the experience is worth the pain.” He may not know it, but growing close to him I’m learning the experience of being with him could be worth any pain I might feel over it in the future.
The lights dim again and this time a single large spotlight follows Ed Sheeran out onto the stage. He starts to play, and I’m completely mesmerized by the way his fingers glide so easily over the strings of his guitar. The screens behind him light up with images of colorful toy blocks as he sings of building a Lego house. The words resonate with me, they seem so perfectly suited to my relationship with Gabe. Ed sings of promises of picking up the pieces, mending the broken, and shelter from the storms. The crowd around us sways along to his heartfelt plea to surrender his heart and swap it for his lover’s.
Gabe is watching the Legos on the screen building and then breaking apart, morphing into different images. I thought I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off the stage, but now I’m struggling to decide whether I want to watch the performance, or Gabe’s reaction to it. His eyes dart over to mine and he cocks a brow before pointing to the brightly colored toys climbing up into the dark sky beyond the screens.
I’ve been listening to these songs while I run, but nothing compares to hearing them performed live. My heart is soaring and I feel like I’m in on something special, even though there are thousands of people at this concert. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
The slow strum of his guitar pulls me in as he records the first layer of a song on the loop station. He does this a few times, changing the pace or adding something until finally the song comes together as he steps back and closes his eyes, focusing on playing in harmony with the songs he’s just created in front of us. When he steps up to the microphone and sings the first few words of “Kiss Me,” I scream along with all the other girls.
Grinning at me, Gabe stands up and pulls me to my feet so that we are facing each other. My body molds to his as one strong arm wraps around my waist and steadies me against him. His other hand is still holding mine and ou
r faces are now inches apart. We rock back and forth, dancing as if the song was written for us, knowing every word. He smiles at me and I don’t worry that we are in anyone’s way or that the space we are occupying is too small for dancing. Everything wrong is unimportant and the only things I care about are those that bring us together.
When the song finally fades, Gabe’s lips press to mine and he pulls my hand in his between us so they are wedged between our hearts. He kisses me and I feel my legs grow weak, my heart swelling so much it’s hard to breathe. I let go of his hand so I can wrap my arms around him and his arms cinch tight around my waist, pulling me so close I have to rise up on my toes. He releases me with a kiss to my forehead when the next song begins.
I pray that the concert will never end because I don’t think the night could get any better, but when I find myself in the truck with Gabe afterward, sitting in the dark parking lot by the airport near our houses, I know I was wrong. It’s perfect. This time we sit inside the cab since it’s a little cold out. The music is playing as we recall the performance and watch the planes take off over us.
“Best concert ever!” I yell even though I don’t have anything else to compare it to. He laughs and tugs me closer to him on the seat.
“What was your favorite song?”
“There is no way I could pick! Are you kidding? Each one was amazing.” I turn my body toward him and watch his eyes dip down to my bare legs. I scoot closer to him and lay my head on his shoulder. His hand moves to my knee, his thumb tracing small circles on the inside of my leg.
A loud plane flies over, silencing our conversation. I rest my hand on his. When the plane is gone, he turns to me and puts his hands lightly around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. It takes a little adjusting, but quickly I’m straddling him, my skirt pushed up enough to allow my legs to fall on either side of his. I love my view from up here, his brilliant eyes shining up at me and his soft lips waiting to meet mine.
“Everly, you look absolutely beautiful tonight.” His voice is a rough whisper and he lets his lips lightly brush mine. I feel his warm hands on my hips slipping a little lower, gripping me and sliding me forward to him.
I let my head fall back as he trails kisses down my neck, his hands gliding up to cup my breasts. I move my hips and roll them, loving the low groan that escapes his throat as I rub against him and he rocks his hips up to meet me. My hands keep his lips on my skin, directing him to where I want them the most. The tingle of his touch has me crazy with need.
“Everly,” he says with a moan. I try hard to focus my half-lidded eyes on his face, feeling the way my cheeks are flushed with desire.
“Gabe,” I answer with a sly smile, seeing in his face how badly he wants this—needs this like I do. His low chuckle vibrates through my body, sending goose bumps across my skin.
“Tell me you’re ready for me to touch you,” he whispers, his eyes hazy with desire. He looks straight into my eyes, letting me know he won’t push me further than I want. I trail the tip of my tongue along his lower lip and feel him press up against me while pulling me down a little more roughly against him. His eyes close as the pleasure courses through us.
“I’m ready.”
His right hand moves from its place on my hip and slides down over my skirt before trailing up my thigh, pushing the soft fabric up with it. When I feel his thumb graze my panties I exhale sharply, tipping my hips up in a silent plea for him to relieve the need that has been building inside of me.
His eyes are on my face, watching as I experience his touch.
I feel empowered on top of him. The confidence I’ve lost this last month comes pumping back through me with the look in his eyes and the way he seems desperate to touch me. I am desirable. I am wanted. I am needed. And with each touch of his fingers I’m sure I’ve never felt so good in my entire life. My eyes fly open, staring into his, expressing to him the words I can’t seem to form with my mouth. Please don’t stop.
I close my eyes again and surrender, trusting him completely. I suck in a breath, my heart pounding so fiercely I know he can feel it where my chest touches his. “God, you’re incredible,” he whispers, kissing my head and holding me tightly to him.
I reach for the button on his jeans but his hand covers mine and stills my movement. I’m surprised and sit back and open my eyes so I can see his face. He smiles at me and slowly shakes his head. “One step at a time, beautiful. I don’t want you to wake up to any regrets.” He holds me a little longer before he takes me home, insisting I wear his hoodie up to the door so I don’t get cold. He doesn’t have to insist much; I gladly take it, not daring to tell him that I’ll be sleeping in it so I can be wrapped in his warmth and his scent.
twenty-four
I DON’T WAKE up to regrets. My body feels alive with energy and I can’t resist putting Gabe’s hoodie on over my clothes before leaving for school. I play my music loud on the ride to campus, happy that I can picture Ed singing each word now that I’ve seen it in person.
As expected, Gabe is already at my locker, leaning against the one beside mine with a shy grin on his face. I want to kiss him, and it’s such a powerful feeling that it seems to burst past any apprehension over what other kids will think. I stop in front of him and look into his eyes, loving the way his smile stretches across his handsome face.
“Any regrets, Everly?” he asks playfully, causing my cheeks to feel heated and my own smile to grow.
“Not even one,” I whisper. I put a few of my books into my locker while Gabe waits for me. I finally give the door a small push and twist the lock to clear the combo, then turn so I’m facing him again. “Got a second?” Gabe nods and follows me down the hallway to a stairwell that is almost always empty. I give him a sly smile.
That’s all it takes. He reaches for me, pulling me close to him and pressing a kiss to my lips. My hands flatten out against his broad chest and I love the rush of adrenaline that courses through my veins. I’m on my tiptoes now, letting his tongue into my mouth and feeling the heat of his body against my own.
He lets go of me and it feels like I’m falling back to earth, even though I’m only lowered about an inch. He gives me one last chaste kiss and then pulls back so I can see his face. “We’re about to have an audience.” We both hear the sound of feet noisily descending the staircase. “Are you sitting with me at lunch?”
“Yes. I’ll meet you here after fourth period.” His eyes lift over my shoulder and I know he’s worried about me being a topic of conversation at school even more than I already am. I put my hand lightly on the side of his face and his eyes fall down to mine. This time I lean up and capture his lips with my own. He’s still at first, not sure what to do, but then his hands find my hips and I can feel him smile against my lips.
The day seems to drag on, but finally the bell rings for lunch. I leave my fourth period class and head for the locker bay, beating him there. I grab the sack lunch I packed with him in mind. There are more cookies than sources of protein and I know that he will have brought two sports drinks since I usually take most of his. It occurs to me that we’ve already switched a few small parts of our lives from mine and yours to ours. Lunch is ours, this hoodie is ours, and our Tuesday appointments are ours.
When Gabe rounds the corner of the locker bay I can see that something is wrong. His face is serious and he is typing out something on his phone. I watch as he runs his hand up the back of his head like he seems to do when he’s nervous or worried.
“What’s the matter?” I ask when he stops next to me.
“Maggie has been texting me all morning. It’s nonstop and I’m worried. I can’t get ahold of my mom or dad and I’m beginning to freak out.” I reach for him, wrapping my free arm around his back and peeking at his phone as he sends the message.
“What’s she saying?”
“That’s just it. She isn’t making very much sense. She says she needs to go running and I told her to wait for me. I don’t think she should go alone. She’s at the sp
orting goods store right now buying new running clothes. My parents gave back her access to her bank account, but I think she might be going a little overboard.”
I look up into his tired eyes and see the fear that is beginning to build behind them. “Maybe you should go home and check on her. Has she been taking her meds?”
He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders a little. “I don’t know.” He tucks his phone into his back pocket, but the worry on his face remains.
The kids around us are clearing out, leaving us in a nearly empty locker bay. “What can I do to help?” I ask, feeling completely useless.
“There’s nothing anyone can do. She has to be healthy enough to want to stay that way. Even if we all fight for her, we can’t do anything unless she fights for herself.” My arms are around him now, his head resting against my shoulder. I hold him like he held me that first time.
I can feel him taking in long breaths, trying hard to remain calm when we both know his world is beginning to spin a little crazy. “Go home, Gabe. Go be with her. She might need you.”
“I’m scared.” His voice is barely a whisper and his tone and words send goose bumps down my spine and along my arms. I close my eyes and hold him tight, trying hard to express that I won’t let him go until he is ready. I nod against his cheek.
“I can go with you.”
“I should do this on my own. She’s my sister for the rest of my life. I need to get over the fear that her illness is going to take her and I’m going to find her dead.” A big breath escapes me. I can’t imagine having to be fearful of something like that when it came to my sister.
“Text me. I want to know that you’re both okay.” I hold him for a minute longer and then he pulls away and his mask of calm is back in place.
“Thank you. I’ll text as soon as I can.” I walk him to the visitors’ gate and watch as he slips through and out to the parking lot. My stomach is in knots and my heart is aching for him.