by Jade Webb
11
Liam
We walk in silence for the first block. Even with the distracting neon lights of the city and the bright yellow taxis that continue to race past us, all I can focus on is Gabby at my side. She has her hands wrapped tightly together and her obvious nervous energy clashes with the peaceful aura of the pre-dawn city. With Gabby next to me, all the buildings, cars and people around us seem to fade into a mess of flashing colors that pale in comparison to the woman walking at my side. How is it that in one day one person can affect how you see everything surrounding you? It made no fucking sense and yet… it did.
I want to open my mouth and say something to comfort her, but my track record with this woman is not so great. I can’t seem to keep from pissing her off, and she’s had a shitty enough night without me saying something stupid again.
“So…,” she says, as I catch her looking over at me. “You’re Scottish.”
“Aye, lass, that I am,” I respond, making a point to exaggerate my brogue, which prompts her to playfully roll her eyes in response, though I do catch the color that rushes to her cheeks. It's adorable, and I make a mental note to try to bring that warm flush to her cheeks again.
“So how did you end up here? With Daphni? Melissa said you were in the military?”
I grin at her questions, excited that she appears to at least be mildly curious about me. It’s a good start and a hell of a boost to my ego.
“Aye. I came here with my mum when I was sixteen. My mum had met some American in this online chat room and they fell in love. He was a military man and a real stand-up guy. He encouraged me to list up, so I joined the Marines after graduating. When I left, I needed a job, and one of my mates from the Marines had started working for this private security company and they needed some guys, so here I am.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Do you like it, then?”
“It pays the bills, I s’pose.”
“You know, she wasn’t always like this,” Gabby adds softly, after a long silence.
“She doesn’t have an easy run of it,” I add. I don’t know what to say and the way her eyes are brimming with tears terrifies me. I have never been known as the comforting type, and I worry that I’ll just say something to make her hurt even more.
“Thank you for saying that,” she responds. And at first, I think she’s just politely blowing me off, but I can see her exhale a deep breath and it’s as if she has somehow managed to expel a little of the sadness she was holding with it. I feel my chest swell a bit with pride at the knowledge that my words had that effect.
“Tell me more about your sister, then. The one you know.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I worry she might think I was interested in her sister and not in her. My fears evaporate, however, when a large smile crosses her face and she excitedly shares her favorite memory with her sister: a time when they had a sleepover and had stayed up all night laughing and playing pranks on their poor brother.
Though I honestly try my best to listen, I keep finding myself so distracted by her lips as she speaks. Her face is so animated when she talks. It’s as if she speaks with her whole body, so passionately. I can easily imagine her in a courtroom, dressed in a tight pencil skirt, a form-fitting white blouse unbuttoned just above those gorgeous breasts, her thick brown hair pulled back in a sexy knot at her neck as she states her case to the judge, her arms waving in excitement as she makes her final blow. The fantasy makes my dick hard and I feel it strain against my pants. I shoot a quick look to make sure she didn’t notice, but she’s moved on to another childhood story and I force myself to ignore the bulge in my pants and focus. Fuck, this girl has too much of an effect on me.
Disappointment rushes over me as soon as we arrive back to the hotel. Even though I know I’m going to see her tomorrow and I have to be back at work in a few hours, I want nothing more than for her to come back to my room. To come to my bed, be under me as we both find a way to put the shitty night behind us. Instead, I push those feelings away and shove my hands in my pockets as we wait for the elevator.
We step into the glass elevator, and fall into an awkward silence until we reach the eighth floor. As the doors chime open, we both quickly stumble out. I turn automatically to the left toward my room as she turns right. We both stop as we see that we are going in opposite directions.
“Well, goodnight,” Gabby says, a subtle crimson blush stealing up her cheeks.
I’m no better and give her a brusque wave like a bumbling arsehole before turning around and retreating into to my suite.
I don’t wait to hear the door click closed behind me before I strip off my shirt and kick off my shoes. My pants are quick to follow and I throw them onto a nearby chair. Collapsing onto my bed, I shove my hand down my boxers and wrap my fingers around the base of my throbbing cock. I’m fucking hard, and I know it’s because of Gabby and that fucking dress and the way her pretty, plump lips curl into a wide smile when she remembers a happy memory, and the way she twirls her finger in her hair when she’s nervous. It’s everything, and it’s fucking crazy that this girl has me this torn up after one day. Perhaps that could be attributed to my eight-month self-imposed celibacy, but even then, I went longer periods without during my enlistment and was never this affected by a woman before.
I continue to think about Gabby, in that perfect dress, as I move my hand up and down the base of my rigid cock. I feel my breath come out in shallow spurts as I grip my shaft and speed up my strokes. Pre-cum spurts out of the tip of my cock as my strokes get more and more frantic. An image of Gabby underneath me, her cheeks flushed red as she lays naked and squirming, eager for my cock, is what finally finishes me off with a loud groan. Cum spills onto my stomach and I take a few seconds to pant and enjoy the afterglow before grabbing a box of tissues from the bedside and cleaning myself off. The clock next to me flashes the time and I realize it took me less than four minutes to come. I groan at my pathetic new record and thrust my head down on the pillow.
How the fuck am I going to be around this girl for three whole months?
12
Gabby
I open my eyes slowly, throwing a colorful string of curses at the light streaming through my open window. I turn my head to look at the clock on the nightstand. It’s ten past one in the afternoon, meaning I must have slept at least ten solid hours.
As I swing my legs over the bed, the events from last night all come racing back to me. I drop my head into my hands, recalling that disastrous conversation with Daphni.
I hop into the shower to wash away the previous night. I had been too tired to remove all the makeup last night, so when I step out of my steaming shower, I look like a drowned raccoon. I grab a towel and wipe away the mascara residue. My plan today is to lay low and find a quiet place to study while I wait for Daphni to cool down.
My plan seems perfect until I’m dressed and looking for my book bag and suddenly remember that I had left all my books and my bag in Daphni’s dressing room yesterday. Shit.
There is no way I can leave my books there. I need to get them. Just knowing they’re not nearby is enough to cause me anxiety. So much for my plan to avoid Daphni today.
I step into my high tops and slip my phone, room key, and credit card into my back pocket. If I run, I might be able to grab my things before Daphni’s sound check and escape before detection and any awkward conversations.
I make it five steps into the lobby before I catch sight of my sister’s bright-blue hair. Panicked, I scan the large, open space for a piece of furniture to hide behind, but it’s too late, and her eyes lock on mine. Like a target in a crosshair, I am unable to move and I just stand in wait as she walks over, her stiletto heels clicking on the marble floor. Behind her I can see Liam offering me a consoling smile.
As she closes the distance between us, she slides off her sunglasses, revealing puffy, bloodshot eyes. I take a small measure of comfort in guessing that Daphni is probably feeling a whole lot worse than I am right now.
/> As she reaches me, Daphni reaches for my hand and pulls me down to sit next to her on a nearby bench. Her hands are cold, and when I see her under the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the hotel lobby, I realize how tiny and shrunken she looks, like a sepia shadow of herself.
“Gabby, I want to apologize for last night. I was awful and so mean and heartless.” She looks down as her voice breaks, shaking her head. “I am so sorry I said those things about you.”
I'm confused when I hear the emotion and sincerity in her voice. She had been so callous just last night, making a mock toast to our dead mother. With Daphni, I always feel like I have whiplash. I can never seem to get close enough to actually decipher what is going on behind the scenes before she is already two steps away.
I pat her hand reassuringly. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
Daphni lets out a frustrated groan. “Don’t do that, Gabby. Not with me.”
“Do what?” I ask, taken aback by her frustration.
“You know. The whole ‘let’s pretend this never happened and stick fake smiles on our faces so the neighbors won’t know how crazy we really are.’ We are not Mom and Dad. God, Gabby, I am so sick of faking it all the time. Let’s just be honest—at least with each other!”
I nod in agreement and drop the smile. “Fine. If that’s what you want. You were a mega bitch last night and you looked like a total asshole.”
Daphni inhales sharply at my words before throwing her hands up. “You’re right. As usual, you’re right, Gabby. I suck. I’m sorry.” Cradling my hands in hers, she locks her large emerald eyes on mine and pouts her bright-pink lips. “Think you can forgive me?”
I can’t help but smile at how ridiculous she looks. As hard as I try, even I am not immune to my sister’s charms. I offer her a nod and she pulls me into a hug before releasing me, her face turning serious, and asking, “So what happened to mom?”
“She mixed up her ‘vitamins’.”
Daphni nods somberly, not needing any further explanation. “Funeral?”
“It’s, uh, today actually. In L.A., of course. Dad wanted to keep it small, to keep it from getting out too much. Lawrence told me they would be sending out a press release later today. They’re going with diabetic ketoacidosis and an accidental insulin overdose.”
“Got it.”
Daphni bites down on her lower lip and I catch a wave of sadness flash in my sister’s eyes. Instinctively, I reach out to grab her hand. “Daphni…”
Daphni pulls back her hand and exhales. Looking down, she presses nonexistent wrinkles out of her skirt. As she stands, she looks down at me. “Gabby, I’m good. Trust me. I’ve got to prep for tonight. Why don’t you come with? We’re all going to ride over.”
I want to wrap my arms around her thin frame, tell her it’s okay to not be okay. But who was I to even say that? Hadn’t I done the same with Liam just yesterday? It was if we had denial inscribed in our DNA. We both knew we were full of shit, we just didn’t have the ability to call out the other without outing ourselves as hypocrites.
So instead, I smile in return and stand to follow her to the town car waiting outside. And as I stand back and watch my sister wave to the paparazzi and pose with her fans, I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sadness at how successfully she has mastered the ability to put on her happy mask and wear it so deceivingly.
13
Gabby
I turn my head to watch the plane take off, savoring the view as the city gets smaller and smaller below us. We are headed on a quick flight back to my stomping grounds of Washington, D.C., where Daphni will be playing two more shows.
We’re using one of our family’s jets to travel for the tour, while the remaining crew are stuck bussing it. I almost considered joining the crew bus when I overheard Drizzle making a mile-high joke, but by then it was too late, so I made sure to be the first one to scramble aboard the plane and claim the two seats in the front row.
Now that we are up in the air, I take a quick second to glance behind me. As predicted, Daphni and Drizzle are in the back row recreating some animalistic mating ritual I am sure I have seen on some late-night Animal Planet special. Melissa is curled up in another seat, flipping through a pile of magazines. My greedy eyes continue to dart throughout the interior until they land on Liam. He’s seated in the middle of the jet, his long legs spilling out into the aisle. He is in a heated discussion with the other two security detail sitting across from him. I can’t hear them, but his hands are animated and his brow furrowed. I can see the other two men following his words with interest, nodding along.
I turn in my seat before anyone can catch my obvious staring. Deciding I need a distraction, I grab my bag and rummage through until I find the John Grisham novel I had packed. I had picked up The Firm, justifying it by telling myself that since it was technically a novel with a lawyer as the protagonist, it counted toward my study hours.
I thumb through the paperback, finding the page where I’d left off. My eyes skim over the page and I keep rereading the same lines, none of it sinking in. I already know how the novel ends, thanks to Wikipedia. I never pick up a book, or go to see a movie, without reading every possible spoiler first. I used to drive my family crazy by researching movie spoilers before committing to watch any movie. If there is one thing I hate most in the world, it’s surprises. For me, the best way to avoid surprises and be prepared is to simply know the ending before I even open the book.
After a few minutes of rereading the same word a hundred times over, I decide trying to continue is futile. With a frustrated groan, I slam the book closed and drop it down on the table in front of me.
“Must be a good book, then?” Liam’s rich brogue instantly pulls me out of my fog and I jump in my seat with surprise. How had I not noticed him?
He slides into the seat across from me, a playful smile on his face.
“Eh, sure,” I reply absently before pointedly turning my attention to the window at my side in a futile attempt to ignore both Liam and the visceral impact he is obviously having on me.
I weave my fingers together and crack my knuckles. It’s a horrible nervous habit I have and Daphni has convinced me I am going to end up with puffy fingers from my “bloated cartilage.” I hate how anxious I feel around Liam, and even though I keep my eyes glued to the window, I can feel his gaze on me.
“Tell me about the book.”
“What?” I ask, turning to face him. His eyes dart down to my discarded book and I feel my cheeks heat. “Oh, right. It’s about a young lawyer named Mitch. He gets recruited for this law firm in Memphis and then a bunch of the other lawyers at the firm start dying, so he hires this private investigator to look into it. Then he gets approached by the FBI and he finds out the firm is basically laundering money for the mob. In the end, he turns over all these documents to the FBI then runs off to Cayman Islands with ten million dollars.”
Liam shoots me a quizzical look. “You finished the book already? It looks like your bookmark is right in the beginning.”
“You know, you are creepily observant,” I respond, which draws a smile to his lips. “I’m actually only on the third chapter. I just don’t like not knowing how something is going to end, so I make sure that it has a satisfying ending before I waste my time reading it. I don’t want to be disappointed.”
Liam leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But what about the excitement of not knowing?” he asks, with a playful wink. “What about the danger?”
I roll my eyes in response. “Life is too short to take risks like that.”
Liam leans back in his chair, a serious expression overtaking his playful smile. “No, Gabby. Life is too short not to.”
14
Gabby
I groan at the sound of my obnoxious, chirping ringtone. I had gotten up at six in the morning to sneak in some extra study time, and had been struggling with one particular test question. And now my phone decided to chime in. Perfect timing.
Flip
ping it open, my grumpy mood instantly fades and a smile reaches my lips as I read a message from Lawrence.
Happy birthday, G. Enjoy the pancakes.
I reread the text again, puzzled. I look up around my hotel suite. A quick survey of the room confirms it is indeed pancake-less.
Just then, I hear a loud knock at the door. My heart races at the prospect of my beloved older brother surprising me on my birthday with pancakes. I scramble out of bed with excitement and rush to the door. I pull it open to find Melissa standing in the hall, wearing a party hat and a goofy smile. I do my best to disguise the disappointment of not seeing my brother on the other side of the door and give Melissa a warm smile.
She starts to sing “Happy Birthday,” and I bite back a chuckle at her off-key rendition. By the second verse, however, I can’t keep it in. “Melissa, I love you, but your tone deafness is going to make my ears bleed.”
Melissa playfully sticks out her tongue and pushes a cart overflowing with an assortment of flowers and a few covered trays into my hotel suite.
I close the door behind her and she lifts up a large, covered tray to reveal a sky-high pile of chocolate-chip pancakes. I can’t fight the huge smile overtaking my face when I see the elaborate display. As far back as I can remember, Lawrence had always cooked me a birthday breakfast. It was our special thing and he never forgot a year. For my last birthday, he had surprised me while I was studying abroad in a remote Swiss city. He had come prepared with ingredients and a tiny hotplate. After we ended up shorting out the electricity in my apartment, we dined on his watery, undercooked pancakes.
Piling up my plate, I grab the carafe of syrup and drop down onto the couch. I shove a few bites in my mouth before remembering Melissa and offering her a bite of my delicious treat.
