by Jade Webb
I stick out my tongue at her barb but change into her outfit choice. Impressed, I look at my reflection, finally somewhat confident that I don’t look totally hideous.
“Can you toss me my grey blazer, Mel?”
“Seriously, Gabby? You want to wear a blazer on your date? That top is gorgeous and the open lace back shows off your tan.”
I turn in the mirror and look back at her, incredulously. “You can see my bra.”
Melissa winks in response. “That’s the best part.” Looking down at her watch, she gives me a wide smile. “It’s show time, babe.” She stands up from the bed and walks over to me, pushing her fingers through my hair. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Mel.”
I grab my bag, and Melissa and I make our way to the elevator together.
Once inside, Melissa turns to face me. “If you need anything—seriously, anything—you call me. Whatever time. I’ll be there.”
Smiling appreciatively, I nod in thanks. As the elevator doors close, Melissa shouts out, “And if he hurts you, I’ll cut off his balls!”
I swing around to glare at her, but the doors close quickly and all I can hear is her laughter as I descend to the lobby.
I take a deep, shaky breath as I step out of the elevator. Though I don’t find Jordan right away, he’s easy to spot by the large, hulking bodyguard standing a few feet away.
As I walk toward him, he stands. He’s wearing dark denim jeans, a white T-shirt, and a baseball cap slung low over his forehead, plus his signature, dark-tinted aviator sunglasses.
“Wow, Gabby. You look amazing,” he says as I reach him, an appreciative smile on his face.
“And you look… surprisingly average,” I say as I nod approvingly.
“And now that I know you well enough, Gabby Monroe, I am going to take that as a compliment.”
Holding out his arm, I slide my hand through and let him guide me to the car waiting outside. Hopping in the back, Jordan slides in next to me as his bodyguard takes the passenger seat.
“Okay, so now can you tell me where we’re going?” I ask.
A wide grin spreads across his face and I catch a slight twinkle of excitement in his baby-blue eyes. “Just a normal date,” he responds cryptically.
I roll my eyes and decide that I’ll discover soon enough what a “normal date” for Jordan James is.
We spend the next fifteen minutes chatting about the tour, the conversation and the banter flowing more easily as I feel my nerves begin to settle.
The car pulls off in front of a large cinema and stops. I look at Jordan, out the window, and back at Jordan.
“We’re going to see a movie?”
Jordan nods and moves to open the door. Before he can, I grab his arm. “Jordan, we don’t have to do this. You’ll get mobbed. It’s not worth it.”
“Do you trust me, Gabby?”
Do I trust him? Why is that such a difficult question for me to answer? Because you don’t trust anyone, I remind myself. But that’s changing. Today. With Jordan. I offer him a smile and nod my head “yes.”
He grabs my hand and pushes open the car door. “Then follow me.”
We walk into the theatre, my hand still in his. I look around the lobby, surprised to see only staff around on a Thursday evening. Confused, I lean in and whisper to Jordan, “Where is everyone?”
Laughing he answers, “It’s just us, babe.”
I pull away, spinning around to confirm his answer. Sure enough, besides us and the six or seven staff standing around, the theatre is completely empty.
Taking my hand back, Jordan pulls me to face him. “I will never be able to just spontaneously go and watch a movie, Gabby. I can’t walk around the mall with you or pop into the grocery store for some milk and eggs. And I know that’s what you want. But, if you let me, I can show you what I can offer. It might not be your idea of normal, but it’s the best I can do.”
I look around again and then back at Jordan. He’s watching me intently, and I swear I see a moment of vulnerability in his eyes. Expelling a breath, I nod. “Well, it’s not Paris, so I guess it will do.”
A grin springs to his face as he pulls me to the display of all the movies. “Any movie. Your pick. My only condition is that it must be cheesy as hell.”
30
Liam
I check my watch for the tenth time that morning, annoyed to see only one minute has passed. A quick glance to my side confirms that Daphni is feeling equally annoyed. She’s tapping her heel against the floor impatiently. Both of our eyes are watching the elevator, waiting for Gabby to arrive.
We were all scheduled to meet in the lobby twenty minutes ago, and while tardiness is something I usually expect from Daphni, I didn’t expect it from someone as obviously type-A as Gabby. I mean, the woman literally has a color-coded study schedule that she made Melissa pass out to Daphni’s whole team to ensure that she would be uninterrupted while she studied for six hours a day.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to just run up?” Melissa asks cautiously. Daphni is in a terrible mood since fighting with Gabby yesterday, and we’re all on eggshells.
“No,” she replies brusquely. “She’s coming.”
With her words, we watch as the elevator doors open to reveal Gabby, with her black suitcase in tow.
I watch as Daphni rushes toward her sister, meeting her a few feet away in the middle of the lobby. They’re too far away for me to hear their conversation, but I can see Daphni waving her hands. She’s clearly upset, and Gabby remains calm as they talk, her lips drawn tight. She shakes her head firmly “no,” before walking away from her sister and towards a giant in a dark suit who I vaguely recognize as one of Jordan’s bodyguards. He takes her bag for her and she follows him outside.
Daphni marches back to us, fuming.
“Where is she going?” Melissa asks.
Daphni throws her hands up in the air. “She decided to ride to St. Paul with Jordan instead of coming with me. She says she needs a break from me. Can you believe that?”
I feel my jaw tick, but I wisely choose to remain silent. I can see Daphni is ready to lose it, and a quick glance at Melissa confirms she’s thinking the same thing. Looping her arm through Daphni’s, Melissa guides Daphni out of the lobby and outside to a waiting car. Thankfully there are no fans or cameras around, so we can easily pile into the waiting SUV.
Once the doors are closed, however, Daphni lets out a string of curses that rival any of the shit we used to spit out in the Corps.
“He’s just using her!” she shrieks, as our driver merges onto the highway, headed to the private airstrip where our plane is waiting.
Melissa coos sympathetically, brushing her hand down her hair, trying to calm Daphni down.
Daphni continues ranting, only calming when we finally board the jet and she gets a vodka—straight up—in her hand. She pops a large, white pill from her bag and within ten minutes, she is completely out, her long blue hair spilling over her open mouth.
I’m far too wound up and annoyed to follow suit, so instead I turn on the TV screen in front of my seat. I absently flip through the channels until they begin to blur together. I can feel my body is tight like a coil, and I’m not a hundred percent sure I understand why. I know I’m pissed she’s with him; I just don’t know why I’m so pissed that I want to punch my fist through this stupid TV.
I drop the remote and lean my seat back, focusing my energy on relaxing. We are headed to St. Paul for another show, then off to Salt Lake after that. More shows, club appearances, radio shout outs, promotional events, autograph signings… Fuck, Daphni even has paid appearances scheduled at frozen-yogurt shops. I’m running ragged following Daphni around, so I have no idea how the hell she gets her energy, besides the endless bottles of Diet Coke she carries with her everywhere. And with everything coming up, I need to dedicate my time and energy to my actual job. I can’t be thinking about Gabby every second. And it’s with that thought that I force my eyes closed
and drift to sleep.
“Dude, it’s your time off, take it.”
I shake my head and rub my jaw. I haven’t shaved in a few days, and my stubble is the visible proof. “Nah, mate. I’m good,” I insist.
“Liam, you’ve been working ten days straight. Take the day off to relax. I mean, you look like shit,” John responds, grimacing as he looks at me. We’re standing in the middle of the hotel lobby as we wait for Melissa to finish checking us all in. Daphni has already gone up to her room, and is getting ready for some party tonight, where she’ll be getting paid $120,000 to show up for three hours, take some pictures, and drink for free. It’s not a bad gig.
John continues to argue with me, insisting that he cover the security detail for tonight. He’s had lighter duty for the past week, usually driving. We usually switch off after a couple of days, but I’m a greedy bastard and I knew that if I were close to Daphni, I would have a better chance of seeing Gabby. So yeah, I put in the extra hours in hopes of having the opportunity to see a girl who absolutely detests my fucking guts. It was pathetic, but it was still worth a try.
“Whatever. I’ll be back tomorrow,” I insist, finally conceding. I feel exhausted. I grab my bag and my room key and head up to the room. A quick look in the bathroom mirror confirms John’s assessment: I do look like shit. I jump in the shower, hoping the hot water will peel away this old, tired shell I’ve been inhabiting and shake me out of the spell Gabby seems to have cast over me.
Out of the shower, I sling the towel around my hips and sulk around my room. I can’t concentrate knowing that Gabby is somewhere in this city with that little shit. I press my palms down on the ledge of the window and look out, wishing I could summon her to me. We have unfinished business, and seeing her with Jordan has suddenly inspired me to make sure I finish it. And soon.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a coffee shop and bookstore across the street. It’s a cozy-looking place with a brick storefront. It looks like the type of place where baristas with thick-framed glasses host open poetry nights. A place where someone could go to read for hours, tucked away in a corner.
A place where someone could study in peace.
31
Gabby
If Abigail and Nancy are two of three teachers assigned to teach algebra, which one of the following could be true of the assignment?
I read the question for the third time. Each time I read it, I swear I feel even more brain cells dying. Yet, I only have this one last question to answer until I finish this section and can reward myself with one of those delicious-looking cookies I had spotted when I ordered my chai latte.
I pop my pencil into the corner of my mouth and narrow my eyes at the question, hoping that if I focus enough, an answer will magically appear.
Inevitably, I do yet another sweep of the small coffee shop where I have been loitering for the last three hours. I was lucky to find such a cute and cozy place to study right across from the hotel. Jordan had to attend some meeting or whatnot and when I had decided to get in some more study hours, I was elated to find this funky coffee shop a short walk across the street.
Plush, overstuffed arm chairs- each covered in a different fabric- are dispersed into a bright pink room with small café tables and chairs squeezed into the empty spaces. Even so, the space doesn’t feel overwhelming or crowded. The walls are decorated with paintings from local artists in every genre imaginable, from bulldog watercolors to magazine collages. Light jazz music plays overhead and the muted conversations from the other patrons provide a relaxing soundtrack. I was more easily distracted when it was complete silence and found the buzz and humming energy around me invigorating. The playful chatter of the baristas and the smell of the coffee wafting from the small counter behind me reminds me that I am due for another cup soon.
Studying a painting on the wall near me of a quilled butterfly at least twenty feet tall, I replay the question in my head: If Abigail and Nancy are two of three teachers assigned to teach algebra, which one of the following could be true of the assignment?
A victorious smile tugs at my lips as I look back down at my book. B. The answer is B. A quick check into the back pages of my guide reveal that I solved it correctly. Thank you, butterfly.
“Is this seat taken?” A voice from above me asks, tempering the victory parade I was throwing for myself in my head.
I feel my entire body simultaneously freeze and kick into overdrive with a rush of excitement at the sound of Liam’s voice above me. Slowly, I let my eyes drag up to see him. Out of his usual uniform and dressed in dark denim jeans and a fitted, black T-shirt, I almost don't recognize him. His dark tattoos are on full display, and I greedily trail them from his forearms up to his large biceps until they disappear behind his sleeve.
It looks like he recently showered: his jet-black hair is still wet, thick, and slicked back, and his face is smooth from having just shaved. His steely grey eyes are looking down at me, obviously eager to see if I’ll move my bag and allow him the seat next to me on the overstuffed couch.
“Seriously, did you have a GPS installed in me while I was asleep?” I ask, grimacing internally when I realize how bitchy I sound, and annoyed at how I let Liam so easily get under my skin.
Chuckling, Liam moves my bag to the floor and sits down, ignoring my annoyance. “I saw the bookstore and I guessed you might be here. Remember, I spent six years during surveillance.” He shrugs his broad shoulders. “People are predictable.”
Scoffing, I offer him a mock salute. “Aye, aye soldier. Glad to know Daphni is spending her money well, having her henchman stalk her little sister.”
Liam shakes his head as he crosses his arms across his broad chest. "First of all," he says, holding up his hand. "Not a soldier. I'm a Marine. And secondly, Daphni didn't send me here to stalk you.”
Slamming my book closed, I turn to look at him. “Then why are you here, Liam?”
He quirks his brow, obviously surprised by my question. “I wanted to see you, I guess.”
“Well, here I am,” I say, waving my hand down my body. “Same old, boring, predictable Gabby.”
Liam scowls at my sarcastic response. “Why do you always push everyone so far away?”
“Excuse me?” I ask, caught off guard by his blunt question.
“You have your jokes and your sarcasm to hide behind. Or you just don’t say anything at all and put on some fake smile. You finally tell your sister how you feel, but instead of using it to get closer to her, you push her farther away, then you run away with that little Jordan shit to avoid explaining to her how she upset you. God, who hurt you so badly that you cannot have one simple, honest conversation with anyone?”
I let his words sink in. Each syllable feels like a kick to my gut. When he finishes, he stares at me, passionate steel-grey eyes locked on me. I want to break, to tell him that’s not who I am. I don’t run away from my problems. But he’s right. And that just infuriates me even more. So I don’t break. Instead, I throw my books into my bag and blink away the tears. I jump out of my seat before whipping back around to face him, still sitting on the couch.
“How dare you? I was honest with you. I put myself out there and you shut me down,” I tell him, my voice just above a whisper. I don’t let my voice crack, don’t let him hear how close I am to utterly falling apart. Instead, I rush out the door and onto the sidewalk. I take a deep gulp of air and close my eyes, willing myself to breathe again.
The ding of the bell attached to the store’s door goes off and I see Liam. I open my mouth to tell him to leave when he takes two steps to close the distance between us and pulls me to him. Within seconds, his mouth is on mine as he possesses me wholly with his kiss. It’s a passionate assault as his mouth claims mine. My mind screams at my body to resist, but it’s pointless. I melt into him, open my mouth, and allow him to kiss me deeper, own me even more. I tug at his shirt and pull him closer, longing to feel his hard angles against me. After what feels like forever in the span of a single m
inute, we break apart and Liam drops his forehead to rest against mine, each of us sucking in the other’s breath.
I pull back to look at Liam. His grey eyes appear to have changed color; they are darker, more feral, as they watch me in return.
“What do you want from me, Liam?” I ask, my breath ragged.
Raking his fingers through his thick, black hair, he looks at me, his eyes wide with surprise. “Can’t you see, Gabby? I want you.”
I take a deep, steadying breath in a pathetic attempt to calm my racing heart. I want him, too. I know in my bones that I want him. Could I do it? Could I let myself fall?
As I take another deep breath, I see a flash of bright blue out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head to see Daphni, across the street, watching us. I look at Liam, then back at Daphni. She had been watching us. Had she sent Liam here to distract me? To get me away from Jordan? Would she do that to me?
I let out a bitter chuckle as I realize that, of course, that is entirely something my sister would do. Liam watches me as my mood suddenly changes. Confused, he looks across the street and, seeing Daphni, realizes I’ve seen through their little scheme. He takes a step toward me.
“Gabby, this isn’t—”
Before he can finish, I take a bold step toward him, my palm connecting with his cheek as I slap him. In truth, the slap likely hurt my hand more than it hurt him, but it felt cathartic to thrust all my anger into my hand and see the look of surprise on his face.
“You are the worst kind of coward, Liam. Do you do everything Daphni tells you to do? Oh my God, how can you play with someone like that, Liam? How could you do that to me?”
I refuse to let him see a single teardrop fall, so I do what I do best, and what Liam had so aptly called me out on just five minutes ago: I run.
32
