by Laura Brown
It wasn’t his fault she wanted more.
His hand on her cheek came to mind, that look in his eyes her gut claimed meant he cared, and Gaby didn’t know what to do about it. Levi was fit, attractive, kind, and sincere. He couldn’t want someone like her.
Tom hadn’t.
Not that Tom was exactly kind and sincere, at least not to her. But he was fit and attractive, and that being her type hadn’t worked out well for her in the past. Why would Levi be any different?
She hadn’t meant to get in too deep, not with what was supposed to be a fake date, and yet a piece of her heart had chipped off. The fact he’d gotten under her skin so quickly set off all her warning bells and reminded her that the real reason she was mad at him was that when her anger left, she’d have to deal with a broken heart.
Foolish thoughts, but Levi’s touch, the way he cared, had filled a hole deep inside. He soothed the hurts of Tom, the loneliness left behind from her father. And it didn’t make a lick of sense. She hadn’t known him a week; they couldn’t communicate. Didn’t she want a partner she could speak to? Someone she didn’t need to learn a whole new language for?
Although she enjoyed learning those signs, proving herself to him. Another reason she needed to stick to the plan—this approval-seeking thing would only spiral into daddy issues, not a solid relationship.
She rested her head against the seat, staring off into the cloudy sky. In a few hours, she’d drop Levi off at his home and return to her apartment alone. Then she’d take her mother’s reminder that life was short and do her best to be good to herself. Whether that meant dating someone or being single, it didn’t matter. Life didn’t go as planned, and she’d do well to remember that.
She’d also do well to grab this pit stop rather than prolonging their trip any further later on. She sent Levi a quick text, then realized his phone was in the suction holder. And the keys were still in the ignition. Crap. She had to either wait for him or risk having him be stuck at the car while she peed, and she wasn’t going to pee very well feeling rushed and anxious.
Gaby opened the glove compartment, wondering why it was called a glove compartment when she never knew anyone to keep gloves in there, and rummaged through until she found a piece a paper. A warning for speeding from four years ago wasn’t the best, but it would do, then she scribbled a quick note, placed it on the dashboard, and grabbed the keys.
The food court had a line of people waiting to order, and she paused, torn. He’d be standing in that line. As much as she needed a few minutes to breathe outside of his presence, she really needed to pull up her big girl panties and go over to him. Then she could pee in peace, knowing he’d wait for her.
She scanned the line, finding those wavy brown locks like she always picked him out of crowds. The familiarity was because of the gym; that was it, nothing more. People groaned when she moved toward him, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t there to cut the line.
He turned before she could tap his shoulder, and for a heartbeat, they stood there, eyes locked, as though her being there was some big gesture. She raised a hand, ignored how it shook, and signed, “Bathroom.” On his nod, she did an abrupt army turn and headed toward the restrooms, planning on taking her sweet time to collect herself.
Deep breaths, Gaby. You survived your father’s death, and Tom, and that mystery virus during senior finals—you can survive this trip. The ladies’ room lay in her sights, and bonus, no obvious line out of the door, but a hand encircled her arm and tugged. Panic gripped her when she found herself pulled inside the family bathroom, door closed, lock clicked into place. She looked up into Levi’s eyes, wondering what the hell he was doing. Then his mouth crashed into hers and she couldn’t think, didn’t want to, not when he held her close to him.
Her broken pieces fused back together, and she didn’t dare contemplate what it all meant.
She fisted his hair, holding his face down to hers, opening to him. He rocked into her, his hard length against her stomach, and her legs turned to jelly. The only thing clear about what happened between them was this irresistible chemistry. He might not want to continue seeing her, but he wanted her, she felt the proof.
Then he pulled back, and his eyes held her captive. She knew, down to her toes, that he had true feelings for her. It didn’t make sense, didn’t line up with his lies and Monica, and the last thing she wanted was to be drawn into someone else’s drama. She collected her phone.
Trying to one-up Charlie?
He read, and those tempting eyes creased with humor. He took her phone.
No, I’ll leave. I just needed this moment.
He slipped out of the bathroom, leaving her alone to do her business. She moved as quickly as possible, not wanting to tie up the family bathroom for her lonesome self. His taste lingered on her tongue. Her body yearned for more of his touch and feel—though, decidedly not in a bathroom. They had barely had a taste of each other, and there was so much left to do, so much left to explore, and it killed her a bit to know she may never have that. Not even a little extra taste as she went to the sink and washed her hands. Somehow this stolen kiss felt like a final moment in their entanglement. Soon they’d go back to who they’d been: strangers.
Outside he waited, back to the door, and the fact he’d stood there did another funny thing to her insides. Until she remembered she had the car keys, and he couldn’t have left if he wanted to, not that his continued presence at the door meant he knew it.
She placed her clean hands on his shoulder, and he caught her eyes. Something lay in those blue depths, something filled with emotion that she hadn’t the first clue what to do about. They seemed to be taking the same step forward and back, with no clue how to move onward and no desire to head in reverse.
They slipped past the restroom area, and she determinedly did not make eye contact with the older woman leering at them across the way. Levi pointed to the coffee shop, and at this point, Gaby figured, why not, get something sweet to swallow her emotions, even if the drink she had in mind would most definitely break Passover.
At this point, she didn’t care. She planned to drown herself in yeast the moment she got home.
…
Levi shifted in his seat, still turned on from the kiss even if the time and place were far less than ideal. He hadn’t intended for that to happen in the bathroom—and what was it with them and bathrooms? Heck, what was it with her family and bathrooms?—he’d wanted a moment with Gaby to share or connect—something other than the icy fucking silence of the ride. But one look at her, and all he could think of was showing her how he felt.
It hadn’t been about the release or the pleasure; it was about connecting. Something he’d be willing to bet his salary hadn’t been on her ex’s agenda. If she gave Levi the opportunity, he’d worship her every chance he got.
He’d have to find some way to get through her walls, to see if she’d give him that chance. A prospect he feared might never happen. She’d shut him down faster than he would have thought possible, and somehow, he ended up hanging over the edge, ready to jump, only to find out he was alone.
Gaby buried her head in her phone again, with only occasional breaks to sip her coffee. Levi shifted again, tempted to pull them over to the side of the road and finish what they started, but that would turn him into that guy who only wanted sex.
He wanted more than that.
He should be looking for a rebound after Monica, a light and fun good time. Somehow, he’d found himself in deeper than ever before, proving everything he previously thought about relationships to be a lie.
Scary shit. Scarier the prospect of never getting a chance.
The miles passed as he tried to come up with a surefire way to keep Gaby in his life, but he kept hitting the wall of not knowing her well enough, and not being clear on her ambitions. So he switched to what he knew he could do: focusing on that switch of hers, figur
ing out what would make her life better.
Him. He wanted to be the answer to that. But even if she kept him around, he shouldn’t be the answer. That had to be something for herself, some internal issue she could work through or tweak. His emotions blurred all his lines, making this one a challenge.
Gaby looked up, studying the road, no longer buried in her phone, and he took the opportunity to break the icy void between them. “You O.K.?”
She held up a thumb, even though she had more language than that. Point taken, especially with her fake smile, the same one he’d seen her use with her family, tainting her lips. It didn’t reach her eyes or accentuate her cheeks like her genuine smiles did.
A part of him would never be the same after this. At least, that’s what his current dramatic self insisted. Less than a week and this woman had made a mark on him.
Too bad he hadn’t done the same for her.
Chapter Twenty
Two hours later, Levi watched Gaby drive away, kicking himself for not inviting her in. Not that she would have accepted. Her scowling face as she drove off was enough of a ballbuster; he didn’t need to seek out more shit. He dropped his bag in his foyer and moved into the living room where he collapsed onto the couch, fisting his hair. What a fucking mess. He reached for his phone and forced himself past her thread to Meyer’s.
Levi: Back home. Take my advice and never, ever, pose as someone’s fake date.
Meyer: Wait, I thought you said you liked her?
Levi: I do.
More than he ever thought possible.
Meyer: So, what happened? The sister out you?
Levi: I think so. Didn’t matter. She caught a text from Monica. Major explosion. Duck and run for cover.
Meyer: LOL. Better you than me.
Yeah, only, the thought of Gaby with Meyer instead of him made Levi want to strangle the phone. He rubbed his aching chest, unsure how he got in so deep so quickly, but there it was, a gaping hole in his heart.
Meyer: Did you at least get Monica off your back?
Levi: Not yet, still have to help her out with her parents.
A thing he needed to tackle headfirst and get it over with. He’d started to switch threads when Meyer sent a response.
Meyer: Are you fucking kidding me?
Meyer: No. Absolutely not. You do that, and the next thing you know, you’ll be married with 2.5 kids, a dog, and a picket fence.
Meyer: Abort mission, ABORT!
Levi rolled his eyes.
Levi: Monica doesn’t want me like that. She just wants the funding for her business.
Meyer: You so sure about that? Don’t make me say I told you so when you’re knee-deep in dirty diapers.
Levi: I’m sure.
Meyer: Shame the fake date couldn’t get you out of that one. Entire weekend and nothing to show for your efforts.
Levi gripped the phone tight.
Levi: You finished being an asshole?
He tried to go back to Monica’s thread when Meyer interrupted again. Or perhaps he let the interruption come.
Meyer: Touchy, what’s got your panties in a twist?
Levi: I hurt her.
Meyer: Monica?
Levi: Gaby.
Meyer: You mean you really like her? A hearie?
Levi: She’s picking up signs quickly.
Or was before she shut him out.
Meyer: Wow. OK. Come over. Passover Seder 2.0 is poker. We’ve got beer.
Levi: Shouldn’t you be at the actual Deaf Seder?
Meyer: Poker. Besides, you know I hate crowds.
Truth. He got up, ready to grab his keys and head over. But he had one more thing he had to do first. He switched threads to Monica’s.
Levi: What do you need to get your parents off your back?
…
Fifteen minutes later, Levi picked up his cards, barely seeing what he had. Around the table, his friends chatted. He wanted to enjoy being off the spotlight, off his entire life, but the situation with Gaby had burrowed deep in his bones, and he hadn’t a clue how to shake it.
The table banged. He glanced up at Meyer, whose long hair was pulled into a weird tail/bun thing that even Meyer didn’t understand—he just needed it off his face. He slid a beer across the table. “You look like you need more than one of these.”
“The fiancée busting your balls?” Becker asked.
Meyer shook his head. “No fiancée, not anymore. She’s just leading him on until she gets that damn loan.”
“Sucks to be you.”
Levi flipped them off and figured, what the hell, and popped the lid, before taking a long swallow. “This kosher for Passover?”
Meyer raised a single eyebrow. “Do I look like I give a shit about following Passover?”
Becker waved his hands around the room. “No matzah here. No matzah at home, either. Hate that crap.”
Point taken. Levi usually tried to be better, but sometimes life called for selective following. He took another gulp.
“Wait a minute,” Alana signed, flipping her short hair to expose the shaved section. “You normally keep kosher with me.”
He shook his head and took another gulp. “Long weekend.”
“It’s Saturday.”
Meyer banged the table. “I thought we were playing?”
“Sorry.” Levi put his beer down and returned his attention to the poker game, namely his piss-poor hand. He took in the ante and the eager faces around him and then folded.
“We waited five minutes for you to fold?” Becker said.
“Wimp,” signed Alana.
Levi shook his head and checked his phone.
Monica: How about you get your ass up here, smile sweetly for the parents, I get my loan, and then you can be an ass, and I’ll dramatically give you back your ring.
Gulps weren’t cutting it, so he chugged half his beer.
Levi: I’m not in a good mood. Smiling nicely will be problematic.
Monica: I don’t care. Every minute you’re not here and I am, my loan slips further away.
Monica: Sorry, I’m bitchy because my worth is constantly determined by other factors: my hearing, my gender, blah, blah, blah. Throw me a bone, and I’ll get us both out of the doomed engagement. Please?
Finally, the light at the end of the tunnel had grown visible.
Levi: Doting ex will be there tomorrow.
Monica: Not ex yet, not to them. Play your cards right, and next week you will be.
If so, then Passover miracles still occurred.
The table rammed into his elbow, and he looked up.
Meyer pointed to his phone. “Who’s that? The fake date?”
“Ohhhh, he’s got a fake date? Tell me more.” Alana put her chin in her hands.
Meyer flexed his hands. “Hearing woman needed a fake date for Passover.”
“Love it!”
“But I thought it ended badly. She talking to you now?” Meyer asked.
Becker held up the sign for communicate and then let one hand fall to the table and bounce.
Levi brushed him off. “She’s learning a little ASL. And we communicated fine. But she’s not texting me.”
“He looks like a sad puppy who lost its owner.” Becker accentuated the sad and lost, complete with droopy ears.
Meyer waved for attention. “I was going to ask how you communicated with this hearing woman, but looking at you—you fucked her, didn’t you?”
Levi fisted his hands. “Not fucked, not that word.”
“Whoa,” Alana signed. “That’s new.”
Meyer put his beer down and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Right. So let me get this straight. You’ve got your panties in a twist because you had a fight of some sort with a woman. That’s not you. Not even with someone you
had planned to marry.”
Levi rubbed his aching neck. “What’s your point?”
Becker signed a leash stuck around his neck, followed by a panting dog.
“That,” Meyer signed, referencing Becker’s description. “My point is this is new, and you should do something about it.”
Yeah, but what? “Doesn’t matter, she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Did you lose your balls?” Alana began. “What are you going to do about it?”
Levi shook his head, wishing he hadn’t folded and could pick up his cards. Would have been worth the money lost at this point. He fiddled with the tab on his beer, then brought it to his lips and chugged down the rest, yeasty residue and all. He didn’t sign a word because he had no clue what to say, no idea which way his swimming emotions wanted to go.
“You figure her out yet?” Alana’s hands held a tease, but she’d have his back if he needed it.
He shook his head.
Meyer’s grin shot up. “That’s the real problem. Figure her out, then see where you can go with it.”
Levi shook his head, but deep down, he knew Meyer was right. Before he could do anything about his wayward emotions, he had to live up to his internal promise of helping Gaby. Then he could figure out where he fit into the equation. If he fit in at all.
…
“I’m breaking Passover, you in?” Gaby held the phone to her ear with her shoulder, dumping her dirty clothes into her laundry hamper, waiting for Riley to respond.
“What happened? And is it enough to break Passover before the second sunset?”
Gaby looked out the window and squinted. “The sun’s beginning its descent.”
“Whoa, you are serious. What are we breaking it with?”
Gaby tossed her toiletry bag into the bathroom. “Don’t know. Don’t care, as long as it has yeast.”
She disconnected the call, threw her overnight bag into the closet, and collapsed face-first onto her bed. Tears welled and threatened to fall, but she wouldn’t cry, not over a fake date. Fake dates didn’t deserve tears. She hadn’t even cried over Tom.
