Regretting Gabriel

by Brooks, Anna

  “It’s not my space. It’s Gianna’s. Look, it’s late, and I’m wiped. I’m just gonna chill and watch a movie or something anyway. No sense in you running out when that’s exactly what you were doing before I got here.” He’s been heading toward me the entire time he’s been speaking, so he’s right in front of me now. He holds his hand out. “Can I have my phone?” I tilt my head back, my lips parting at how close he is, and I hear a low rumble come from his throat.

  I look at his cell on the table, then raise my eyes up to capture his. Instead of him lifting the phone off the table himself, I reach over and grab it.

  When I hand it back, I do it with just the tips of my fingers, but his long ones graze my skin again, and I can’t hide the gasp. “Yeah,” he mumbles, but I don’t think he’s talking to me, so I don’t respond. Not that I could. There’s a tic in his jaw when he tucks his phone away. “You done with your ice cream?” He licks his lips before he concludes, “It’s melting.”

  “Yeah, you’re hot.” Oh, my god.

  He smirks knowingly.

  “I mean, it’s hot in here. The heating pad and stuff. It’s warm, so the ice cream melted fast.”

  He contemplates me for a brief second before he reaches past me to grab it, and his leathery spice assaults my senses. I know I’ll remember that smell for the rest of my life. Just as I know I’ll remember the way his face softens when he smiles until the day I die.

  “Stay on the couch,” he orders, and for some reason, I comply as though I’m a dog. But when the love of your life tells you to do something, you do it.

  Gia has an awesome couch. Both ends recline and lean back. Before Gabriel got here, I was lying on the length of the couch because I could see the TV better from my side that way. No way in hell am I going to do that again, so I pull the lever on my side and push the recliner partly back so my body lies flatter. It’s not as comfortable, but it’ll do until I bide my time, and I can leave.

  Gabriel returns from putting the ice cream in the freezer, kicks off his shoes, tosses his kick-ass leather jacket on top of his duffel bag, then plops down on the couch. “What are you watching?”

  I glance at the TV when the two main characters finally kiss and am mortified. Yeah, it’s totally PG, but that’s not something I wanted on the screen with him right next to me. I should have been paying attention to that instead of watching him.

  “Uh, just a Christmas movie. You can change it.” Then I throw the remote at him. Throw it. Not toss gently or even give a heads-up. He doesn’t see it coming, so when it hits him in the crotch, he winces. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.” I apologize in complete mortification as I cringe at the pain on his face.

  With straight lips, he picks up the controller and points it at the TV. “It’s okay. Wasn’t planning on using my dick tonight anyway.”

  Oh, God. Mortification causes my neck and face to become impossibly hot, and once again I wish I had my hair down so I could hide the flush from him. I know I’m not as pretty as the girls he’s used to, but he doesn’t need to say it. I already know he’s better than me, and somebody like him would never go for somebody like me. But hearing him actually say it out loud is like a part of me just died. I have very few things to look forward to in life, but the fantasy that I’d end up with him was one of them.

  I think every girl has that famous guy who she crushed on when she was younger and dreamed about living happily ever after with. And when they get old enough to realize that life is not a movie, and the movie star isn’t going to magically come to your school and sweep you off your feet, it feels a lot like death.

  And up until right now, I still had the unrealistic dream, but he just took it away.

  Crushed my fantasy into dust.

  Obliterated any hope I had, no matter how silly.

  “Shit. I didn’t mean it that way, babe. Not that I wouldn’t want to fuck you… you’re pretty. Just that… ya know?”

  No. I have no clue. And it makes it worse that he has to give me a false compliment. “I really should just go.”

  “You’re staying,” he commands, and I bite the inside of my cheek.

  I sit completely still as he flips through the channels, and when Peach jumps in my lap, I hide the squeal of pain but enjoy her warmth on my belly. And I welcome her distraction. I stroke her under her chin until she rests her head and closes her eyes.

  “This okay?” Gabe’s voice startles me, and my body gives an involuntarily jolt.

  I glance at the screen to see another Christmas movie, but one that’s classic and funny. “Yeah.”

  He yanks the lever to recline his seat. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he rests one arm behind his head and settles into the cushions. He turns his neck and catches me staring. Amusement flickers in his eyes, and I jerk my head straight.

  “This is my favorite Christmas movie.”

  I won’t let myself look at him for fear I’ll never be able to look away. “Yeah, it’s a good one.”

  “Not your favorite?”

  “No.”

  “What’s your favorite?”

  I don’t even have to think about the answer. “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

  “I’ve never seen it.”

  No longer able to avoid him, I turned my head with parted lips and wide eyes. “You what?”

  “I’ve never seen it,” he repeats.

  “That’s… that’s wrong.”

  He raises a brow. “It is?”

  “Yes. It’s like, a crime or something.”

  With a slow, sexy quirk of his lips, he smirks, and it’s at this moment that I went from having a crush that felt a lot like love to falling madly in love with Gabriel Hunter. Because never in a million years did I imagine that I would make him smile, and never ever did I think it would make my weighted down heart soar.

  “Not sure about that.”

  I swallow the nerves and answer. “Maybe not, but everyone should see that movie at least once in their life.”

  For a moment, he studies me intently. “What’s your name?”

  “Cady. With a C.” I nibble on my lip. “And a dy.”

  “Cady.” He tests the word on his tongue, and I taste it all the way across the couch. “Cady with a C. And a dy. I like it.” He raises his brows. “Do you want to know my name?”

  “You’re Gabriel Hunter.” He inclines his head, and I recover quickly when I explain. “Gia said your name… uh, and her last name is Hunter, so I just assumed.” But it’s a total lie.

  His unfocused gaze turns skeptical, but still, he mutters, “Right.” It’s as if he can see through me, and that reminds me I’m wearing booty shorts. I swallow nervously as I reach for a blanket from the back of the couch, then toss it over my legs. He stares at the fluffy throw, then shoots me a look that makes me question whether my panties would be burned off or not when I removed the blanket. It’s so dark, so hot, but so confusing. I decide to ignore it and cuddle into a pillow, pretending he’s not here. Even though he’s been on my mind every day for over ten years.

  Gabriel

  It’s near impossible to sit here and pretend to not look at her out of the corner of my eye anymore. Plus, I need to get up to adjust my stiffening dick, and I can’t very well do that when she’s so close. It’s not like me to give a shit what a chick thinks of me, but for some reason, I don’t want Cady, with a C and a dy, to think I’m a fuckin’ perv who gets hard-ons from just sitting next to a woman, because I don’t. This shit has only happened with her.

  Normally, I need my cock to get a little bit of personal attention before he’s ready for action, but with her, he’s ready to go to battle with just a look.

  “You want anything?” I ask before I push up from the couch. We finished one Christmas movie, and another one started right away, which I was thankful for since I wanted her to stay. I don’t want her to leave, and I tell myself it’s because I’m afraid she’s too sick to be on her own. But that’s a damn lie, and I know it. It might make me a dick, b
ut normally, I couldn’t care less about some chick I don’t know who feels like shit. In any other circumstance, I’d have held the door open for her to walk out of, and that would have been that.

  And at first, that’s what I was about to do, but when she practically fainted and she looked up at me through pained, dazed eyes, I saw something almost… familiar. Comfortable. Defenseless. I needed to make sure she was okay. I had to ensure her safety and felt this need to wrap her up and just hold her.

  She’s got a bottle of cramp pills and ibuprofen on the coffee table and a heating pad on her stomach, which tells me she’s not sick, she’s just on her rag. Which is good, because, honest to Christ, if she wasn’t, I’d probably have sunk my cock into her three times by now.

  She’s that fucking beautiful. That goddamned hot.

  But through all her outer beauty, I’m drawn to her somehow. There’s something more, something beyond what’s on the outside and what she’s showing me. I don’t want her to leave because I straight up want to be with her so I can find out what it is. And I’ve never had that desire before. It scares the shit out of me but also gives me this strange sense of purpose.

  Cady lifts her green eyes to me with a glint of curiosity, and just like the first time, I feel her innocent wonder everywhere, especially in my pants. “No, thanks.”

  I’m not even thirsty, but I need a damn beer. What I am, is hungry for some shy, sweet, girl-next-door pussy. But I know she isn’t that kind of girl. She’s gonna make me work for it. And I’ll love every minute of it. She gives her attention back to the movie and is quietly laughing when I yank open Gianna’s fridge door. “Dammit.” No beer.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “She doesn’t have any beer.”

  “Gia doesn’t drink beer.”

  My head follows my neck as it aims over my shoulder to find her with raised brows. She used to. “How do you know that?”

  “Um, because we hang out sometimes. She only drinks wine. And occasionally a margarita but that’s strictly when she’s eating Mexican.”

  “I ain’t drinkin’ fuckin’ wine.”

  “I, on the other hand, only drink beer.” She states it proudly as though she’d just won a Grammy.

  That makes me chuckle. “My kinda girl.”

  And when her eyes widen, I flat-out laugh. I like that she’s into me but trying to hide it. It’s refreshing. Normally, women throw themselves at me, literally. There’s no challenge in getting laid anymore… there really hasn’t been for my entire life, if I’m being honest, so I like this shit with her.

  Cat and mouse.

  Hunter and hunted.

  Predator and prey.

  I never was one to play games, but with her, I’ll break the rules, I’ll follow ’em, hell, I’ll even cheat if winning means she’s waiting for me at the finish line.

  She starts to sit up. “I’ll go get you one.”

  Fuck, she’s sweet. Like candy. Frosting. Honey. “No, sugar. It’s okay.”

  She stutters but clears her throat. “No. Really, it’s fine. I’m just next door.”

  I suddenly don’t mind anymore and stop protesting because the blanket falls from her body, and I’m reminded that her long, lean legs are practically bare. And the socks that come up to her knees? Despite the fact that they have books on them, they’re hot as hell.

  She grabs her keys, and I follow her, making sure to stay far enough behind her so that I can check out her round ass that sits perfectly below her hourglass-shaped hips.

  Cady has one of her arms across her stomach and is opening her door with the other. I don’t think she thought I was still behind her because when my hand falls on top of hers on the knob, she flinches. I almost do too.

  “Sorry.” But I’m not. I was dying to touch her in any way I could, and I took my shot. It’s not nearly the place I want my hands to be, but it’s better than nothing. And with my skin barely grazing hers, it makes the base of my spine throb with pins and needles.

  Her body, already stiff with whatever kind of pain she’s in, gets tighter. “It’s okay.”

  Together, we turn the knob, and I love how she feels being this close so much that it’s nearly impossible to step back as I push the door open. She walks through, and I glance around her apartment. It’s identical to Gianna’s floor plan except mirrored.

  Open concept from the kitchen to the living room with nothing but a small island between except a corded phone and an answering machine with 99 flashing shoved in the corner. She probably hasn’t checked that thing in forever. To the left of the living room is a hall that leads to a half bath on the right side and the bedroom to the left, which I assumed has the same attached bathroom with a shower and tub like my sister’s did.

  Aside from noticing the similarities, it’s the differences that pop out at me. Every light is on, and there are practically no decorations or any life in the place. It’s almost as if she just moved in. “When did you say you moved in?”

  “I didn’t.” She closes the fridge and holds up a six-pack of Spotted Cow. “But I’ve been here about three years.”

  “What do you do?” It’s not cheap to live here. And I know exactly how much it costs because I pay for my sister to have a safe place to call home. One of the first things I did when we signed our record deal was pay off my parents’ mortgage, but that was strictly for my mom, and then I paid my sister’s rent, which I have been doing ever since. She fought me on it at first but finally gave up.

  So that means I know that most of the people in the building are making at least six figures to be able to afford it since the location is so close to downtown and the lake.

  She doesn’t answer, and it strikes me as odd, but when she turns and struts toward me, I forget my name, let alone what I just asked her.

  I don’t move from where I initially stepped inside, so I simply swivel and pull the door open for her to amble out, purposely not leaving her a lot of room. “You wanna shut the lights off?”

  “No!” she yells and then drops her head. What was that? Her shoulders move as she takes a breath. “I mean, no. I, uh… I just don’t.”

  “Okay…” I wait in the hall as she locks the door, but notice she’s just standing here. I take the beer from her, thinking she needs the use of both hands, but the one that was holding the beer only goes back to her stomach.

  “Ya know, since I’m here and all, I should just stay.”

  Panic assaults me, and I put my hand on her hip and feel that same goddamned spark that I did when I handed her my phone earlier. “You should come back with me.”

  “Why?”

  Instead of giving her an answer, I turn the key for her, yank it out, then grab her hand and tug her down the hallway. And in the time it takes for us to get back in Gianna’s apartment, I have to fight getting hard. Or harder. I’ve fought it since I first saw Cady, but it’s getting worse. Luckily, she goes right back to the couch. With my back to her, I put the bottles in the fridge, and by the time I turn around, I’m almost good. “You sure you don’t want one?”

  “Yeah.” She lifts her Gatorade bottle and then cuddles back up on the couch.

  I sit at my end and figure if I keep talking, I’ll just keep finding out more and more I like about her. And the more I do that, the harder it’ll be for me to keep my hands off her, so I kick my feet up on the recliner and kind of watch the movie, but mostly watch her.

  I wake up with a cramp in my neck and blink the bright light away. The clock on the microwave reads 3:05, and I look over at Cady to find her curled in a ball in the corner of the couch, fast asleep.

  She looks about as uncomfortable as I feel, but I don’t know what to do. It’s not often… ever, that I have a woman asleep next to me who I don’t fuck.

  If there is some kind of protocol for dealing with your sister’s hot friend who’s sick and asleep on her couch, I don’t know it, and frankly, I don’t want to. The last time I dated one of my sister’s friends was our senior year of high schoo
l, and it didn’t end well. That was actually the last time I dated anyone.

  Autumn wanted more, and I didn’t. At the time, it was because I was young. I knew the band was going to be going on the road, and there was no way I was going to try to continue a relationship with a high school girlfriend. Not just because of how tough long-distance relationships are, but because there was no way I was handing over my dick on a chain. Liam did it, but he’s the only man I ever met who was actually successful with it. And the reason he was able to is because his now wife, Meara, is a badass chick who could handle it. Most women can’t.

  So when I broke up with Autumn, she took her anger out for me on my sister. And not only her, but she turned a bunch of their little chick posse against Gianna, and it ruined the last half of her senior year. I felt like shit, and I tried to make it better, but nothing I did helped.

  Autumn is a bitch. The definition of a mean girl, which, looking back, a lot of Gianna’s friends were, so it’s actually a good thing she cut ties with them before they graduated.

  I’m happy to see my sister traded up in the friend department because Cady? She’s precious. She’s timid and really pretty… really, really pretty, even with as sick as she feels. When she gets back to her normal self, she’ll be gorgeous beyond anything I’ve ever seen.

  I admit it’s nice that she doesn’t know what I do for a living. Very nice, actually, because I don’t have to be anybody other than me. It’s more than just about the whole rock star thing, too. It’s my reputation as a man-whore or the guy with a temper. She doesn’t look at me like she’s waiting for me to fly off the handle. I’m simply me. And I can’t remember the last time I was free to be just that.

  She doesn’t treat me as anybody else, which is something I realized I fuckin’ loved when Cady and I were cracking up together as Clark Griswold flew through a Walmart parking lot on a greased-up saucer.

  Her laughter continues to ring through my ears, and even as I doze off, I can still hear the beautiful sound.