Regretting Gabriel

by Brooks, Anna

  “Gabriel.”

  “Sorry.” I clear my throat. “After you eat, we’re gonna play power hour.”

  Her lips part on a smile. “What is that?”

  “We have to take a shot of beer every minute for an hour.”

  She puts a hand on her hip. “That doesn’t seem like a lot.”

  “It is. Trust me.”

  “Okay, whatever.”

  She smashes the shot glass down and sways a little bit. “Boom.” Making a drop the mic gesture, she gives me a sassy lip pucker and raised eyebrow. “Not even drunk.”

  I chuckle and take my last shot, too. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

  “What? I’m not.”

  “Bet if I asked you to walk in a straight line, you couldn’t do it.”

  She shoots to her feet and puts her hands on her hips. One thing that I’ve learned about my quiet Cady is she’s competitive as fuck. I never would have thought it, but as soon as I challenged her to that stupid drinking game, she turned into a damn vulture.

  “I can walk in a straight line backward.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  I push myself up from the couch as well and stand between her kitchen and the living room, where there’s the perfect place for her to walk a line. “Do it.”

  She stops several feet away and turns her back to me. “Watch me, Gabriel. And be ready to rub my feet when I’m done.”

  “What?” I laugh at her drunken declaration.

  She spins around so she’s facing me. “If I can do it, you owe me a foot rub.”

  If only she knew that any way I can get my hands on her is winning in my book. “And when you can’t walk a straight line?”

  “It’s not gonna happen, so it’s a moot point…” She waves me off and twirls her hand in the air and then turns back around, and to my fuckin’ surprise, she walks backward perfectly straight.

  “Damn.”

  “Trust fall!” I see her falling backward before I hear the words, and it takes but a split second for me to react. Unfortunately, I’m feelin’ the effects of power hour, and instead of just preventing her from cracking her skull open on the floor, I end up collapsing with her on top of me.

  “Jesus. Are you okay?”

  Her body starts to vibrate, and I brush the hair off her face to find her laughing. “You… you…” She shakes her head and covers her mouth.

  “Me what?” I start to snicker right along with her.

  “You’re right… I’m drunk.”

  I grin down at her and wait for her to look at me. And when she does, she doesn’t stop laughing. “You are, too.”

  “I am.”

  Temptation wins the battle I’ve been facing all night, and I run a finger down the side of her face, but she sobers up quickly. “I need to go to sleep.”

  “Cady…”

  “Let me up, please.” Immediately, I let my arms fall, and she stands, albeit on wobbly legs. “Thank you for keeping me company, but I really should go to sleep.”

  I understand this was a lot for her tonight, so I get up and meet her where she’s already waiting for me at the door. “Thanks for dinner.”

  “It was just a frozen lasagna.”

  “But it was delicious.” The drunkenness is taking over, and her lids get heavy. “I owe you a foot rub.”

  She tries to wave me off and sways again. “I was joking. Good night, Gabriel.”

  Bringing my hand to cup her face once more, I slide it down to the back of her neck and give a small squeeze. “Night, sugar.”

  Cady

  I think I hear a knock on my door, and I stick my head out of my bathroom in order to listen better. When I hear it again, I shuffle down the hallway and through my kitchen. Squinting into the peephole, I see that it’s Gabriel, which, as surprised as I am, I’m kind of not. I open the door with my toothbrush still in my mouth, so when I ask what he’s doing here, it sounds like a garbled mess.

  He bites his lip, and I watch as his eyes smile as they take me in; my silk shorts and matching tank that clearly shows I’m not wearing a bra. I forgot I was still in my PJs, and I hold my other hand up, then turn and scurry back to the bathroom.

  After I spit my toothpaste in the sink, I grab my robe off the hook on the bathroom door and put it on as I go back to the kitchen. His back is to me, and I take the time to admire how nice his butt looks in his jeans as he’s looking at my calendar on the fridge. “Hey.”

  He turns around. “Hey.” That’s all he says.

  “Um. Do you need something?”

  “Just you. I’m gonna walk you to work. You start at ten, right?”

  “What?”

  “The library. It opens at ten?”

  What is going on? “Yeah.”

  “Okay, cool. Figured it only takes about fifteen minutes to walk, but you probably get there a little early. Did you eat?”

  “No.”

  “Do you like eggs?”

  “What?”

  He smirks. “Cady, babe. You awake yet?” At the word babe, my head snaps up, and the smile on his face falls and his forehead wrinkles. What’s going on? “Cady,” he prompts again.

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat. Why is he always trying to feed me? “Yes, I like eggs, but I have a protein bar I always have and eat on the way. You don’t need to—”

  “I know I don’t need to do anything. I want to. Go get dressed, and I’ll wait here for you.”

  “Why?”

  His chin drops to his chest. “You know why. Now go. Get ready.”

  I don’t, really, but I do what he says only because that’s what I was doing before he got here. “Oookay.” Turning around, I head to my bedroom and then close the door behind me. I lean against it and take a breath. If I didn’t know who he was, there is no way I’d be comfortable with how… assertive he’s being. But despite barely knowing him, I know him.

  And I like him being close. I like that he cares that I walk to and from work alone. I think a part of him reminds me of my dad. He makes me feel safe, and I haven’t felt that for years. I smile as I brush my hair and quickly change into an argyle-patterned skirt that stops above my knees over brown tights and a white shirt that buttons up the front and finish it off with a pair of brown knee-high boots that have little skulls on the buckles.

  When I get to the kitchen, his back is to me, and he’s at my stove. He must hear me because he turns around and then eyes my outfit. “You look pretty,” he compliments.

  “Thanks.” I wander over to where he is and see that he’s made a huge pan of eggs. I didn’t even realize I had that many in the carton. “Please tell me you’re eating some, too.”

  He shuts the burner off. “I was planning on it… unless you want them all.”

  Reaching up, I grab a couple of plates and hold them out while he evenly distributes the eggs. I carry them to the counter, and he grabs a couple of forks. After he gives me mine, I tilt my plate and scrape half of what he gave me onto his plate. “I’ll never eat that much.”

  “You barely have any left.”

  I shrug and stab some onto my fork. “I’m not really hungry in the mornings.”

  “Probably why you stay so tiny.”

  I roll my eyes and take a bite. “These are really good.”

  “It’s kind of hard to screw up eggs.”

  I lift a shoulder and continue eating.

  “Oh, here.” He slides a box over to me, and I almost choke when I swallow.

  “What’s that?”

  “Just a phone.” He shovels more food in his mouth.

  I stare at the box. “Why?”

  “You don’t have a cell phone. You need one, especially since you walk to and from work alone.”

  “Uh…”

  “It’s not a big deal, and it’s nothing fancy. My number’s saved, and I wrote yours on the inside of the box. I just want you to have it in case you ever need it. But more so I can get a hold of you whenever I want,” he adds mischievously.

  I continue stari
ng at it while falling more and more in love with him.

  “Just leave it here. I’ll be walking you to and from work so you won’t need it anyway, and I’ll show you how to use it tonight, okay?”

  “Um. Okay.”

  He finishes before me since I wasted so much time staring at a phone box, and as soon as I’m done, I grab my coat, and we stroll out together. Just like yesterday, he holds my hand. His affection is nice, but it confuses me. I don’t fight it, though. I should question it, but I’m afraid of what the answer is. My heart has held a place for him since I was fifteen years old. I never thought I’d actually be friends with him, let alone friends who held hands.

  When we get to the library, I unfortunately have to unclasp our fingers so I can get my keys and open the door. I turn to tell him thank you when he pushes the door open and motions for me to precede him. “Ga—”

  “Go.” He interrupts me, and instead of arguing, I go in and turn on the lights. After I set my purse beneath my desk, I stand fully and twitch at the shock of seeing him so close. “I’m gonna take off. You done at six?”

  “You don’t need to wa—”

  “Cady, baby, I don’t do anything I don’t want to. So stop telling me what I don’t need when I know exactly what I want.”

  My breath freezes in my throat at the implication.

  “So I’ll ask again, are you off at six?”

  Unable to form a sentence, I simply nod.

  And then he leans forward, just slightly, and I jump when his hand slides through my hair and his fingers cradle my head. His lips ever so gently brush against my cheek, and he glides his hand out of my hair, down my neck, and halfway over my collarbone before he lifts it again and cups my jaw, then runs his thumb across my lower lip. “Later, sugar.”

  Those parting words stay with me. The smell of him lingers. The feel of his hands warms my skin. And all day, my senses are ping-ponging from one to the other as I continually think about him for hours on end.

  Somehow, I manage to get my work done and get the community room ready for the senior bridge club at two o’clock.

  After floating around on air all day, my heart skips a beat when Gabriel saunters in, and I can’t even hide the happiness on my face at seeing him again. It’s been eight hours since he left, but it feels like way less. Or maybe it’s more because I kind of missed him. A lot. “Hi.”

  “Hey.”

  “I’m almost done. Just give me a second.”

  I like how he stands close as I finish up and close everything down. I like that he pushes open the door for me and lets me go first. I like that as soon as I finish locking up, he takes my hand. I like that he doesn’t let me stand close to the curb. I like everything about him. I like it more than I thought I would, and it almost scares me how easy it is between us.

  It isn’t even discussed whether he’s going to come into my apartment with me or not. He just does it as though it’s something we’ve been doing for years. “I’ll make us something to eat. Go change or whatever you need to do to wind down from the day.”

  “Okay.” I rush to my room and get some comfy clothes, then go to the bathroom and take care of business and grab a quick shower without washing my hair. I only use shampoo and conditioner twice a week; otherwise, my hair gets too dried out. After sliding my sweat shorts on, I pull the tank top over my head and lean on the basin, examining my face.

  I don’t know what he sees in me because all that I see is a girl with green eyes and some freckles across her nose. I see a girl who is… simple and plain. And that girl is in way over her head. But nobody’s forcing Gabriel to be here, so I need to stop second-guessing everything and just enjoy our time together, no matter how short it may be.

  Putting on a confident face as best as I can, I arrive in the kitchen just as he’s plating some chicken and what looks like noodles. “Perfect timing.”

  “It smells great.”

  “Sit. Eat. You want a beer?”

  “No, water’s good. Thanks.”

  He hands me a cold bottle after he twists the top off, and I hide my grin at how odd it is that he’s serving me in my own house. I sit down and settle into the stool and take in the plate of chicken before me. When I take a bite into the crispy tenders he’s fried, I nearly vomit when my tongue collides with raw dough. Oh my God. It’s terrible. The seasoning is awful but luckily the rock-hard coating takes away from some of the overwhelming spice he must have put in the batter.

  I gulp down half the water while he’s grabbing a beer. I then put my fork into the noodles, and they kind of… melt. They’re nothing but mush, and I wonder how he could mess them up so badly. He fooled me with a sandwich and eggs. But he’s so cute, and he tried so hard; there’s no way I can tell him they’re terrible.

  So I choke down another bite of chicken after I’ve peeled off the outer part, hoping it’s more palatable. But it’s not. It’s almost worse.

  He sits next to me, and I wince at the dry just god-awfulness that scrapes down my throat. I chug more water and see him lifting a piece to his mouth. And then cringe.

  His Adam’s apple bobs, and he pulls his chin into his neck and grimaces. “Oh my God, what the fuck?” He spits the food onto his plate and brushes his tongue with a napkin. “That’s disgusting.”

  I stifle a giggle, and he reaches over and grabs my plate. “Why the fuck are you eating that shit? It’s gross.” He takes his plate as well and goes to dump all the food in the garbage, then takes the pan and does the same with its contents. “That was so freakin’ nasty, woman. Why didn’t you say something?”

  He turns and faces me, and if I’m not mistaken, his cheeks are a little pink. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “My feelings? Who gives a fuck about hurting my feelings? That shit is gonna hurt your fuckin’ stomach. Good Christ, that was terrible!” He heads for the door. “I’m gonna go get some edible chicken; be back in a half hour.”

  He’s out of the door before I even realize he’s left, and I drop my head to the counter and laugh so hard my stomach hurts. After I finally gather my wits, I go to the couch and turn the TV on.

  I’m halfway into a rerun of a crime show when he returns, and he plops down next to me. “This is much better.”

  “You ate some already?” I ask as I sit up.

  “Yup. Had to take a small bite to make sure it was edible.” He winks, and I know why when he takes out the bucket of chicken and it’s already half gone.

  I sigh and stifle a giggle, and then sit back on the couch and eat decent chicken. He somehow eats more, and when we’re both done, I take everything to the kitchen and clean up, then come back with another beer for him.

  Sitting back down on the opposite end as him, I yelp when I’m yanked onto my back with my feet in his lap. “What are you doing?” I jerk my leg, but his fingers tighten.

  “Giving you your foot rub.”

  I roll my eyes. “I was joking. I honestly don’t know where that even came from.”

  “It came from your drunken mouth.” He smirks.

  “Exactly… I didn’t really want one.” He presses his thumb into the arch of my foot, and I can’t hide the moan that rolls up my throat, down my tongue, and through my lips.

  “A bet is a bet. You walked a straight line… granted, you fell, but the walking was straight, and that was the bet.”

  “Okay, fine.” I sigh as if him rubbing my feet is a chore. “If you must.”

  I’m glad I took a shower and have red painted toenails because feet aren’t exactly the sexiest things. And when his hands start making their way upward, over my ankles and to my calves where he massages those, I’m so unbelievably thankful I shaved my legs.

  His touch is soothing, and I find myself sinking into the cushions. He shifts, and I feel something very hard at the heel of my foot, and my eyes fly open to find his on me. And they’re hot. He just watches my face, studies it, memorizes it as he continues working magic with his hands.

  He tur
ns so he’s got his left leg next to me on the couch, and his right is bent at the knee, his foot resting on the floor. And then he grabs me behind the knees and hauls me up his body, so my legs are spread open and my crotch is only inches from his.

  Goose bumps cover my skin and I feel a tingling between my legs that spreads through my heated blood and sets off sparks in my heart. A low rumble comes from his chest, and I watch his hands on me. Strong fingers dig into my thighs, thumbs grazing the juncture beneath my shorts and making me insane.

  I’ve never felt anything like this, and I wriggle on top of him. It’s like it’s too much, but at the same time, I want more; more pressure, more toward my sweet spot. My pussy clenches when the tips of his fingers ghost down to my knees and then back up.

  I don’t know what he wants… what he’s doing. Am I supposed to be doing something? Does he enjoy driving me insane? “Gabe…”

  “Shh.”

  “But—”

  “Cady, sugar, just relax. Let me touch you.”

  I sink back down and nod. “Okay.” And then I lay back and let him do just that. He rubs my legs from my hips to the tops of my toes, and I never knew it could feel so good. He doesn’t touch the one place that’s desperate for his attention, and I let it be, because if I offered my virginity up to him on a platter, he’d think I was a slut. But he gets close. So close.

  His determined expression wavers as pensive eyes follow the movement of his hands to studying my face, my parted lips, shallow breaths, and back again. Then suddenly, he lifts my leg off him and sets my foot on the floor. He surges over me, and I don’t know if it’s unintentional or not, but his cock nestles at my core, and I whimper at the delicious contact.

  “I’m gonna leave now, okay?”

  “But—”

  “I have to.”

  I refuse to beg him, so I just press my lips together and give a short jerk of my head.

  His eyes dance over my face once more, and then his lips descend, and just when I think they’ll hit mine, he brings them to my cheek. “Night, sugar.”