I awoke, groggy, wrapping my arms around my head in order to shield my eyes, and ears, from the bright light coming in through my window, the growl of my neighbor’s lawn mower. My skull felt as if someone had cracked it in two, I could feel the blood pulsing over my temples rhythmically; I wanted more than anything in that moment to curl up and fall back into a dreamless sleep.
“Urgh,” I groaned, hugging my knees up to my chest and squeezing my eyes shut and grimacing, slowly trying to integrate my senses back to reality. I held my hands up over my head and squinted at them, checking to see if I could still count how many digits I was holding up on each hand. I realized soon after that this could never work, maybe I was still a little drunk from the night before.
The doorbell rang and I rolled over, wrapping my pillow around my head, trying to muffle the shrill noise. I glanced over at my clock, at the digits glowing a neon green. It was already twelve o’clock, and I knew I should be getting up, in order to do the homework I had put off the night before. I stood and stretched my arms out over my head, sucking my stomach in against my ribs, taking a deep breath. I found some tracksuit bottoms strewn across my bedroom floor before snatching my sunglasses up from my desk, slipping them on over my aching eyes, making my way down the stairs and to the front door.
“I brought coffee,” Gabriel grinned, holding a cup out to me. How did he look so refreshed?
“I feel like dying,” I said flatly, ushering him into the front hall and shutting the door behind him, leaning against it and tipping my head back to rest against the wood.
“You were having considerably more fun the last time I saw you,” he laughed, and even his smooth timbre was enough to make my head scream in protest. “What’s with the sunglasses?”
“What do you think?” I snapped, grabbing the coffee and taking a sip, immediately feeling a little better, my body invigorated.
“Ready to get started on the essay?” He asked brightly, starting up the stairs to my room.
“Um, how about no?” I replied, following him upstairs slowly, waiting as he stood in the doorway, staring inside curiously. “What?”
“It’s weird, I kind of pictured it this way,” Gabes shrugged.
His eyes were flicking over the cluttered room, which I had painted a very pale blue, with photos pinned up. My desk was old and wooden, and my bed was pushed up by the window, so I could see the blue sky when I woke up each morning. It reminded me of just how lucky I was to be here, in this city, alive. I’d hung fairy lights around the whole room and bookshelves lined the walls. I ducked under his arm and collapsed onto my bed, grabbing my English book, from the pile by my bedside table, and started to flick through my notes. Gabriel sat on my desk chair, spinning around on it childishly.
“I don’t really want to do English you know?” He sighed, staring up at the ceiling as he turned round and round and round.
“Who would, but I guess it’s got to be done,” I frowned, taking a pen and scribbling my name down at the top of a new piece of paper. Gabriel stopped turning and grabbed his notepad, writing something down before holding it up to me.
“Did you have a good time last night?” His handwriting was messy and slanted, and it was hard to decipher it.
“What I can remember,” I spoke, starting to write an introduction, “yeah.” I nodded and looked up at him, smiling modestly. “I’m bored,” I groaned dramatically, ripping out the page in my jotter and throwing it across the floor.
“I actually hate English,” Gabriel agreed, continuing to spin around on the chair, making me feel dizzy.
“I don’t really see the point of it,” I confessed, “we can all read and write.” I took another sip of my steaming hot coffee, burning my bottom lip slightly, the bittersweet smell making me feel more alert.
“Do you still read a lot?” He wondered.
“Uh-huh,” I gestured to the rows of full bookshelves and Gabes let out a low chuckle.
“I didn’t see,” he smiled, looking down at his knees, tucking them up and sitting cross legged. “Jia, do we have to?” He sulked. I thought for a moment, tried to think of our possibilities, any excuse or way we could get out of doing it.
“We could just get the cliff notes online?” I suggested, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh thank God,” Gabriel sighed, exasperated, “I thought you’d never come up with anything.” He twirled around on the chair and logged onto my computer, printing off two different essays that we could change slightly so that it didn’t look too suspicious. Don’t get me wrong, I was no cheater, grades and exams were important. I mean, they used to be. Back in England I had been so uptight, stressed over friends and school and family, Harry especially.
“So, what happened after I passed out last night?” I asked, leaning against my wall and leaning my chin against my knees, trying to distract myself from thinking of him.
“Well, Leila had already passed out, although Henry was still pretty manic. I think we had just finished playing Would You Rather when you just crashed out,” Gabriel explained.
“Oh God,” I flinched, “Would You Rather? Really?”
“Turns out you’d rather make out with me than Henry,” his eyes seemed to glimmer then.
“Aww, no,” I groaned, putting my face in my hands. “I was drunk! I didn’t know what I was talking about!”
“So it’s not true?” He retorted.
“No, well, no, it’s not,” I lied, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Oh really?” Gabriel widened his eyes disbelievingly. “Well, I must admit, I’m a little hurt,” he joked, laughing.
“No, well, I don’t know, I’m not sure, I was drunk and-” I began to babble on, knowing full well that I was digging myself a hole.
“-Don’t blame it on the alcohol, Cheung,” he grinned. “If it makes you feel any better, I’d rather make out with you than Henry too.”
“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, I know,” he winked, prompting me to stick out my tongue at him.
“You know, when you were asleep, in the back of the car last night, you said my name,” he mentioned nonchalantly. I wasn’t so sure anymore that I wanted to know what had happened last night.
“Yeah? Well, I have spent like every day with you since I’ve moved back,” I reasoned, but I knew from the tone of his voice that he thought it meant something more.
“I really like you, Jia,” he stopped spinning the chair all of a sudden. “I just thought I ought to tell you that, because I always have and I’ve been trying to find the right time and there just doesn’t seem to be the right time, ever, to tell one of your best friends something like that.”
“Gabes, I do like you,” I said, and he looked up at me, his face a mask of pure surprise.
“You do?”
“Yes,” I paused, and we said but simultaneously. He rolled his eyes and turned around in the chair again, propelling himself by pushing against the drawers of my desk.
“I don’t want to lose this Gabriel!” I exclaimed, flicking my fringe from my eyes with a tired turn of the head.
“You wouldn’t!” He exclaimed, his eyes begging. “You would never lose me.”
“I’m sorry, Gabes,” I was finding it extremely hard to look at him directly.
He stood from the chair only to sit back down again, then stand up and head towards the door, his steps fast and broad. I jumped up and hurried after him, grasping onto the back of his t-shirt and forcing him to turn around and look at me. I wasn’t sure how a morning as lovely as this, the chatter and the jokes, had suddenly turned into something so serious. It was the truth, what I had told him, that I didn’t want us to stop being friends, but I also felt guilty, because I had lied. I did like him, I liked him so much, more than he could possibly ever like me, but I knew I was no good for him.
“Please, Gabriel,” I pleased, “don’t do this, don’t change all of this.”
“It’s alright!” He assured me, plastering on an obviously fake smile, despite the fact I could see the sadness in his eyes. “I’m fine, really,” he gave me a hug and I clutched to him, knotting my fingers into the jersey of his shirt. “I’ll see you Monday,” he whispered, letting go and jogging down the stairs, hiding his face.
“Gabes!” I called down over the bannisters, clutching to them desperately. He turned slowly, looking up at me, one hand on the door handle, ready to run out and leave me. “You should know,” I started, gulping, “I’m damaged goods.” This made him chuckle sardonically, and I wasn’t sure why.
“Jia,” he looked weary, “we all are.”
And then he left, without saying another word.