Healing Gabriel: Chapter Thirty-Four
〒|〒Evan's POV〒|〒
The second time I woke up, it was to peacefulness, thank God. The late morning sunlight seemed to seep in through the spaces between white, partially opened blinds, bathing the room in a warm gold. A few dots appeared in front of my eyes as I tried to blink away the fuzziness of sleep. I couldn't help the leisure smile on my lips when I noticed that the plain, sun-coated bedroom walls around me looked as if they were covered in polka dots. Ha-ha, polka dots. Those things are so weird.
When I tried to stretch my cramped muscles out, I realized that I couldn't. A body was keeping me still, warming me more than the blankets drifting down my torso ever could. I tilted my head to the side as much as I could to try and get a better look at the exhausted, blond-haired angel sleeping soundlessly next to me without disrupting him. His blond hair was dry now, looking so soft that it seemed to only dust across his forehead. His eyebrows were furrowed a bit, his jaw locked as if he was gritting his teeth. He was not tranquil like other people were when they slept. Then again, he never slept peacefully. His eyelids were draped over his gunmetal blue eyes like pale blankets, his dark lashes blending in with the dark circles beneath his eyes, reminding me of his tiredness and making me recall the early morning chaos.
Seeing him like that, in such a lucid, hysterical state, made my eyes start to sting all over again. I remembered his screaming and sobs and the way he tried to get away from me, begging me to leave him alone, as if he had forgotten who I was. As if he thought I was him, the man who destroyed him. That part definitely hurt the most, definitely took a huge toll on me. He used to respond to my touches as soon as they happened; he would relax as soon as my fingers coursed through his thick mane of hair. Nowadays it was starting to take a bit longer for him to get over any sudden panic attacks. It seemed as if he was trying to will himself to calm down rather than being immediately lulled by me.
Were we starting to lose our connection? I asked myself, looking up at the white ceiling. My throat felt tight, probably from the heavy emotions I was feeling. Was he really so broken that even I could no longer help him?
No, I argued back against my pessimistic thoughts. No, that's not true. None of that could be true. I was still helping him, still affecting him in positive ways; he had told me that himself. Plus, we trusted each other--I knew he trusted me, that he wasn't just saying it. I remembered the look in his eyes, watering with some sort of relief, as if he couldn't believe he was finally able to trust someone again. He trusted me to help him, to keep him safe, and I promised him I would. And if things got harder, I'd be right there with him to challenge the obstacle.
Last night was one hell of an obstacle, though. It unnerved me to the point where I nearly broke down in sobs with him. I'd had no idea what to do at one point, no idea how to help him, and when he started clawing at his arms, making himself bleed--
A soft sigh took control of my thoughts as Gabriel moved against me. I glanced over at him to see if he'd awoken, but he was still fast asleep, only much closer to me now. Our legs were still tangled underneath the blanket, but his movements had caused his right leg to hike higher up, his thigh centimeters away from my crotch. His mouth was nearly pressed against my jaw, his light pink lips parted the slightest bit, allowing his breath to fan the area with each exhale that escaped him.
That, you see, was a problem. A problem that wasn't as severe as last night's/early morning's, but a problem nonetheless. I was already sporting a little bit of morning wood, and he wasn't helping it. Well, if you think about, he kinda was . . .
Stop it, I growled inside my head, trying to shift my hips away from him but that was the completely wrong move to do, on my behalf, at least. That's disgusting. That's Gabriel, dammit, he shouldn't be turning me on like this.
But he's my boyfriend, I thought, conflicted. He's supposed to turn me on. Right?
I was then aware of a vibrating against my leg, of course sending vibrations to the inner part of my thighs, made me huff a curse. I reached into my jean pocket and pulled out my buzzing cellphone, pushing Gabe's small thigh back down across my lower thighs. I answered my phone without checking who it was, answering with a groggy greeting that even I had a hard time understanding. My voice pained the back of my throat and stole practically all the breath I had inside me. I tried to swallow my saliva a couple times to soothe my aching throat, taking in small breaths through my nose as well.
"Evan?" a relieved, angered, and choked up voice asked all at once. I recognized the voice as my mother's.
"Mmf?" I muttered, still trying to figure out how to talk again.
"Oh, my god, you little shit!" she gasped. "Where are you? You better have a good excuse, mister, I've been trying to reach you all night and morning! I almost called the cops, you know that?"
I furrowed my eyebrows at her rambling. "Uh?" I asked, my voice scratchy but making more of a breakthrough, at least. Shit, I was kinda scared for myself, and her being pissed at me for something I didn't even have a clue about wasn't helping.
"Oh, you are so grounded when I get my hands on you, Evander James Ricci, do you have any idea how worried I was about you? Where are you?"
"Calm down, Jesus Christ, Mom," I huffed out, clenching my eyes tightly at the rawness of my throat. I tried my best to speak quietly as not to wake up Gabriel, but that only made the air brush against the back of my throat and dry it out, making me cough. "I thought Dylan told you I was spending the night at Gabriel's house? I texted him last night to tell you 'cause I didn't want to bother you at work." I sat up a bit in the makeshift bed, leaning my pillow against the wall and taking in breaths, still confused and still tired.
There was a loud huff of breath. I could tell she was trying to calm herself. "Well, he didn't."
Well, it isn't my fault you had a fucking retard for a firstborn, I thought, slightly annoyed at her for being so pissy with me when I'd just woken up. "I'm sorry I worried you," I mumbled instead, rubbing at my eyes.
"It's okay," she sighed. "I'm just glad you're safe. Now I've gotta go deal with Dylan." I smirked at the thought of my idiot older brother getting in trouble. He'd probably been drunk or something last night, forgetting about my text. Idiot. "Be home before dinner, okay?"
Gabriel's parents should be home before then, so I didn't mind. "Okay," I agreed, about to hang up when she gasped. "What?"
"I almost forgot! I signed you up for a doctor's appointment April twentieth, okay?"
"What?" I asked, speaking so harshly my throat burned and Gabriel twitched beside me.
"Your voice has been getting worse and worse, honey, and your coach left a message last night, concerned about your performance during your recent practices and your health." I let out a protest, but she kept talking. "It's for the best, okay? I just want you to be healthy."
"I'm fine, mom, honest, I don't need--" I started coughing. Of course, just go ahead and let my cough's shitty timing prove her point even more.
"That doesn't sound fine to me, mister. Three weeks, you better be ready. And don't forget, dinner's at seven." And with that, the call ended. I let out a frustrated groan, tucking my phone back in my pocket. On the positive side, my crotch problem was now taken care of. On the negative side, I now had a goddamn doctor's appointment to go to in three weeks. That meant I had three weeks to live before the doctors probably diagnosed me with some sort of fatal disease and I died.
I laid back down in the makeshift bed, careful not to jostle Gabe around too much. I just wanted to go back to sleep, to continue being warm and comfortable in his yellow room with the sunlight stretching across the floor, as if it were trying to reach our leisure bodies and wake us. Although, I was already awake and Gabriel needed as much sleep as he could get.
Rolling onto my side as slowly as a cement truck rolled the contents inside it, I decided to keep an eye on him until he woke up. Maybe if I watched for any signs of an oncoming nightmare, I could wake him up before a single pained whimper left his lips.
I noticed, after precisely twenty seconds, that he was an extremely beautiful little thing. This up close to him, I could see the little things I about him that I hadn't gotten the chance to really pick up on before. Like, for instance, he didn't have the perfect, flawless creamy skin like I'd thought--there were about a dozen or less faded freckles flecked across the top of the bridge of his nose. They were so light I could barely pick up on them. I almost thought my eyes were playing tricks on me again, making me see polka dots like earlier. But they weren't, and it was kind of nice.
I also grew aware of several other things about his face, like how his top eyelashes were darker than his bottom ones, or how his bottom lip was slightly plumper than his top. I saw that one of his eyebrows, the one he usually had covered by the fringe of his hair, had a scar on it. It was a white scar, a small one that only took up a bit of space in the center of his left eyebrow. The scar was only about three centimeters long, and bare, no hair growing over it. Just around it. Huh. I'd have to ask him about it at some point, including the ones on his chest.
I wanted to watch him sleep all day, so I could keep finding those little flaws on his outer appearance instead of his inner, more severe ones. I wanted to ignore his PTSD, his anxiety, his panic attacks, his constant flashbacks, his fear of letting someone touch him. I wanted to forget about all of those things and instead just cherish the little flaws on the outside, the little flaws that reminded me how he was still as much of a human as myself, that his past did not completely knock him into oblivion.
But, sadly, I couldn't. He was starting to wake up, I think, or about to be overcome by a nightmare. The muscles in his jaws were spasming as he gritted his teeth, his eyelids fluttering and clenching shut. An incomprehensible sound escaped his throat, something between a whimper and a gasp. He started to squirm next to me, seeming very distressed. I knew that I had to wake him up.
My throat was still aching and did not allow me to catch my breath as easily as I should. But I ignored the pain and called Gabe's name in a gentle yet strong voice, gripping his shoulder and giving it a small shake.
"Ngh . . . N-n . . . N-no . . . " he whispered, his voice tight, his forehead starting to perspire. I knew I only had minutes, maybe seconds before last night's ordeal would make another appearance. I shook him a bit harder, talking to him more and more.
"Gabriel, kitten, wake up. You need to wake up, honey, please listen to me. Wake up, Gabriel, you're having a nightmare. You need to wake up."
He let out a soft cry, barely audible as he rolled away from me and buried his face against the giant teddy bear I got him. I pushed myself into a sitting position, dragging him into my lap before he could suffocate himself. The side of his head lolled against my chest as he let out yet another pained whimper, his nails digging in the palms of his hands as he clenched his fists shut.
"Wake up, Gabriel, come on, kitten," I encouraged, nuzzling him. I started kissing around his face, all his adorable little imperfections, in a way to distract him from the bad thoughts. Maybe he could regain consciousness that way.
It wasn't until I squeezed his shoulders tightly against me, kissing his lips and repeatedly calling his name until my throat burned that he let out a sharp gasp. I pulled back, look down at him as his eyelids fluttered for several seconds before slowly opening. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he stared up at me. I smiled down at him, proud of myself for keeping him safe.
"Well, good morning Sleeping Beauty," I teased lightly, running my hand through his hair. He furrowed his brows, pursing his lips.
"Uh?" he asked in a soft voice, much more airy than the one he'd spoken with seconds ago. His sleepy voice was adorable; it was like a bowl of fluff and happiness. "What time is it?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his fists as his breathing went back to normal.
"Almost twelve in the afternoon," I told him, checking my phone. Whoa, almost two hours had passed since I'd woken up. Had time really gone by so fast? He made a face before shutting his eyes again, rolling off my lap and back onto his side of the makeshift bed.
"It feels earlier than that," he sighed against my knee, hugging it. I chuckled, trying to hold in the coughs that threatened to breakthrough my chest if I didn't let them out. Ugh, maybe I just needed a couple of cough drops and tea or something. I'd ask him for some in a bit.
"Well, you did just wake up," I replied, rubbing the top of his head, trying to smooth down some of his bed head.
"And I'm still so tired. Why'd you wake me up?" He blinked open his eyes, staring at me in confusion. I furrowed my eyebrows at him questioningly. He must've interpreted my expression wrong, for he gave me a sheepish look, trying to explain himself. "Not that I minded. It was nice, waking up to you kissing me instead of . . . something like last night, I guess."
I offered him a smirk before biting my lip, my eyebrows still furrowed. "You don't remember?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No. After I fell back asleep, I didn't dream again. I mean, I guess I started hearing and seeing the ghost of things again, but they weren't as vivid as before, you know?" He laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling quizzically.
"Weird," I agreed, lying back down next to him.
"So why'd you wake me up?" he repeated, turning his head to the side. His eyes were so bright when he first woke up; they blue contrasted shockingly against the pristine white backdrop of his eyes. And the way the sun, which finally succeeded in stretching its rays long enough to invade our shadowed corner, graced over his face, letting some of his freckles I'd found earlier show a bit in the spotlight. He was such a beautiful little thing, I'd never been so enraptured by another human being, never really picked up on as many details as I did with him.
He cleared his throat, nudging my shoulder against his own. "Huh?" was all I could say, having forgotten his question.
"You're staring at me like I'm not human," he said, purrowing at me.
"You're not," I agreed, letting my fingers stroke the side of his face. He made a face.
"Then what am I?"
"I don't know. Something otherworldly. You're too, like, beautiful to be human. And perfect. You're really beautiful and perfect, you know that? Wow." I let out a soft sigh of realization that tickled my throat uncomfortably.
He laughed, one of the sweetest sounds to hear in the morning. "Shut up," he murmured.
"Hey," I said, adding a bit more seriousness to my leisure ramblings. "Learn to take a compliment. You really are gorgeous. Worth more than the marigolds, am I right?"
He just closed his eyes, smiling a tiny smile that made all of my anger, frustration, and worries fade away. "Mhm," he agreed softly. After a moment, he asked, "So are you going to tell me why you woke me up or what?"
"Oh, yeah," I said, suddenly remembering the topic from before. "You were mumbling things, and you looked really uncomfortable. Like you were about to have another nightmare. I just wanted to wake you up before it happened."
His cheeks turned a light red. "Oh. Thanks, I guess. How long have you been up?"
"Not long," I lied. I didn't want him to know that I spent at least two hours staring at his face while he slept. Now that I thought about it, I guess it did sound kind of weird. But I hadn't meant to be creepy . . .
"Oh," was all he said. There was a short silence before I saw him rubbing his upper arms with the palms of his hands, making a discontented face.
"How do they feel?" I asked, referring to his scratched up arms from last night. Just seeing the slightly raised marks covered only somewhat by pink Hello Kitty bandaids made my eyes wet. I still remembered seeing the blood, the way his fingers dug and clawed into his own skin. I then recalled taking care of him afterwords; I recalled the way my fingers trembled as I placed the bandaids on the deep scratches, still overcome with the shock of everything.
"They hurt," he muttered, clenching his eyes shut. "They sting a lot." I reached over and massaged the top of his head with my right hand and gave him a sympathetic look. "Your voice sounds awful," he sighed after five minutes. "Really, Evan, I've been trying not to pester you about it, but it's getting worse. You can't even breathe right."
"Relax," I sighed, pulling the blankets over my head in annoyance. I wasn't annoyed of him, no, not at all. I was annoyed at everyone stressing out and worrying themselves all because of my stupid sore throat. "My mom made an appointment for me to get it checked out in three weeks, so you and everyone else can let it go." I hadn't meant to sound snappish, but I was tired and, yes, fearful of whatever the hell was going on with me.
"We're just concerned for you," he murmured, appearing under the blankets as he pulled them over his head as well. "Just like you worry about me 24/7, I worry about you, too. Relationships are two-sided, you know. It's not just about one of us, it's about both of us. Okay?"
I just nodded my head, pressing my lips against his own. I felt him pull away a fraction of an inch before he started kissing me back, his lips soft and a bit dry against my own. It was hard to breathe, not just because of my respiratory system acting like a dick but also the fact that it was naturally becoming really warm around us due to all the body heat radiating from us and our soft breaths trapped underneath the blanket.
"You're gonna make yourself pass out," Gabriel giggled, breaking the kiss and letting the cool air of his bedroom envelope us as he pulled off the blanket. I made a face, protesting, but he shook his head. "Come on, let's go downstairs. I'll make you some tea."
"I don't like tea," I said, acting like a four year old who was upset about not getting his way.
"Neither do I. I'll just heat you up some, like, broth then. 'Kay?"
"Mm'kay."
We both rose from the bed on the floor, him dressed in the loose gray sweatpants and loose white t-shirt from last night. He must've taken his sweatshirt off during his sleep. I was still in my plain blue t-shirt and jeans from yesterday, but I didn't mind. It wasn't like I was filthy or anything.
"Your hair's cute in the morning," I told him while we went downstairs. He stopped on the bottom step, almost making me run into him. He turned around, holding onto the railing with one hand to help balance himself as he got on his tiptoes.
"And yours isn't," he teased, sticking his tongue out as he used his free to try and rid of the wild waves my hair was filled with.
I only smirked. "Whatever, meanie. Go make me something to eat, I'm hungry."
He took the last step down and went through the short hallway that led to the kitchen. "You're not eating anything, you're drinking broth. Then maybe some Tylenol or Ibuprofen. Something extra to take the inflammation away from your throat."
"I don't like medicine," I sighed, sitting down at the table. "I'm not even sick. You shouldn't even be taking care of me. We should go do something, like go to a roller rink or a bowling alley, or an arcade. Does Clydesdale even have an arcade?"
"No," he said, shaking his head as he poured a can of some sort into a pot on the stove, "it doesn't. And we're not going anywhere either. Besides, I like just being with you, in your presence, safe from the outside world."
I watched him with a sympathetic gaze. "We can go in public and still be safe, Gabe."
"I don't feel safe out in the open," he mumbled, heating up the stove.
"Not even with me?"
He didn't answer, just searched through a medicine cabinet, reading labels and either putting things back or off to the side. I sighed, coughed, then rested my chin on my arms as I listened to him rife around some more.
I must've dozed off, for when I cracked open my eyes again, a bowl of something steamy and delicious caught all attention of my nose and eyes.
"Sorry for keeping you up half the night," Gabriel murmured, sitting down in the chair across from me. "You must be tired."
I shook my head, suppressing a yawn. "Don't be sorry, I'm just lazy on weekends in general."
"I'm usually an early bird," he replied quietly, inserting a metal spoon into the bowl. I dragged the bowl closer to me get better whiffs of it. It smelled awesome.
"What even is this?" I asked.
"Um, it's supposed to be chicken noodle, but I separated the contents from the broth just for you."
"Whatta sweetheart," I gushed, leaning over the table and cupping his face in my hands, over-exaggerating the wet kisses I planted on each of his cheeks. He laughed, pushing me away and wiping at his face with the bottom of his shirt. I laughed, too, but it hurt, so I decided to stop acting like a clown for five minutes and consume what he'd placed in front of me. Except for that.
"I said I didn't want any medicine," I said with a narrow-eyed glare at the small medicine-cap/cup thing filled half-way with an orange, syrupy liquid.
"It's berry flavored."
"Like hell it's berry flavored," I scoffed. "That's just what they tell you it is, what they make it smell like to cover up the real taste."
"Which is?" he asked, giving me a droll look.
"The pungent taste of death and the tears of small orphans."
"You're so stubborn," he said, rolling his eyes, but I could see the grin he was trying to suppress. "Just drink it and get it over with. It'll make you feel better."
"I don't need medicine to make me feel better," I said, pushing the cap towards him. "All I need is this," I pointed to the broth in front of me, "that," I pointed towards the stairs, indicating the makeshift bed, "and you."
"Your attempt at being a sweetheart is baffling," he said, giving his head a small shake and hiding his eyes behind his hair, as if I wouldn't notice the pink tinging his cheeks.
"You're baffling," was the only comeback I could mutter back as I spooned some broth into my mouth. It was hot, very hot, but I wasn't going to let that be a drawback. The singeing liquid felt really good on my throat; it soothed the rawness, made it feel easier to breathe and swallow for several seconds until my mouth was empty and I had to spoon another mouthful in.
Gabriel eyed me for a while, making me wonder what he was thinking about. I wished I was a mind reader. Maybe then I could benefit him more, have a better idea on how to comfort him and whatnot. I was more than halfway finished with my soup when he rose from his seat, stopping next to me and picking up the small dosage of Ibuprofen. "What're you--" I started, but he already flipped the cup over and poured the contents into the remaining broth I had left in my bowl. I dropped the spoon in my hands onto the table.
"You've contaminated it," I gasped, horrified.
"Just finish it and we can make some jell-o, okay?"
"Why jell-o?"
"The gelatin is supposed to coat the back of your throat to make it feel better," he explained, fiddling with the strands of hair at the nape of my neck. If that was some sneaky little way to get me to do what he said, then it was working. "My mom used to make me it when I got strep."
I chewed on my bottom lip, contemplating my options. On one hand, I could suck it up and consume the rest of the medicine-broth and then go make jell-o with Gabriel, and on the other, I could feel like crap for the rest of the day. Week. Weeks. I could be stuck for weeks with this stupid throat.
With a scowl, I begrudgingly finished off the rest of the soup. I could taste the strong, tangy flavor of the medicine, barely watered down by the once-amazing-now-nasty broth.
"Yaaay," Gabe cheered quietly, kissing my cheek. I gave him a look as I pushed the now empty bowl away, but I couldn't hold my scowl for very long. His smile was so pretty and inviting, even if it was a small one. His smiles were always small, but that was okay. He was still smiling, and that was all that mattered. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Actually, it was," I sighed, pursing my lips and scraping my tongue against my teeth to get rid of the gross flavor.
"I doubt it," he said, giggling at my expression. "But now that it's over with, we can make jell-o!"
"I don't see what's so exciting about making jell-o," I deadpanned.
"Why, we get to make it together, that's what makes it so special," he said, talking in a heavily accented Southern accent, clasping his hands together and blinking his wide blue eyes at me. I was at least 92% sure he was mocking me for all the times I used the same type of gushy, heavily exaggerated flirting that made him blush so much.
To play along with it, I grasped at my heart with one hand over the other, giving him an adoring look as I opened my mouth in a surprised O. "Well ain't that just the sweetest, most romantic thang any man's done for a lonely little damsel like me," I said, pretending to swoon. He laughed, nudging my shoulder with his own.
"You're such a dork," he giggled in his normal, boyishly soft tone as he started going through another pair of cupboards, retrieving several boxes of multicolored jell-o.
"Do you even know how to make jell-o?" I asked him as he stretched up on his tiptoes, reaching for a couple of mixing cups and pans from the highest shelf. I stood up and grabbed them for him easily. He blushed in response, nodding at me before going back over to the table to drop off the supplies.
"It can't be that hard," he said, shrugging. "Just gotta mix this powder with some water, then pour it in a container and . . . that sounds really boring, doesn't it?" He cast his eyes over to me, where I was now dropping off the spoon, empty bowl and damned medicine cup in the sink.
"Extremely," I agreed. "We should make rainbow jell-o instead. I saw it in one of my mom's Home Cooking magazines."
"I don't know how to make that," he said, purrowing at me.
"Just pour all the powders together, duh."
"Ugh, haven't you learned one thing in art class? You can't mix all the colors on the color wheel or else you'll get a murky, nasty brown."
"Well, darn, then I don't know what to do."
He sighed, sitting down at the table, thinking. I leaned against the counter, thinking as well. We had all the materials, it seemed, including each of the seven colors of the rainbow. Now we just had to figure out how to put it all together without making a mess.
"I got it!" Gabriel chirped. I looked over at him, motioning for him to explain what he exactly got. "We need a female. Females make everything better; they know what to do. Plus, their cooking and baking always turns out better than two doofuses who don't know the difference between a spatula and a whisk."
"You don't know the difference between a spatula and a whisk?"
"That was just an example, Evan."
"Oh. Anyways, who're we gonna ask?"
"Alana," he said, almost immediately. I nodded in agreement; Alana was awesome. She probably knew how to make rainbow jell-o much more efficiently than, as Gabriel so delicately put it, two doofuses in a kitchen.
Pulling out my cellphone, I hoisted myself up onto the counter and dialed Alana's number. After three, four rings, she answered.
"What's up? You're on speaker, by the way," she said.
"Hi Evan!" a higher voice squealed--Jurnee.
"Hey, Jur," I greeted.
"You sound like shit," she responded.
"I said two words, how do you know whether I sound like shit or not?" I felt something hit the back of my head. I turned to look at Gabriel, who was giving me a look. I then glanced down at the floor, where an unopened packet of red jell-o sat.
"Why'd you do that?" I asked him, putting my phone against my chest.
"Don't swear."
I let out a frustrated sound, which made me cough hard, cutting off whatever Jurnee had been saying.
"We know you sound like shit because you're hacking up your freaking lungs," Alana huffed.
"Yeah, Evan, what the hell?" Jurnee asked.
"I didn't call you guys to listen to you berate me about my shitty throat, okay--Gabriel, can you not?" I asked when another jell-o packet, a blue one this time, hit my shoulder.
"What'd he do?" Alana asked.
"He keeps throwing jell-o packets at me every time I swear." I gave him a look, and his eyes widened at the knowledge of him being the topic of our conversation. "Yeah, and I'm gonna put you on speaker if you keep it up," I teased him, sticking out my tongue. His cheeks tinted pink before he looked away.
"Aww, he's so adorable," Jurnee gushed. "I want one."
"Shh," Alana shushed her. "Anyways, what'd you call for again?"
"I wanted to know if you wanted to come over to Gabe's house and help us make rainbow jell-o."
"Oh my gosh!" Jurnee squealed. I had to put a good foot between my ear and the phone at the sound. Even Gabriel raised his eyebrows at the sound. "I haven't had jell-o since that party, you know, the one you got totally sloshed at?"
"What party?" Alana asked.
I let out an annoyed sound. "Guys, we can talk about this later. Are you coming to help us or not?"
"Of course! Right, Alana?"
"But we're in our pajamas, and it's a Saturday, and I don't wanna get dressed," Alana sighed.
"Don't worry about it," I said. "Gabe and I are basically in our pajamas, too. Just come over and help us, okay?"
"Boys are such doofuses when it comes to kitchens," Alana said. Jurnee giggled in agreement.
"Funny, Gabriel said the same thing."
"We'll be there in ten. Don't mix anything without us," Jurnee said, then the call ended.
"What'd she say?" Gabe asked as soon as I slipped my phone into my pocket.
"Alana called us doofuses that basically shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen."
He made a face before glancing up at me. "Sounds a lot meaner coming from a girl's mouth, huh?"
I just laughed, pulling him against my chest and kissing the top of his head. "Trust me, kitten, you're going to realize a whole lot more about hanging out with girls today."
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Note
It's, like, impossible to hate them, isn't it? .-. They're just too...Gabrian...to hate. lol.
Anyways, yay! Evan's FINALLY going to get that doctor's appointment you all were freaking out about! So you can stop threatening to slay my head off 'cause obviously his throat was going to play a part in the story at some point and I was getting to it eventually...jeez. :L
Lastly, I'd just like to thank you all for your supportive comments, votes, and of course, reads! Today Healing Gabriel finally reached a million reads, and that's absolutely CRAZY! I honestly haven't been able to stop smiling all day; each and every one of you made a dream I never even knew I could achieve come true. So thankyouthankyouthankyouTHANKYOU so very much! I love you all, and I couldn't be more honored to have fans as dedicated as you all! <3 xx
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