I woke up when Gabe tried to disentangle himself from me, his movements as slow and delicate as humanly possible.
I froze and that was probably what clued him in to the fact that I was awake.
"Hey, Isis."
To say I was mortified would be the understatement of the year. I covered my face with both my hands, but Gabe pried them away gently.
He was grinning and I wished he didn't look this good in the morning. His hair had grown quite a bit since the last time I'd seen him –I only noticed now that I was no longer drunk –and it fell into his face slightly, the dark strands looking more like satin than ever. He was backlit by the sunlight pouring in through his window, his whole body edged in golden light. All I could do was to look at him, awed.
He looked like a perfume ad.
"Isis, relax. It's fine, I promise."
"I'm so, so, sorry Gabe. I was drunk, I wasn't thinking straight."
"It's all right. Don't make it weird. It's only weird if you make it weird."
I huffed.
He cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. I was pretty sure I glowed red.
"If you want me to, I can forget yesterday night ever happened. It changes nothing between us, alright? So just stop and come down with me for breakfast."
I knew he meant well –he was trying to make me comfortable –but the fact that he dismissed last night so easily, as if truly nothing had happened, made my heart constrict.
He got off the bed, and to my utter dismay, put on a white tee. It was worn thin from use and I could just barely see the outlines of his tattoos through it.
I hesitated for just another moment before I followed him downstairs and into the kitchen.
"What are you making?"
"Pancakes."
He pulled out a skillet, a mixing bowl and all the ingredients, lining everything up on the marble counter.
I'd forgotten how much I liked his kitchen. Compared to Alexei, it was so warm and homey –his whole apartment looked lived in. There were traces of him everywhere –whether it was the open book lying face down on the small kitchen table, or the jacket thrown over the back of a chair, it made the place feel real, not like a model house from some home deco magazine.
"My mom used to make the best pancakes. I never got around to asking her for the recipe. Mine are mediocre."
"I've had some pretty positive feedback about mine," he said with a smile over his shoulder at me. "I'd say that if you've never fucked me, the experiences are pretty similar, pleasure-wise."
He winked at me then, and my whole body ignited. It was as if he knew exactly what to say, and how to say it, to get a reaction out of me. Everything about him, the inflection of his voice, the lopsided grin seemed designed to get a reaction out of me. Even the way he moved, so precise and confident, made my belly clench deliciously.
"What's wrong with your pancakes anyway?" he asked.
I sighed. "I swear, my mom's pancakes were so fluffy. It was like eating clouds. Mine are always so thick. Ugh."
"Come here and watch, then. Learn from the master himself."
I stood next to him, watched him expertly mix the ingredients together, squealing as blew some flour onto my face, ducking when he pretended to throw some egg yolk my way. It truly felt as though nothing had happened between us, as though last night was some sort of fever dream my drunken mind had conjured up.
I almost let myself believe that.
"The trick is to not overmix the batter," he pointed out, stirring it delicately. "It doesn't matter if there are some lumps of flour left." He poured the batter onto the sizzling butter on the pan, and, after a while, flipped the pancake onto its other side with the ease of a chef.
Another moment passed, and then he dropped the perfectly golden pancake onto a plate, cut of a small chunk of it, speared it with a fork and brought it to my lips.
I tried not to overthink every single one of his gestures, but it was hard when he was acting so sweet –making me breakfast, sharing his recipes, smiling that rare genuine grin of his.
I let the pancake dissolve on my tongue and closed my eyes, suddenly transported to our own small kitchen, sitting at our round wooden table on a cloudy, moody Sunday morning, my mother at the stove, the scent of chocolate chip pancakes wafting in the air. My eyes filled with tears –yet I wasn't sad, not exactly. I was filled with longing for that time, so much simpler, so filled with the best kind of happiness –the one you are unaware of until it's slips from between your fingers and you can only wish you'd enjoyed it more, held on a little bit tighter.
I opened my eyes and found Gabriel watching me with a slightly wary expression. "You ok? I know my pancakes are good, but it looked like you were having an out of body experience right there," he waved his fork in my direction.
"I'm good," I said with a half-hearted smile. "I'm just feeling nostalgic. I haven't tasted pancakes this good since my mom's."
Gabe's face softened, his eyes more tender, his chin propped up in the palm of his hand. It was in moments like these, with the sun pouring in through the bay windows, softening his features, that I was prone to forget who he really was, what he was capable of.
I could watch him for hours –there were so many details to him, the tattoos twining like vines along his arms, intricate and lovely, his dark eyes glinting in the sunlight, and his smile –good Lord, that smile could truly melt any girl's heart.
"So what are your plans for today?" Gabe asked, taking a bite of syrup covered pancake.
"Usually, I would go work my shift at the library, but I don't work there anymore."
"Is it because of Alexei? Because if so, I don't think you should let him get into your head like that."
"Oh, that's not it. He fired me."
Gabe's hand froze, a piece of pancake suspended midway to his mouth.
"He did what?" Gabe's hand dropped down to the table, his grip on his fork tightening.
I smiled sadly. "He fired me. After he broke up with me, he told me I no longer worked there."
Gabe's upper lip curled up. "What a fucking tool." He dropped his fork and it clattered against his plate. I winced slightly at the loud noise. "I'll help you get a new job."
I was about to thank him and decline, but I paused with my lips parted, my refusal at the tip of my tongue.
I could actually use the help. With one less source of income, I'd have to rethink my monthly budget entirely, and looking for a new job could potentially take me weeks.
"That would be great, actually. I seriously don't know how I can ever repay you for everything."
"No need." He smiled at me once more, his grin brighter than the sunlight streaming through the window.
~♠~
Honey was an adorable café in Beacon Hill, situated in between a souvenir shop and an equally adorable restaurant, La Petite Bourgogne.
Working there was pretty great, and it did help that Gabe stopped by during a couple of my shifts and brought me snacks and ridiculous tips. Everyone who came in seemed charmed by the cozy atmosphere, the brick walls covered in black and white photography, as well as the fairy lights strung across the ceiling. There were potted plants on every available surface, and in the evening, tourists took one look inside and walked in, all starry-eyed and dazed.
And yet all that was on my mind every second of every day was revenge.
I was certain that Aidan had been the one behind all the anonymous messages –why else would they have started right when Alexei had expressed any interest in me and stopped right after we broke up? Now that I was out of Alexei's life, A. dropped off the face of the earth –he'd clearly gotten what he'd wanted.
The only thing I couldn't figure out was why I'd bothered Aidan so much in the first place. And no matter how many times I tried to solve that puzzle, I always came to the one conclusion: it didn't really matter much, truthfully. All I wanted was to see him suffer, the way I had for months.
But revenge was so elusive –how could I ever hurt someone who had everything when in comparison, I had nothing? When I knew nothing about him, nothing about his weaknesses or strengths, and had no way of ever learning anything about him, now that I was completely shut out of their golden palace? Ever since the day of our infamous break-up, I hadn't seen or heard anything from Alexei, or any of his friends.
In between my two jobs, I lost myself in preparation for my finals and chores, which I completed almost obsessively. I scrubbed and polished and organized everything almost compulsively, sometimes until way past midnight, trying to forget myself and everything about my life.
Every other wakeful moment of my days I spent obsessing over Aidan. My anger and hatred fermented inside me, growing uglier and rooting deeper every day. I could barely sleep by the end of the semester, and I got through my finals on caffeine and rage alone.
T&T, Amanda and my dad clearly noticed that I was off, but they didn't push me, never prodded. I was grateful for this small mercy. Most days, I felt on the brink of exploding, every single emotion I'd bottled up ready to spill from me and it wouldn't take much for me to finally give.
It was no surprise when my semester project didn't get selected to be exposed at the art gallery. The winner was some girl in my class –I didn't bother remembering her name and couldn't even look at her paintings.
It was one of my worst days yet. During lunch break, I hid in the bathroom, crying silently for an hour, curled up into myself on the lid of a toilet, disgust at myself eating at me from the inside like acid.
It was no wonder Alexei had left me and Gabriel didn't want me. I would never be good enough –not for Alexei, not for my major and definitely not for Gabriel. Every time I thought of our kiss, my stomach twisted into tight knots –he'd probably kissed me back strictly out of pity. After all, I'd just gotten dumped, my best friends' mother had just been diagnosed with cancer and he'd probably figured the last thing I needed was to get rejected –again.
God, I was pathetic.
I must've looked awful when I arrived at Honey, because when Anthony –the owner, who coincidentally happened to be Dominic's cousin –saw me, his eyes widened and he gave me the night off, telling me to go sleep it off, catch a movie or something, probably chalking it up to my finals.
I tried to convince him that I was fine and perfectly capable of working my shift, but he would have none of it, and put me on paid leave for the evening.
I walked out of Honey filled with nervous energy, and I didn't know what to do with myself. I needed to get my hands on something, to do something. I thought about going home and cleaning or cooking up some dinner, but after Tina caught me scrubbing the bathtub at 2AM last Saturday when she returned from her date with Cameron, she'd threatened me with physical violence if she saw me doing anything chore related during the next week.
I stood in the street, watching traffic go by for a moment. I was at a loss now that I had nothing to do and nowhere to be. My semester at uni was over and I was free for the next three months, I'd cooked meals for the next week, I'd cleaned both T&T's and my father's apartments and now, I was stuck with myself and everything that had been brewing in my mind.
Instead of bursting into tears for the third time that day (because, yes, I'd also cried in the bus on my way to work), I hopped into another bus, making an impromptu decision I hoped I wouldn't regret.
~♠~
Gabe's eyebrows drew together in worry when he saw me. Just the sight of him almost made me sob –I hadn't seen him for two weeks, and somehow managed to make myself forget how absolutely gorgeous he was.
He wore a partially opened black Hawaiian shirt, covered in a print of pink flowers and palm leaves. His black pants that fit him so well they looked as though they'd been tailored for him.
I wanted to run my hands through his already slightly disheveled hair, wanted to wrap my arms around him and press a kiss into the hollow of his throat, but instead of doing that, I wrung my hands nervously.
"Hey. I know this is going to sound weird, but could I clean your apartment? You look like you're going out and that's even better, to be honest. You can just go and I'll just vacuum, mop the floor, wash your dishes and stuff, you know."
Gabe closed his eyes for a moment, looking incredulous. "Just come in."
I didn't move, my hands still clenched together.
"I'm not going to make you clean my apartment," he said calmly, when I made no move to enter.
My cheeks flamed. "I know I sound crazy. It's just relaxing to me. It takes my mind off of things. Sorry to have bothered you." I backed away, ready to go away, regretting I'd even stopped by in the first place.
He grabbed my wrist. "I'm not kicking you out. I'm just saying that there's no way I'm making you clean my apartment."
"You're not making me do anything... I offered to do it," I said tentatively.
Gabe let me go and gazed heavenward, as if looking to some higher power to grant him patience.
"Isis, you're not cleaning anything tonight, end of story. I'm going out with some friends and you're coming with us."
I backed away once more. "Thank you, but I'll pass."
I didn't want to be the third-wheel, the forever inadequate, awkward, last-minute add-on to his plans. It's not like he would've invited me if I hadn't showed up at his doorstep. And this wasn't what I'd wanted –now that I was here, I realised that the odds he would've accepted my proposal in the first place were abysmal. The fact that I'd thought he might agree was, more than anything else, a perfect representation of my current state of mind.
"I'm really going to go. Thanks for... uh... the invitation. Maybe another time?"
I kept inching towards further away down the hallway, my eyes fixed on the black marble tiles.
"Please come with me." His voice had lowered slightly and my gaze snapped back up to him.
The intensity burning in his eyes made a shiver slither down my spine.
He took another step towards me; I stood rooted to the spot. The air between us was thick, crackling with electricity, not unlike a thunderstorm. In the dimness of the hallway, his face was partially bathed in shadows, all angles and smooth skin.
"Okay," I breathed and he rewarded me with a smile brighter than the sun, grabbed both of my forearms and pulled me inside.
"Oh, hey there." The voice came from upstairs, and my head snapped up.
The girl leaned over the railing of the mezzanine floor, gazing down at me curiously. Her multitude of thin braids was tied into a high ponytail and she wore a black, sleeveless crop top, with wide-legged black mesh pants along with a wicked pair of high heels. I'd seen her here before, but never looking like this –her beauty was almost ethereal tonight, her skin glowing, her eyes alight and lined with black-making them look bottomless.
She moved so fluidly as she descended the staircase, the golden jewellery accenting her outfit twinkling like stars in the night sky, her hips swaying like those of a dancer, and Gabe's eyes followed her movement with rapture.
The moment between Gabe and me was over as fast as it had begun, the spotlight redirected on her. I looked down at my own outfit –a black hoodie with a pair of jean shorts I'd cut myself –and sighed heavily, feeling a twinge of envy deep in my gut.
"I can't go dressed like this. I think I'll take a rain check on tonight."
Gabe waved his hand dismissively. "Maya can lend you something. Half her closet is here anyway."
I felt another pang at the bottom of my belly –what claim did she have on him, for her clothes to be at his apartment as though she was a permanent fixture here?
"Come with me, I have a couple dresses that would do. They'll probably be shorter on you," –even with her heels, she was a whole head and a half smaller than me –"but that's not a bad thing, is it?" She smiled a cat-like smile and took my hand to guide me up the metal staircase.
Half an hour later, I was sitting in the backseat of a cab with Gabe pressed up against my right side, his arm carelessly slung over the back of the seat, his fingers distractedly stroking my bare shoulder as he spoke to Johnny (the "shoot first, ask question last" fellow), who sat in the front seat. Maya was seated on his other side, absorbed by something on her cellphone.
With each brush of his fingertips against my skin I had to repress a shiver. I wore a dress that didn't leave much to the imagination –a plunging décolleté, almost indecently short, made of a dark turquoise satin-like material, suspended by thin spaghetti straps, leaving half of my back exposed. Luckily, I'd been wearing strappy flat sandals, and so my shoes didn't clash with my outfit too much.
The evening was uncharacteristically warm for early May, so I wasn't cold, but I felt very exposed.
It turned out I blended well into the masses once we arrived. It was a competition. Who could show the most skin, whose dress hugged their body better –and I wasn't one of the frontrunners. Gabe led our small group, past the line that had formed outside the big, industrial building. As soon as the bouncer saw him, he untied the rope blocking the entrance and let us in. Gabe clapped him on the back and that was it –we were inside.
The club was pretty standard - dark atmosphere, packed full with gyrating bodies, their skin glistening with sweat, their eyes half-lidded.
As soon as we were inside, Maya slipped into the mass of dancers, her body moving as though she was one with the music. She was hypnotizing and I wasn't the only one who noticed. Gabe's eyes followed her, unreadable, but instead of diving in after her, he made his way to the bar, followed closely by Johnny. I was way too sober to dance and so I slipped into the crowd after them, resigned.
I leaned against the glass topped bar, and Johnny turned to me –he hadn't said one word to me up until then except for his grumbled greeting, so I was a bit surprised to see the sheepish expression on his face. "What would you like to drink? Tonight's on me. you know, I hope you can forgive me for the way we met a few months ago."
"Uh, I'll take a mojito. And you're forgiven. Just don't ever try to shoot me again and we'll be good."
Johnny smiled a surprisingly warm grin and ordered our drinks while Gabe downed five shots in a row. Once he was done, he plunged into the crowd once more, until he was next to Maya and they started dancing together, their bodies pressed against one another, mesmerizing.
Johnny stayed behind with me, leaning against the bar, as I tried very hard not to stare at the two of them.
We chatted about everything and nothing, and he ordered me another mojito, and then a sex on the beach, followed by a beer. The more I drank, the less I tried to hide the fact that I was openly staring at Maya and Gabe –people had left them a considerable amount of space considering the tightly packed dance floor, and I wasn't the only one staring. They'd attracted the attention of most people around them.
The more I drank, the more resigned I became. Obviously, my kiss with Gabe had been a fluke for him. This –him and Maya, the way they fit together perfectly, their bodies moving in perfect sync –was more logical. They were both insanely attractive, they had miles and miles of common history and she probably didn't unload all of her emotional baggage on him every time they met.
I finally turned away –it was no use, torturing myself like that.
"I'm probably boring you," I told Johnny. "Don't look right now, but that girl at the other end of the bar," –he looked anyway, "has been staring at you for the last twenty minutes."
He grinned at her and she bit her lower lip, and I nearly rolled my eyes.
"Just go." I gave him a small push in her direction.
"You sure? I don't want to leave you alone..."
This time, I really rolled my eyes. "I'm a big girl. I'll be fine. Go."
He gave me one last uncertain look, but I crossed my arms over my chest and widened my eyes at him, tipping my chin in the curvy brunette's direction.
He finally made his way towards her and she grinned up at him, her eyes nearly glowing.
I turned away with a small smile, downed the rest of my beer. After taking a deep breath, I dove straight into the dancing crowd.
I wasn't sure where I was going, exactly, but when I saw a flash of familiar golden curls in the crowd, my heart almost jumped out of my chest.
I stopped dead in my tracks, and when I spotted Aidan, next to a tall guy with his back to me, his hair an artful mess of blonde curls, I took a brusque step back, stepping on someone's foot and eliciting a yelled insult. Aidan stood with his back to me, but his face was in profile –I'd imagined killing him in so many ways over the last couple of weeks that I would've recognized him anywhere. I muttered an apology and twirled around, elbowing my way through the crowd, not caring about who stood in my way. I reached one edge of the club, leaned against the brick wall for a moment, trying to calm down.
There was a cordoned-off staircase nearby and so I climbed over the thick black rope and made my way up two stairs at a time. By the time I reached the door at the top, I was out of breath, my heart pounding frantically, my palms sweaty. I recited a quick prayer as I reached for the doorknob and thanked the heavens when it gave way.
I felt a drift of fresh air and didn't hesitate before I stepped out onto the roof.
There was a pool there, with lounge chairs neatly arranged around it. A tall glass fence edged the entire space, and below, the Boston river flowed peacefully. The booming music was still pretty loud even out here, but there was a tranquility to the place that calmed me down a bit.
And here, I was alone –finally. Blissfully, deliciously alone.
I made my way around the blue-lit pool and took a seat on the edge of one of the lounge chairs, staring into the still water, willing myself not to cry.
Just then, I heard the door I'd walked through open and jumped to my feet, my heart in my throat.
Gabe slipped through, and closed the door behind his back. He leaned against it for a moment, just looking at me, his eyes completely indecipherable.
"I saw you coming up here and then I saw Alexei," he said calmly. "I figured you could use some company."
He slowly walked closer. I didn't sit back down.
He stopped when he was only a step away from me, his eyes searching my face. He looked ethereal with his face bathed in the dim blue light that emanated from the pool. Another few buttons of his shirt had come undone, and I could see the better part of his tattoos. I had to forcibly stop myself from reaching out and tracing the black lines with my fingers.
"Did you love him?" His voice was low and it sent a shiver down my spine.
I was so focused on him, on his proximity, that it took me a moment to register his question.
"I-I don't think so," I whispered. "I think I could've, but I never let myself. I always knew it wouldn't last, deep down."
He tilted his head to the side. "How did you know that?"
I barked out a dry laugh. "Come on. Have you seen him? He is way out of my league." I looked deeply into his eyes as I swallowed my next words. And so are you.
His eyes seemed to darken. He took me by my shoulders, whirled me around and marched me to one edge of the roof, until I stood face to face with my own reflection in the glass fence.
He stood so close behind me that I could feel the warmth emanating from his body, feel his breaths against my ear. And the things I saw in his eyes, reflected back at me, made me shiver. There was something primal there, something dark and lustful. My breaths quickened.
"Look at you," he breathed softly. His hands found my hips, and one travelled up slowly, lusciously. "You're beautiful. You fucking drive me wild."
My eyes followed the slow ascension of his hand up my side and I gasped when it reached the side of one of my breasts. He cupped it gently, and pressed his lips against my ear. "All I could think about tonight is you. In this dress that's barely even there. How easy it'd be to get it off. How the only place where I want to be right now is in between your legs."
His other hand inched from my hip to the front of my thigh and I leaned against him, my legs feeling weak. My breaths came in quickened, short gasps and I could feel a slow, steady pulse in between my thighs.
His touch trailed to the inside of my thigh, feather light, and I moaned softly when he grasped the skin there. He pressed a soft kiss against my neck, right at the pulse point, and smiled at the frantic beats of my heart.
"Did he ever make you feel this way?" he asked.
I shook my head, unable to speak. The hand that rested at the inside of my thigh moved higher, my dress hiking up in its wake, like a dark, turquoise sea parting for his touch.
I stared at my reflection, wild-eyed, lips parted, cheeks flushed –the pure image of rapture. He looked sinful, holding me against him, making me a prisoner of my own desire, his dark eyes meeting mine in our joined reflection.
I closed my eyes when his hand reached the part of me that ached for his touch the most, as he pressed the palm of his hand in between my thighs, rubbing back and forth slowly. I grasped his hand, urging him to move harder as I trembled against him, my legs barely holding me up.
"So whenever you see him, I want you to think about me," he said and gently bit my earlobe. "Every time you lay your eyes on him, I want you to feel me," he breathed as his fingers pushed the crotch of my panties aside, his skin directly against my flesh. "Inside you." He pushed one finger into me, slowly, deliberately.
"Gabe," I moaned, my head tipped back onto his shoulder, my other hand reaching for the nape of his neck, grasping at the feather-soft hair there, my back arching almost painfully.
A second finger joined the first one and he moved them gently back and forth, while his thumb rubbed in tantalizing circles against that sweet, sweet spot. I lost myself in that motion, focused solely on his rhythm, forgetting everything but my body pressed against his, his fingers inside me, his mouth on my neck, teeth grazing my skin.
He wound me up so tight I thought I might just turn to stone, but when the release came, at last –like a burst of electricity in my veins that I felt from my scalp to the very tip of my toes, that traveled through me in one, long shudder – I all but melted against him, my breaths ragged, my body soft and supple.
He turned me around and pushed me against the glass, his mouth finding mine, his hands squeezing my behind harshly, giving me one long, heart-stopping kiss. I could feel exactly how much he wanted me, but more than that, there was something in that kiss, a promise of more, like a secret passing from his lips to mine, a taste of all the things yet to come.
I was positively ravaged when he pulled away.
He backed away slowly, smiling a savage grin at me as he slipped the two fingers that had just been inside me into his mouth, closing his eyes as he tasted me.
And then he turned away and was gone.