I brush Gabriel’s hand away and huddle scoot around on the floor until my back touches the bed. I have no idea why Mom and Dad haven’t come running in here yet after that huge thud. They must be dead asleep, absolutely exhausted after today.
“No! Don’t touch me. You do not get to touch me,” I hiss. No point in waking them up if they’re not already pulled from the land of slumber by my big ass fall straight onto my face.
“I…I’m sorry,” Gabriel says from above me. My eyes haven’t really cleared off enough to see him. Oh, wait. Now they’re doing it. I see three fuzzy Gabriels slip into view, and all of them look very sorry indeed. And very worried. “Jesus. Your forehead.”
I raise a shaking hand to my head, and sure enough, there’s a lump there that’s so big, I understand now why people term them goose eggs. Shit. That’s going to look great tomorrow in pictures.
“I’ll get you some ice,” Gabriel says frantically. “Some frozen peas. Something.”
“No.” I hiss, shifting my hand from my forehead and giving him a big old stop sign with it. “No, just tell me what you mean. That you aren’t gay. Why did you say you were if you’re not?”
“I never actually said I was,” Gabriel reminds me gently. His tone is like butter, wrapping around me and soothing my injured pride and head. I don’t like that. I don’t want him soothing anything. “Your friend just assumed I was. He also assumed that Sebastien, the guy I was there with, was a friend. He’s not. Sebastien is my brother, and he’s gay. I was just there with him.”
“What? Oh my god. I can’t take this. I can’t even begin to process this when my brain is probably swelling inside my skull.”
“Jesus. What if it is? What if you have a concussion? I should go wake your parents up.”
“No. No! Don’t you dare wake them up!” With some effort, I manage to get to my feet and perch on the edge of the bed. I slap my hand over my head in hopes that it will stop the throbbing brutalizing my skull and everything inside it, but of course, it doesn’t help at all. “Please don’t wake them up.” I moderate my tone to sound saner. “I’m not concussed. I don’t think. Anyway, it’s the night before my sister’s wedding. Please, please, please. I don’t want to cause trouble for anyone. It’s bad enough I’ve already done all of this. I guess I deserved a good knock on the head for even letting Dean talk me into this.”
“It was his idea?’
“Yeah. Only because he knows me so well, and he’s heard me complain about a million times lately. He was just trying to help.”
“I see. That’s why he jumped to conclusions at the bar instead of taking a breath to find out the truth.”
“You could have told me.”
“I know.” Gabriel hangs his head. “I’m sorry. I wanted to. I just…I wanted to hear what you had to say, and I didn’t think I’d talk to you for more than a few minutes, but then I changed my mind. I wanted to give this a chance. I wanted to give you a chance. Wait, no. I didn’t mean it like that. Fuck. I seriously didn’t mean it like that. That sounds bad.”
“About as bad as me asking you to be my fake boyfriend because you’re supposed to be gay, and that’s supposed to be safe?” I whisper, and my voice is full of self-recrimination.
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel says again. “I just couldn’t find the right time to bring it up. I thought you would have been pissed, and it doesn’t exactly change anything. I’m still not going to do anything. You can trust me not to touch you and to respect you. And I really am sorry. Again. I never meant to hurt you or anyone else. I can see that it was really inappropriate, and I’m not someone who usually lies. Or does any of this. So, just…I’m sorry.”
He backs up a step and rests against the wall in this strange, non-threatening way that makes other spots start pounding. Oh, did I forget to mention that all his muscles are bulging and popping when he leans like that? They’re definitely bulging and popping all over the place. That cuts through the pain in my brain just fine. I need to process this. God, I wish my head would stop hurting. Maybe I do have a concussion? Do they say you shouldn’t go to sleep if you have head trauma? But I’m not tired. I’m not dizzy. I’m not nauseous. And I’m not confused. I don’t think. Whatever confusion I do feel is natural because I’ve worked myself into what some spider enthusiasts would probably term a real sticky web.