“Yeah, sweetheart, we can.” I folded the blanket around her legs and pushed her wheelchair out of the room, knowing full well that I was choosing the wrong path — with every step I took.
Chapter One
Sad moment officially gone, just please, for the love of God, get a room —Gabe H
Gabe
Middle of Spring Semester
“Focus, Kiersten.” I snapped my fingers in front of her face. “Stages of mitosis. Go.”
We’d been sitting at the local Starbucks all morning. The smell of ground coffee was beginning to make me sick — I had nobody to blame but myself. Apparently ground coffee is what a new leaf smelled like. And I’d officially turned one over.
Kierten’s eyes darted to the textbook. I scooted it away and waited patiently, folding my hands on the table.
Her mouth dropped open to answer, a blank stare followed and then a groan. “G-a-a-a-a-be.” She smiled. “Can’t we take a coffee break? Please?”
“Don’t stick out your lower lip.”
She stuck it out anyway.
“Kiersten…” I warned.
“Please!” She gripped my hands in hers and pouted some more.
I gave in with a heavy sigh — you know, to show that I wasn’t happy about giving in to her demands even though that’s how it always was with our friendship. She said jump and I said where, how high, how long, and how fast can I do your bidding? “Fine, we’ll take a coffee break.”
“Yes!” She slammed the book shut. “My turn to treat.” Her ridiculously cute smile made me laugh. Hell, she always made me laugh, and I so needed to laugh at this point in my life. Besides, if I didn’t laugh I was pretty sure I’d break down sobbing and the last thing the world needed was for me to suddenly make sure everyone was aware that I had feelings.
Damn, I didn’t even want to be aware.
“Nope.” I waved her off then had to physically restrain her from hopping off toward the counter. “I got it. Plus, Wes would kill me if he knew I made you pay for your own coffee.”
“You guys spoil me too much.” She sat back against her chair and crossed her arms. “You’re going to have to let me go soon, Gabe. Both you and Wolf,” she said, using Wes’s nickname. “I can’t live in your protective bubble forever.” She yawned and accidently hit her hand on the wall beside her.
“Aw, little Lamb,” I teased, using Wes’s nickname for her. “Get a boo-boo?”
“Shut it.”
“I’ll just go get your coffee.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You do that, Turtle.”
If she was a dude, I would have flipped her off. Instead, I laughed and walked away.
I’d been making fun of her and Wes’s nicknames for each other — Lamb and Wolf — and in return had been gifted with one of my own, on account of my idiot cousin, Lisa, deciding to tell them the story about how I’d had a pet turtle when I was little and had cried when it died.
But come on! That turtle was bad ass! I had a freaking funeral for the little guy — I full on wept.
Not a proud moment.
“The usual?” I called back.
She folded her hands in front of her like she was praying and shouted, “Please!”
With a smile I turned around and went to stand in line — trying to look casual, easy-going, normal. Ha! Funny how I used to actually practice being normal.
I’d looked in the mirror and had to tell myself to visibly relax my lips, shoulders, muscles. I had to own the look because things had been crazy for so long — and apparently I had a certain way of walking that made people recognize me. Who knew, right? At any rate, I was a bad ass ninja master of disguise, and it wasn’t just my life that depended on it, but hers as well.