I swallowed around the lump in my throat, overcome with pride and admiration for him. I felt his pain and his strength as though he’d handed them to me for safekeeping for a moment. He’d left himself open and raw and in that instant, I felt closer to him than anyone else on the planet.
“You’re going to be the best, Gabe.”
He reached out to lower my sunglasses and then his own. “So are you. Kiss me.”
“Here?”
“Yeah. Right here, right now.”
I leaned in and brought my lips close to his. It was a featherlight connection, like we were both holding our breaths and waiting for a sign to commemorate something new and significant between us. Then Gabe closed his eyes and gently molded his lips to mine. Neither of us moved for a long moment. We just breathed and listened and let ourselves become that something new.
But when I licked the corner of his mouth, everything changed in a flash. Gabe cradled my face and pushed his tongue inside in a passionate, demanding kiss that left me feeling blissed out and slightly intoxicated. I let out an awkward laugh and rested my forehead against his.
“That wasn’t a quick kiss. Anyone can see us,” I hummed, not bothering to move away.
“I should probably care, but I don’t. Come home with me, or I’ll come home with you. I just…I want you, Der.”
I backed up, then and studied him for a moment before nodding. “Yes. Let’s go.”
Evan pulled up in front of the house just as we hopped off our bikes and deposited them in the garage. Gabe plucked his backpack from the basket and hooked his thumb toward the street.
“My place.”
“Yeah. I’ll just drop my stuff off. I should probably shower,” I said awkwardly.
“Use my shower.”
“Is it bigger?”
“No, but…” Gabe narrowed his eyes and set his hands on his hips. “Wait up. Are you going to dump me ’cause my water pressure sucks?”
I snickered at his flabbergasted expression, loving that he knew how to set me at ease with a sweet smile and a silly joke. “No. Mine sucks too. I’m just…nervous. We’re doing this, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, we are. But don’t be nervous.” He started to put his arm around me but dropped it and shoved his backpack in front of his crotch when Evan walked up the driveway. “C’mon. I’m sportin’ major wood right now. Quick good-byes, please.”
Evan greeted us with bro fist bumps and a ready grin. “How was the beach?”
“Good. Where’ve you been?” I asked.
It might have been my imagination, but he looked almost bashful when he replied. “I’m working on a school project. Double secret.”
“Oh? Tell us all about it.”
“What part of double secret didn’t you get? I’ll lose my spy card if I divulge confidential info,” Evan said with a laugh. “Are you around for dinner? I miss your lasagna, Der. And that banana bread you used to make for Amanda all the time. He put butterscotch chips in it. So good. I’m going through withdrawals. Has he cooked for you yet? He’s fuckin’ amazing.”
“Yeah, he’s a great cook. I’ve had his spaghetti and meatballs and veggie orzo but not lasagna.” Gabe replied. “You make a mean grilled cheese too, ba—Der.”
“Thanks.”
Evan quirked his brow curiously. I held my breath and waited for him to ask when I’d started breaking out my best recipes for a guy I couldn’t stand a few months ago and if he’d actually almost called me “babe.” Thankfully, Evan let it go. He headed up the path to the front door instead and motioned for us to hurry up.
“Come on. Let’s watch the game. We can order pizza or something.”
“Um…we can’t. We have an early practice. I’m gonna crash at Gabe’s and get a ride with him in the morning. My car’s been acting weird,” I lied.
He regarded me with that same curious look, then shrugged. “Oh. Okay. I’ll see ya then.”
I waited until Evan disappeared inside the house before I spoke. “I hate lying. It sucks.”
Gabe didn’t say anything. Confirmation wasn’t necessary. Secrecy wasn’t thrilling anymore. It was exhausting. And it felt dishonest. Evan deserved better from me.
Gabe’s apartment was a Spanish-style relic from the 1970s with low ceilings and vintage features that were so dated, they actually looked chic. Like the macramé wall art above the gray sectional and the bright orange spherical pendant hanging over a white plastic dining table. I didn’t get the impression the retro modern vibe was intentional, but it was cool. Best of all, he kept it relatively clean and tidy, I mused, casting my gaze around the open floor plan before setting my backpack on a dining chair.
“Want something to drink?” he asked as he headed for the galley-style kitchen adjacent to the living area. “I’m gonna order pizza. They usually deliver in ten or fifteen minutes. And yeah, I know, a salad for you. Boring vinaigrette on the side, hold the olives.”