Chapter Five
I Almost Fucked It Up Before It Even Began
Ender
I’m fucking around on my phone when I hear the apartment door open.
“Darling, I’m home.” I’ll never get tired of the singsong endearment Connor greets me with every evening. Silly, but it makes me feel slightly normal, what with never having had an actual boyfriend at twenty-eight years old to call me affectionate names.
My hopes for anything to happen between Gabe and me died rather quickly when he didn’t respect my one request. Sure, he might have been joking with me, trying to be cute, but if I can’t trust him with this, what’s to say he won’t just up and leave when it gets too hard to be around me?
He hasn’t texted or called me since I reminded him about my hard no two days ago.
He gave up before he even started—clear proof that he’s not built to deal with someone like me.
“Why are you still working, sweetie?” Connor has to remind me every night to shut down my laptop and leave my work desk, or else I’ll wind up sitting here until bedtime.
“I’m shutting down now. You want to order some food?”
“I probably shouldn’t—got a date tonight.” He waggles his eyebrows, telling me all I need to know and don’t want to know at the same time.
“Okay, I’ll find something here. Have fun, be safe.” My phone buzzes in my hand as Connor leaves with a “Toodles!” I open the app to check my messages.
I’m sorry for not respecting your one boundary set from the start.
It was disrespectful and I won’t blame you if you don’t respond.
To say I’m a little shocked is putting it mildly. I figured he’d forgotten about me by now. While I’m tempted to respond right away, I know I should wait a few minutes. I can’t make it seem like I was looking at my phone, waiting for him to contact me—that’s the last thing I want him to think.
I finish shutting down my laptop, grab a snack, and sit in my favorite spot at the end of the couch with my phone in hand, considering what to text back.
Thank you
I stall for time, not knowing how to do this—or even if I want to bother.
Does this mean I’m forgiven, or will I need to grovel on my knees?
Are you always this forward with innuendos? Do they actually work on your groupies?
Groupies?
Shit, why did I say that? Ugh, how the fuck do I explain this without seeming pathetic, like I’ve been pining over him? I haven’t been, but I couldn’t help looking.
What do you mean groupies?
Care to explain who my groupies are?
Ugh, what do I say? I can’t exactly tell him I saw the same twenty or so guys commenting on every post with peach or eggplant emojis, or flat-out propositions.
Were you stalking me on socials?
There’s no way out of this other than to confess.
I was bored last night when I couldn’t sleep, and you literally tag Luke in everything you post. How could I not have seen your minions fanning your ego every chance they get?
And why do you tag Luke in everything you post when half of it has nothing to do with him?
I try to change the subject a little, hoping he’ll forget about my not-so-accidental stalking.
Until Kaden came along, Luke had zero social life unless I dragged him out of the house. And occasionally, Jackson and Dakota could get him to hang out with them.
I started tagging him whenever I went out. I hoped it would make him want to tag along more often.
That was nice of you.
I can be nice, if given the chance.
I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t even know why he wants me to give him a chance.
Am I really that interesting to you that you’re wasting your Thursday evening texting me?
Shouldn’t you be working? Don’t you have a restaurant you’re opening soon?
Last night was a late night, so I left a little early tonight. We open on Wednesday next week.
You should come
And just to be clear, that wasn’t an innuendo.
He’s obviously watching what he says around me, and I’m annoyed at myself for making him feel like he has to.
I didn’t think it was, but thanks for clarifying.
Attempting to not be presumptuous again. Is it okay if I call you?
Within seconds of responding with my number, my phone vibrates with an incoming call. I answer with a gust of breath leaving my lungs in a whoosh.
“You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“Why would I want to?” His tone is playful, and it sounds like he’s talking through a smile. I wonder if it’s the same one from the other night—remembering that moment has my pulse speeding up.
“Your flirting isn’t going to turn me into one of your fanboys, if that’s your goal.” I make a show of resisting, even as my heart flutters against my ribcage.
“What makes you think that’s what I want from you?” His sultry purr is almost drowned out by a flurry of background noise.
“What’s all that noise? Sounds like there’s an earthquake over there.”
“You’re really good at avoiding questions.” His gruff laughter makes me smile on the inside. “I’m cooking dinner for myself. A guy’s got to eat, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” I mumble, ironically chewing on candy for dinner.
“So, what makes you think I want you as a fanboy? And I’m still trying to figure out who these so-called groupies-slash-minions-slash-fanboys are that you keep mentioning.”
“You’re not fooling me—you know exactly who I mean. It’s none of my business, but I won’t be joining the team.” Lies, all lies.
“Now they’re a team? Hmm, guess I should contact them and let them know they can disassemble, as they’re no longer needed or wanted.”
I aim for indifference as I shove more candy in my mouth to resist the urge to flirt back. “Whatever floats your boat.”
His deep huff is the only acknowledgment he gives me, followed by more noise in his kitchen.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?”
I hesitate. “No, not yet.”
“Would you like to join me?” I can tell he’s treading lightly, pausing slightly between words.
I consider the gesture for half a second before blurting out, “I’m staying in tonight, but thanks for the invite.
I’m actually going to make myself some food now.
” My brain tells me to shut up at the same time as my mouth extinguishes any chance of this night ending well. “Enjoy your dinner, though.”
“Umm, okay then. You, too.”
He barely gets a goodbye out before I end the call.
Candy spills across the floor as I let myself fall face-first into the couch, the throw pillow muffling my frustrated growl. My mind churns over and over, trying to answer the question that plagues me day in and day out.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’m woken by an incessant vibrating against my stomach.
Huh? When did I fall asleep?
I’m still trying to work that out as I squint at my phone screen. I’ve got three missed calls—one from Gabe and two from Kaden—and several text messages.
Did I say something to offend you earlier?
I’m not sure what it could’ve been, but it wasn’t intentional, I can assure you.
Why is he so concerned about me? He doesn’t even know me.
For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk, I understand. I’ll leave you alone.
I can’t help but trade my phone for the candy on the floor, throwing it across the room before gathering up the mess I made earlier and putting the last of my stash back in the bag.
This was my last bag, so I’ll have to go out and get more now.
I ignore the missed calls and messages, focusing on that task instead.
Driving and music is like therapy to me, and exactly what I need right now.
After picking up more candy and a drink, I drive aimlessly as I listen to my music, knowing it’s the only thing that will clear my head right now. I don’t understand why I’m sabotaging a connection that could’ve had potential, with the first person who actually reciprocated my interest in years.
It’s after 11 p.m. when I start heading back home. At a red light, I decide to take the opportunity to respond to Gabe.
You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who owes you an apology. You were the one being nice and offering me dinner. I’m the one who doesn’t know how to act right. So, I’m sorry.
I finish texting and throw my phone into the passenger seat to avoid staring at it for a response. It’s late, and he’s probably sleeping already, which is for the best because I have no idea what else I’d say to him.
I don’t get more than a mile up the road before a call rings through on my car’s connection, and Gabe’s name pops up on my display.
Two deep breaths later, I hit the answer button.
“Hey, Gabe. Sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn’t, but I wouldn’t have minded if you did.”
I try to drown out my spiraling thoughts against the roar of tires on asphalt until I’m barely aware of his presence on the other end of the line.
“Are you still there?” Gabe tries to stifle a yawn.
“Yeah, I’m here. You didn’t have to call. You could’ve texted me whatever you wanted to say.”
“Texting is so impersonal. I wanted to hear your voice, not read letters on a screen.”
He pauses, but when the seconds begin to tick by with no response from me, he realizes the ball is in his court.
“Are you in the car? Should I not have called?”
“Yes, I’m in the car, and no, it’s fine you called. I was just driving around listening to music. Had to pick up dinner.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret mentioning dinner.
“What did you wind up eating?”
“I wasn’t really that hungry, so I just picked up a snack.”
“Why does that sound like you don’t want to tell me what you ate?” I swear I can hear the frown on his face.
“Because I have a weird comfort food that everyone gives me shit about.”
Gabe is silent—probably waiting for me to elaborate—but I’m not about to tell him any more of my oddities. “You know you have to tell me now, right?” Geez, he’s like Connor, a dog with a bone—he’s not giving up easily. “So just get it over with and spill the beans.”
I don’t laugh often—it’s just how I am—but the unintended pun draws a snort of laughter out of me, confusing Gabe.
“What did I say?” His soft chuckle is a stark contrast to his typical deep tone.
“You accidentally guessed my comfort food.” I get out of my car and head into my building as he ponders over my words.
“Your comfort food is beans? Like what kind of beans? Black beans? Pinto beans? Lima beans? Green beans?” His amusement is clear as he rambles about all the types of beans I’m definitely not obsessed with.
I can’t help the way my lips turn upward in a smile.
Until I get in the elevator and lose his call mid-sentence, cursing myself for not taking the stairs the mere one flight up.
I dial his number as soon as I exit the elevator and head down the hallway.
“Which bean offended you? It was the lima beans, wasn’t it?”
The sound of my laughter bounces off the hallway walls until I remember the time, quickly stifling it before the neighbors start to complain.
“Wow, nice to hear you really laugh for the first time. I’d love to see the smile that came along with it.”
Before I could second-guess my first thought, I hit the video call button. He picks up on the first ring, his own smile stretching from ear to ear.
“Two blessings within minutes. I feel honored.”
“Don’t speak too soon—you may regret it and hangup in a minute.” I nervously huff at myself for the negative talk, opening my apartment door without taking my eyes off him.
He doesn’t respond, just stares at me with those cobalts again. It makes me feel like he sees right through me—right through this barrier I’ve built to keep people out, so they don’t hate what they find and wind up leaving anyway.
“Hi, Ender.”
That doesn’t help at all.
“Hi, Gabe,” I say softly, as I slide down onto the couch, propping the phone up against a pillow on my stomach when I lie down. I’m thankful Connor isn’t home yet.
“So, which bean owns this obsession of yours?”
Instead of telling him, I fish one of the candies out of the bag by my side to show him.
“Jelly beans? That’s what you ate for dinner?
” His mildly shocked expression and incredulous tone should make me worry, but I’m used to it.
Eating candy more often than not for my meals isn’t something that sounds normal to most people, but it’s easier than cooking for myself—and the comfort I get from it is worth more to me than nutrition. Probably.
“Yeah, I pretty much eat them all day, every day. Like I said, comfort food.”
“You turned down me cooking for you…for jelly beans? Duly noted as comfort food.”
I can’t tell whether he’s being flippant or genuinely interested. I frown, hoping he takes the hint that I’m not open to talking further about my obsession with jelly beans, so when he continues, he changes the subject.
We wind up talking for a few hours about shows we watch or books we’ve read, then switch topics to work.
He tells me more about the restaurant, his friendship with Luke, and how he’s more of a brother to him than anything else.
It’s comforting to know others have the same type of friendship as I do with Connor and Kaden.
Well, Kaden being an exception—at least in the past.
He starts getting ready for bed, and I can’t help but watch every moment of him shuffling the phone around while undressing and climbing into bed.
His skin is a luscious shade of bronze, and his chest and abs are beautiful, even without the typical six-pack that most people fawn over on guys—my body quivers just from watching him.
He’s definitely built like a house with height and broadness, but I like the fact that he’s not as chiseled under his clothes as I initially thought.
I follow suit, washing up and then changing into clean boxers. Once I’m hiding under the covers, I lift my phone off the nightstand where I placed it screen-down. I prop it up on the pillow next to me and lie on my side facing it, finding Gabe has already done the same with his.
We stare at each other for a few minutes before he finally speaks.
His voice is rough from overuse—and probably lack of sleep—when he says, “I know I’m not allowed to ask anything personal, but can you tell me something about you?
Something no one knows. Anything you want.
” His lids keep closing while I think about his request, but without fail, he opens them again, keeping them on my face.
“This is maybe not as personal as you want…” I’m terrified to finish my sentence, but something about him makes me feel like I can trust him. “But I’m scared once you get to know me, you’ll hate what you see and leave me…” Before I can finish my sentence, Gabe cuts me off.
“Impossible.” His voice is barely a whisper, fading as he loses his fight against sleep, a slight smile still on his face.
“…Like they did.” My lungs expand and contract with relief, and I’m thankful he doesn’t hear all of what I had to say.
I watch him resting until my body decides to do the same without my permission, our call still connected as we sleep, miles apart, yet side by side.