Gabriel
This can't be good. This can't be good. This can't be good.
I'm pacing in my bedroom, delaying sneaking down the hallway and into Seth's room for 'the talk' for as long as I can.
There’s no way this ends well, because when has “we need to talk” ever led to anything good?
Seth has been off his game ever since we got back from watching étienne compete, and I think I know why.
Playing a role on a TV show is one thing, lying to people's faces that we're happily together is another.
That interaction we had with Darlene was too much for him, and I bet he wants to discuss calling off our showmance entirely.
And I have a sinking feeling he may want to end our off-screen arrangement at the same time, too.
"Just breathe," I mutter to my reflection in the mirror. "Whatever happens, you'll be fine." I won't be, but it's better than verbalizing the alternative. No point delaying it. "Might as well get it over and done with."
I've snuck down this corridor countless times. Blaine and Keegan are down the far end, then it's me and Scooter's old room. I think the director is lodging the night in one of the vacant rooms since the shoot ran late. Then it's Seth and what used to be Cabot's room closest to the staircase.
I hurry down the hallway quietly, open the door, slip in, and gasp—
"What's all this?" I ask.
Seth steps into the candlelit room from the en suite. Rose petals cover the bed and carpet, and he's looking handsome as hell in an old T-shirt and low-slung sweats with his hair falling forward over his forehead.
"I invited you over to talk, remember?" he says, his eyes sparkling in the warm glow of the candles.
"I do. But…" I wave my hand around. "This?"
He grins and strides over to me all confident and sexy. Hardly the demeanor of a guy about to fake break up with me.
I think?
"Hello." He cups my face and brings his lips to mine.
"Hi," I murmur, my stomach still buzzing with nerves and the yucky feeling of not liking not knowing what's happening.
"Want some bubbles?"
"Actually, no. I'd just like to know what's going on."
He smiles because he mistakenly thinks I'm kidding around. When he pulls back a little and sees that I'm not, the smile vanishes.
"Wait. You're worried?"
"Of course I'm worried. You've been acting weird ever since we got back from the skydiving competition, and then you summon me into your room to 'talk.' That can never be a good thing."
"I'm such an idiot," he says, wincing. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to stress you out. This isn't a bad talk. I promise."
"Okay. So…what is it?"