CHAPTER 13
In Too Deep
Gabriela
The next two weeks trickled by expeditiously.
Mamma and Neal, boyfriend number sixteen, broke up.
He ended it with her via text message like a total asshat.
She was currently sulking and Papà walked around with his chest puffed out like a self-satisfied, arrogant man who’d conspired with the universe to get exactly what he wanted.
I wouldn’t put it past him to not only get on his knees and beg God to free his ex-wife from the shackles of a younger man, but also threaten the men she dated to help speed up the process.
Enzo Bellafiore was relentless in his pursuit when he wanted something, and the truth was that he never stopped wanting his Lucia.
He wouldn’t rest until he made her his again.
My guard, Oscar, still followed me around everywhere like a shadow.
I often checked over my shoulders wherever I went, worried that the culprit who’d vandalized my apartment lurked close by.
We were nowhere near finding them. But thankfully, there hadn’t been another disturbance since that first one.
I was beginning to wonder if someone played a one-time prank just to scare me.
Or if that said someone had gotten the wrong home.
Eventually, I also gathered the courage to tell my parents about the real reason for Franco’s and my breakup, including the fact that he was conveniently back in Montardor after all these years. They were livid.
“Say the word and I’ll lodge a bullet into his skull, Gabriela,” Papà had offered, fuming. “No one is allowed to hurt my daughter.”
“No.” I’d shaken my head, pleading. “I don’t want that.”
I deemed it better for Franco to live with the guilt of his actions.
He’d always been the kind of person to act like nothing bothered him, while internally detonating.
I had an inkling that how he treated me secretly haunted him.
However, if Franco really was behind the break-in, all bets were off.
I wouldn’t stop Papà. He’d have free rein to do as he pleased with my ex-boyfriend.
Academically speaking, things were progressing without a hiccup.
Despite the stress of the situation that should have mentally crippled me, I persevered, staying on top of my game.
All my readings, assignments, and class projects were completed in a timely manner.
Nor did I miss a single WIB student association meeting, always present with my notes and financial projections.
We were all set for our mixer in a few days and halfway done with the preparations for our next event, a networking affair featuring respected panellists from behemoth firms.
I also saw Anna and Layla often. We sometimes carpooled and they hung out with me if we had a mutual break on campus, rarely leaving me alone.
And if they couldn’t be next to me physically, they were constantly populating the group chat with texts, demanding I provide updates on my whereabouts every hour.
I appreciated their concern and support more than I could convey in words.
With every passing day, the sunken claws of paranoia retracted from my pierced skin and I felt like I could breathe a little bit better. I continued marching through my day-to-day with more confidence in my step, knowing I was well-protected and surrounded by people who cared for me.
And then there was Hunter.
Regardless of his busy schedule, he sought me out whenever possible, under the guise of ensuring that I wasn’t alone, even though Oscar always hung nearby. But deep down, I knew it was because he wanted to be around me. The same way I wanted to be around him.
On Mondays, he drove me to school and bought me a mocha and chocolate-dipped donuts.
In return, I gave him roses from my garden.
Sometimes one, sometimes two, sometimes three.
They always seemed to make his day a bit brighter, his entire demeanour coming to life as though he was anticipating receiving them all week.
One of the most endearing qualities he possessed was wanting to preserve the blooms, like he was a man who cherished any gift. No matter how small and trivial.
“This is my favourite part of Monday,” he’d said last time, placing the bouquet in his car’s cup holder.
I’d put on my seatbelt. “Receiving flowers?”
Hunter had shaken his head, confessing in a raspy tone, “Seeing you.”
My heart had clenched inside my chest.
He’d traced the blush on my cheeks with the back of one knuckle before skimming a strand of my hair behind my ear.
Unable to stop myself, I’d also confessed, “Mine too.”
On Tuesday and Thursdays, he always drove me back to my parents’ home, even if he had to stay behind after his classes and football practices ended.
“You know you don’t have to wait after me,” I’d told him, playing with the ends of his hair as he parked his car in the driveway. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”
The brief glance he cast me practically said nothing is more important to me than you.
My breath hitched when he caught my wrist and placed a butterfly-soft kiss on my fluttering pulse. “Though you have Oscar, I’ll sleep better if I drive you myself and see you enter the house, Gabby. Let me keep doing this for you. If not for your sake, then mine.”
My goodness. He was extremely sweet and I could never deny him when he implored in such a gentle tone.
On Wednesdays during our break, we worked on our weekly Horror & Cult Classic Cinema assignments. Hunter still held my hand during class, but he was less jumpy and more engaged, actually beginning to enjoy the films.
One particular weekday evening, in the midst of painting my toenails, I’d gotten a text from him. It was a list of the top ten scariest movies in the last decade.
Do you want to watch these with me? —Hunter
We can have a movie night at my place sometime soon. —Hunter
I was so proud that he’d overcome his previous aversion to this genre. In fact, I liked how much he looked forward to our weekly class. For those three hours, we were sucked into another world, passing messages through my notebook, eating treats, and holding hands while watching a horror flick.
I capped my red nail polish and texted him back.
Yes, I’d love that! —Gabby
Will you let me hold your hand? —Hunter
Hunter had held my hand figuratively and literally since the moment we met on the terrace, helping me, driving me, being there for me in any capacity…and it was only fair I returned the favour.
Of course, pretty boy. – Gabby
What are you up to right now? —Gabby
I’d seen him a handful of hours ago, but I still missed him. Oscar drove me back home today and I listened to songs from Hunter’s playlist to keep me company in his stead.
Icing my shoulder again. Practice was rough. —Hunter
He attached a picture of an ice pack sitting over his broad shoulder.
You? —Hunter
I hope your shoulder feels better soon! —Gabby
And I just finished doing my nails. —Gabby
I sent him a picture of my sparkly crimson toes.
Free feet pics in this economy? I’m a lucky man. —Hunter
I chuffed out a laugh, loving his humour. Luna sidled up next to me on the floor, peering at my phone screen as I typed a text. Like she just knew it was her Hunter on the other end.
You’re right. How foolish of me. That’ll be $100. —Gabby
Less than a minute later, my phone pinged with an email notification, an automatic deposit into my bank account of exactly one hundred dollars by Hunter.
I sputtered, eyes widening in disbelief.
OMG, I was kidding!!! —Gabby
I’m not. —Hunter
Next time, I want to see your toes painted black. —Hunter
Just like your soul. —Hunter
God, help me. I adored our banter and flirty text messages.
Your wish is my command —Gabby
Also, Luna says hi! —Gabby
I sent him a selfie of Luna and me.
Look at that. It’s my favourite girls. —Hunter
My favourite girls. There weren’t enough words to encompass what I was feeling in this moment. I responded with another selfie, this time a closeup of Luna’s adorable face, and replied:
She says you’re our favourite too. —Gabby
And on the weekends, if I wasn’t hanging out with the girls, Hunter and I went on walks along the canal with Luna. That was when I learned he’d started listening to true crime podcasts and reading paranormal romances.
“Are you serious?” I’d asked him, surprised, while he fed Luna a cat treat.
He’d sent me an assessing look. “Why would I lie to you?”
It was true. He had no reason to. “Which podcast are you listening to?”
He’d told me and I’d brightened. It was the same one I’d been listening to as well.
“And what romance book are you currently reading?”
His mouth had formed into a teasing smile. “That’s a secret for now.”
My ex-boyfriend belittled and made fun of my hobbies and interests, choosing to keep me subdued so he felt better about the fact that he had little to none outside of soccer. And here was Hunter, choosing to embrace my passions in hopes of better understanding me.
The affection I felt for Hunter continued to grow on a daily basis. I knew I was screwed when I started keeping track of time based on when I last saw him and when I would see him again. Never in my life had I felt this way for another person.
Only Hunter.
Anna and Layla reminded me that it was okay to harbour a crush on him and break my own self-imposed rules, yet I still had my reservations.
But regardless of trying to keep him at arm’s length, I was failing drastically when all I wanted was to be near him.
Hunter made it so hard to stay away from him and keep things platonic.
He made me laugh. He made me smile. He made me feel safe.
I was a needy girl and he filled a void inside of me, whether he realized it or not.
This man tumbled into my life during a dark period and helped me weather the storm.
He was steady and solid, like a lighthouse providing me shelter in a tumultuous sea that was threatening to consume me whole.
I craved his presence in ways I was only now beginning to acknowledge.
And it scared me.
For all my inability to be alone, the thought of being tethered to someone after the last one cut me to shreds was a frightening thought. Even though I knew Hunter would never willingly hurt me.
When Hunter pulled up into my driveway, my mood lifted.
When Hunter texted or called me, my grin was enormous.
When Hunter’s hand threaded with mine during our walks and classes, it was like a shot of gold rushing through my veins.
When he was next to me, I was happy. And when he wasn’t next to me, I was less happy.
He was like the sun and I flourished under his warmth.
There was a part of me that looked forward to seeing how this connection of ours would blossom and another part of me that worried that my past would catch up to me and ruin everything.
The night before the mixer, I got a text from Hunter just as I turned off the lights in my room and settled under the covers.
Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, doll. —Hunter
It wasn’t the first time he’d told me that he couldn’t wait to see me, but it was the first time strong anticipation built inside of me, like the moment before a flurry of fireworks.
I feared that if we ever lost this friendship, I’d slowly wither away.
And with that thought running in my mind, in the darkness of my room, broken by a wedge of light seeping through my parted curtains from a full moon similar to the one from the night on the terrace, I texted him back two words:
Me too —Gabby