Chapter 9
ALEX
“Aleex…” Gabriel sings as he strolls off the elevator and nearly slams into me. “We arrive right on time, sí?”
He reaches for my hand and pulls me in for a hug, not missing the opportunity to throw an air kiss to each side of my face.
At least… it was supposed to be an air kiss.
But I swear to God his lips grazed my cheeks.
I swallow down my annoyance and give Gabriel a friendly pat on the back, swapping irritation for a forced smile.
I also take a quick sniff of his skin. That spicy cinnamon complements his earthy warmth, like fall leaves crushed underfoot.
I relax.
“Good to see you. Glad you guys could make it.”
Determined to enjoy the evening, I glance over Gabriel’s shoulder where his boyfriend is fumbling with a bottle of wine and what looks to be some kind of chocolate dessert. Yum.
“Would you like some help?” I offer, stepping a little closer, hoping like hell he’s less antagonistic than Gabriel. He’s smaller than I imagined—fine-boned, almost fragile—though there’s definition in his arms beneath the tight-fitting shirt.
Before I can reach him, Gabriel swoops in. “Alex, I’d like you to meet—”
Oh.
My.
God.
Noah.
My eyes drop to their entwined fingers. My smile hits the floor.
Or was that the wine?
No—definitely my smile.
Fuck.
I watch, stunned, as Gabriel lifts Noah’s wrist up to his grinning lips and kisses the back of his hand—the same fucking hand where I’d left my own kiss that first night at Gravity.
Noah’s eyes flick to mine, but I can’t stop staring at his hand.
One one thousand… two one thousand… three… eleveeeen.
I drag in a shaky breath—barely—just enough not to collapse. My chest tightens. The edges of the room blur.
I try again for a steadier breath and begin counting all over. One one thousand… two one thousand…
I glance up—and immediately lose count.
Stars.
Millions of them. Everywhere.
It’s like I stepped into another galaxy. They’re spectacular—shiny and bright—just like—
Noah’s lips.
Jesus Christ. They’re his lips.
A groan escapes me, and I bury my fists against my eyes.
“Alex, love.” Gabriel is fretting, dropping Noah’s hand and sliding in beside me. His arm settles gently across my back as those tiny stars keep flickering across Noah’s mouth.
“Are you alright?” he asks, voice thick with genuine concern.
God. This is so fucked up.
“Let’s get you a drink, sí? A drink makes everyone happy.”
Of course it does.
Fucking Gabriel.
He’s trying though. At least that’s what I keep telling myself as he guides me through the overdone sprawl of our living room and toward the kitchen island. I sink onto a barstool, heavy and graceless, like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore.
I don’t even want to imagine what tonight is going to be like.
Actually—I can’t.
I can’t think.
There’s nothing. Just static. Just numb.
Noah takes the seat beside me.
Because why the fuck not?
“I’m Noah,” he says.
His voice is soft—too soft—and it washes over me like a lullaby I didn’t ask for. I tilt my eyes up, and there they are—those innocent blue ones staring straight back at me, and for a second I swear I might cry.
“Alex.” I manage to push out, barely.
He rests a hand on my knee, steadying its frantic bounce, because lord fucking knows I am anything but calm.
“Where the hell did Elijah put the bourbon?!” Gabriel snaps from across the room.
I grin inwardly as he rips through the cabinets like a man possessed. Looks like I pissed him off—which was exactly the point. I moved the liquor on purpose, just to unsettle him, just enough to remind him he’s not the only one who can play games.
What I hadn’t expected was for me to be the one who lost my footing. While he mutters and slams another cabinet door, I drop a shaky hand over Noah’s.
He doesn’t look nearly as rattled as I feel, which is a relief—and also… strange. Stranger, the longer I think about it.
Suddenly, my brain is flipping through questions like a deck of cards—too fast, too loud, too many at once—each one slapping down before I can catch it.
Did he realize who he was dating?
Or where Gabriel lived?
Where we all lived?
Was this some kind of setup?
Was I being played?
Or worse—was Gabriel?
Christ. What am I missing?
Was Noah not as innocent as I assumed?
My pulse spikes hard enough to make my vision wobble. The whole room feels like it’s vibrating.
And then comes the worst question, the one I don’t want but can’t stop.
What the hell are they even doing together?
Boyfriends?
Noah’s slender fingers weave through mine with the polished dexterity of a dancer, snaking around each of my digits as if they belong there. He brushes his thumb over the tattoo on my wrist, and I can’t shake the feeling that he knows exactly what it means.
My breath catches. Something in my chest tightens.
I glance down at our hands.
“Nice to meet you, Alex.”
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, then slowly pulls away, letting his fingers trail across my palm—a soft, deliberate drag that, annoyingly, quiets the storm in my head. The static dims. My pulse stutters, thrown off by the sudden calm.
“I see you’ve already started on the drinks.” Elijah’s voice sails into the kitchen before he even appears.
“Barely,” Gabriel grumbles. “Since when did we begin playing hide the bottles?”
Elijah laughs as he steps in, plucking the bourbon from Gabriel’s hands. “Go, take a seat, love. You’re our guest tonight. Let me do the honors.”
He gathers the ice-filled glasses and resumes his pour, then he turns, sliding a glass across the counter with that signature warm smile.
“Welcome to our home. I’m Elijah. You must be—”
Yeah. Welcome to my world, Elijah.
“I’m Noah,” Noah says, filling the awkward silence with expert timing.
And like the polished businessman he is, Elijah quickly recovers, slipping right back into the comfort of conversation. “Ah, yes. Noah. It’s nice to finally meet you. Gabriel has said wonderful things about you.”
Oh please. I swallow the urge to gag. Or dramatically stick my finger down my throat.
“I’m worried about Alex,” Gabriel says, slicing clean through my internal tantrum.
He moves to my side, one hand rising to knead the back of my neck—the exact spot hoarding every ounce of tension in my body, holding every muscle hostage.
“He’s not well.”
He’s got that right.
Elijah, ever composed, doesn’t flinch. Of course he doesn’t. He gives nothing away. His expression remains infuriatingly smooth. Calm. Unruffled. I almost envy him. That kind of stellar composure should be illegal.
I, on the other hand, possess zero bravado. I’m all exposed wires and circuits. No poker face to speak of.
“Alex,” Elijah soothes, stepping closer, his hand brushing along the side of my stricken face. A rough knuckle grazes my cheekbone, then slides to my chin.
“Look at me, baby.”
I do.
At least… I think I do.
Nope. Still staring at Noah.
Shit.
I force my gaze—slowly, painfully—over to Elijah.
“Why don’t you both take your drinks into the sitting room?” he suggests, calm as ever. “I’ll make Alex some tea. We’ll join you in a moment.”
Tea?
What happened to a drink makes everyone happy?
Oh. Right. He’s now sitting in the other room next to Noah… very happy.
Guess I’m getting fucking tea now.
Which, by the way, is what I drink when I get migraines.
And we both know—I don’t have one.
Still, I play along. Watch him fill the kettle like this is just another quiet evening. Like this isn’t a social experiment that’s spiraled straight into hell.
I stay quiet, pretending to focus on the sound of the kettle warming, but the truth is I’m watching them from the corner of my eye.
Gabriel eases himself into the loveseat beside Noah and immediately settles in—an arm draped over Noah’s shoulder, casual and effortless. His legs shift just enough that their thighs touch. Intimate. Intentional.
He leans in, murmuring something in that damn Latin accent—loud enough that I catch every syllable from across the room.
Noah chuckles.
I wince.
And then come the lashes. God. The way he lifts them at Gabriel in a soft, flirtatious sweep, all easy smiles and bright eyes.
My stomach pitches.
I might actually throw up.
“Alex…” Elijah’s voice cuts through my seething thoughts as he sets a mug of hot tea in front of me. The aroma is faintly familiar. Safe. Soothing. Lame.
I take it anyway, because what else am I going to do—throw it at him? Swallow it and keep pretending? Yep. That sounds about right.
I lift it to my nose, hoping—praying—for even the slightest hint of whiskey.
But… nope. Shit out of luck.
Noah shifts in the loveseat, and I swear he glances at me for just a split second. His smile is harmless. Polite. But it twists something inside me.
Because Noah’s here. Sitting there. Smiling. Laughing quietly with Gabriel like this is all completely normal.
I wrap my fingers tighter around the mug. The heat seeps in, a fragile anchor against the storm in my head.
“I’m just as surprised as you are, love… maybe more,” Elijah whispers.
Doubt it.
“Let’s give them a chance. You have to admit, they seem… very happy. Just look at them.”
Let’s not.
“So, Alex, tell us all about Fashion Week. Ana said she had a wonderful time.” Gabriel sets his fork aside and sips his wine casually, like he’s the most relaxed person in the world.
I finish chewing my steak before answering. “Busy as usual, but I had a great time. Always fun… just exhausting.”
I push the rice around on my plate, trying—and failing—not to look at Noah. It’s virtually impossible when he’s seated directly across from me. His presence tugs at me whether I want it to or not.
I can feel his eyes on me. Not constant—just enough to pull at my focus, make me hyperaware of every move I make.
They laugh, sip their wine, lean toward each other. It’s like strangers have taken up residence in my chest. Like being pushed out of my own skin.
Saying yes to continuing our dinner plans was a tough one. Especially when every part of me wanted to give each of them a piece of my mind. But what would be the point? Technically, they didn’t do anything wrong. There’s really no reason for me to be pissed off.
Except that I am.
I shove a forkful of rice and beans into my mouth.
Better to have food in than words out.
Better to chew than speak.
Because the alternative? Staring across the table, conversing with them.
Yeah—hard pass.
“I’ve always wanted to attend a show,” Noah says suddenly, popping into the conversation—and I nearly choke on my food.
I set my fork down, reach for my napkin, dab the corner of my mouth just as Gabriel refills our wine—thank you very much.
“Is that right, sweetheart? Maybe next year Alex could hook us up with some tickets, sí?” Gabriel tosses me a wink. I fight the urge to poke his eye out.
“Noah will steal the whole show with that pretty face,” he adds, cupping Noah’s jaw and kissing those glossy lips like he’s sealing a deal.
For the second time tonight, I plaster on a fake smile and slide my gaze back to Noah.
“I can arrange tickets,” I say. “That is… if you’re still together.”
Gabriel laughs, totally unbothered. “Of course we’ll be together,” he says, fingers lazily twisting through Noah’s hair before turning that grin back to me.
“By the way, I happened to bring my red Speedo tonight, but Elijah tells me you’d prefer me naked instead.”
Elijah growls around a mouthful of food. “Not exactly how I remember that conversation, Gabriel.”
“Ah yes, you are right,” Gabriel muses, swirling his wine. “I believe you were saying how much Alex was looking forward to my boyfriend coming tonight. Let me assure you—the night is still young.”
He raises his glass in a loose toast to no one in particular, then brushes his lips against Noah’s blushing cheek.
“We were also discussing the incredible things I can do with my tongue…”
“Oh Jesus, Gabriel.” Elijah slaps his napkin onto the table with a heavy sigh. “Noah, please excuse his filthy mouth. It’s not his best quality.”
“Now that, I’d have to disagree with.” Gabriel snickers. “My tongue is definitely one of my better attributes… isn’t that right, beautiful?”
“Oh… well, um…” Noah stammers, cheeks deepening in color. “I have to agree with Elijah. Your mouth is pretty… filthy.”
A wicked grin curls across Gabriel’s handsome face. “Of course it is, sweetheart. Especially after I’ve—”
“Dessert, anyone?”
I spring to my feet, chair shrieking across the floor as it scrapes back hard—loud enough to kill the moment. It nearly slams into the wall behind me.
Elijah moves quickly to pick it up.
“I’ll put on some coffee,” he huffs out, trying to play it cool, smoothing the edges of the moment. “Noah, love. This chocolate pie looks delicious. I can’t wait to try a slice.”
“It’s my mother’s recipe,” Noah replies, a bit bashful. “I hope it’s as good as hers.”
His cheeks match the cherry-red of his lips. He’s absolutely adorable—and the worst part is, I can’t stop noticing.
I gather up the dinner plates and retreat to the kitchen, dragging my feet just enough to steal a few extra moments of solitude. When I return with dessert plates, the energy has shifted—but hasn’t settled.
“Does your mother live in the city too?” I ask, trying to gain more insight into his family—into him.
I set the plates down in the center of the table, alongside the coffee mugs Elijah just brought in.
“Oh, uh… she’s in France,” he answers, a slight hitch to his voice—just enough hesitation to clock. Then he offers the first slice of pie to Gabriel.
“Mmm… I think I’ll have two slices,” Gabriel purrs, smoothing his tongue over that devious grin.
“You know what they say about chocolate, sí, Alex?”
His eyes lock with mine.
“It makes you horny.”
“I believe that comes naturally for you,” Elijah says dryly, not missing a beat.
“And I believe you are right.” Gabriel beams proudly.