7
EMERSYN
I sat quietly in the back of the taxi while Tara entertained Gabe with some exaggerated version of a story I’d heard a thousand times. I was stuck in my own head, wondering exactly how I’d ended up in this situation. Tara shouldn’t have invited him back to our place. I told myself I could use the opportunity to gather more information, but it felt wrong, like I was somehow taking advantage of him, even though I’d done it to other people before and never batted an eye. And the truth was, seeing Conrad had messed with me in a way I didn’t like to be messed with. I felt uneasy, jumpy, and there was this pressure in my chest—like I needed to do something reckless. I snuck a look at Gabe. He was easy to be around, easy to talk to, and not exactly difficult to look at. But I promised myself he wouldn’t become the ‘something reckless’ I had the urge to do. There was too much at stake for that. I’d only just wiggled my way into his life. I needed more information before I fucked it all up.
Brady and Brittney were sprawled on the sofa watching a movie. Their eyebrows rose when Gabe followed us inside, but they didn’t say anything. I muttered some sort of excuse, walked straight into my bedroom, and shut the door behind me. Only, it opened seconds later, and Gabe stood in the middle of the room, openly staring, his eyes tracking over every item.
“Wow.” He whistled and moved to my bookshelf, a single finger trailing over each spine. Then he crouched down and picked up the Trivial Pursuit box. “You have an awful lot of board games.”
He shook the game as though it was a present he was trying to guess on Christmas morning. In my mind, all the little wedges fell out of the scoring tokens and scattered throughout the box. I took it from him and put it back in its place.
“Two a year for every year since I was born.”
Gabe lifted a single brow. It seemed to be a habit of his.
“From my uncle,” I added for no reason. “Each birthday and Christmas.” More unnecessary information.
Gabe’s mouth twisted into a smirk as though he knew how unsettled I was by him and enjoyed my discomfort.
“Your bedding is very, ahh… lush,” he decided on. “And pink.”
Conrad had hated anything he deemed ‘girly,’ so as soon as I moved in here, I bought faux fur plush pink bedding. Not because I particularly liked it; I didn’t. But because I knew he wouldn’t. My bed was perfectly made, with cushions scattered just so and a white throw casually placed on the corner of the bed at just the right angle. Gabe ran toward it, took a flying leap, and landed right in the middle, messing everything up.
“Okay,” he said, rustling into the depths of the softness. “Now I get it. I think this might just be the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been in.”
“Well, that is saying a lot,” I replied, thinking of all the beds he must have been in.
He narrowed his eyes as he placed his hands behind his head. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
“Oh, nothing.”
I stood awkwardly as Gabe lay there, his glazed eyes staring at me, and a faint smile still playing at the corners of his lips. I looked everywhere but at him. I examined my room as a stranger would. It was slightly startling how organized it was, almost to the point of being insane. Everything had its place. The books and games on my shelves were arranged by both size and color. The makeup on my dresser was minimal and neatly lined up from tallest to shortest. There were no posters, no decorations, and the walls were plain white. It verged on boring. The only pop of color came from the marshmallow bedding and from the plants on the shelf above my bed.
“Are you done inspecting my room?” I asked as I swung my gaze back to Gabe. He didn’t respond. “Seriously?” I muttered when I realized he’d fallen asleep.
I plonked myself on the edge of the bed, hoping the movement would wake him, but the little snore he let out told me I’d been unsuccessful. I jiggled the bed a few times, but it did nothing. He was out cold. With a sigh, I walked over and opened my door, slightly startled when Tara tumbled to the floor.
“What?” she exclaimed, feigning innocence as she lay on the floor and stared up at me.
I placed my hands on my hips and glared at her.
She merely flashed me a smile and fluttered her eyelashes as she got to her feet. “This isn’t exactly a common occurrence,” she said. “We just wanted to know what was happening.”
“We?” I peered out the door to where Brittney and Brody smiled innocently. I flipped them off, then dragged Tara inside my room. “Look.” I pointed at the sleeping man on my bed.
“I know you’re not very familiar with this, but it’s the male of the species,” she whispered loudly.
“Haha,” I said dryly. “What do I do?”
She smiled mischievously. “I can think of a few things.”
I whacked her arm. “Seriously, do I wake him? Do I just let him sleep? What if he stays there all night? What do I do? Do I sleep beside him? Do I—”
“Hmmm, let me think.” Tara exaggeratedly tapped her finger to her chin. “A handsome Adonis follows you home and falls asleep in your bed. Hmmm,” she pondered teasingly. “Nope, I’m not seeing a problem.”
“I can’t just let him stay. I don’t know him. What if he’s a serial killer? Shouldn’t you at least be concerned for my safety?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “You really need to get laid.”
“This is serious. What if he thinks we’re going to have sex?”
Tara shrugged. “If you want to, go for it. If you don’t, then don’t.” She sighed at my look of annoyance. “Fine. We’ll swap. You take my bed with Cody, and I’ll snuggle up to pretty boy here.”
“Then I’d be worried for his safety,” I muttered. I grabbed her and dragged her from the room. “Thanks for nothing,” I said as I slammed the door.
I looked back over at Gabe, hoping the sound had woken him, but all he did was adjust his position.
I needed somewhere to think. Somewhere away from the sprawled limbs of Gable Thornton. I opened the door to my closet and stared at the ladder that led to the trapdoor up to the roof. It was my safe place, the spot I went to when I needed to be alone or needed to think.
As I climbed, I grabbed the old army ammo box stored on the shelf and a thick blanket. Once situated on the roof, I wrenched the box open. A bag of joints and a few lighters sat inside.
It was cold, the breeze coming in off the ocean chilling my skin, so I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, lit a joint, and inhaled deeply. A ghost of a smile spread as I exhaled, slowly releasing a stream of smoke.
For Gabe, going home with a stranger, staying the night, waking up, and never seeing them again had probably happened a thousand times. Not for me, though. And stupidly, there was still a little thrill in my chest over the fact that he’d chosen me over that goddess Molly. I lay back against the sloped tin of the roof and stared up at the stars. It was a cloudless night, and the constellations shone brightly. My eyes drooped, peace descending over me until a noise had me sitting up with a jerk.
Gabe’s head popped above the trapdoor. “What on earth are you doing up here?” he said, his voice croaky with sleep.
“Here.” I held out the joint. “You’re up.”
Gabe carefully picked his way over the tin to sit beside me. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were only half open. “I thought you were sober?”
“Cali-sober,” I replied with a wink.
“Thanks.” Gabe reached for the joint and placed it between his lips. I handed him the lighter, and the flame flickered as he relit the tip. He closed his eyes as he inhaled. He stayed like that for a while, holding in his breath, eyes closed, fingers clasping the joint delicately, before releasing his breath in a stream of air that curled into the night. We passed it back and forth between us silently until there was nothing but the roach left.
I sneaked a look at Gabe, framed by the lights of the city. Strands of his hair danced in the breeze, wrapping across his face. One strand got caught on his lip. I became transfixed watching it as the wind tried to toss it free. But it just stayed there, clinging to his lip as though it couldn’t bear to be anywhere else. I didn’t blame it. In that moment, his lips were a deep blush shade. They almost had a feminine appeal as they glistened in the light.
His voice startled me, breaking me out of my weed-induced fixation. “You know,” he said, “no matter how much you want me to, I’m not having sex with you tonight.”
“Excuse me?” I straightened and blinked, unsure I’d heard the words that just came out of his mouth correctly.
Gabe picked up a fallen twig and snapped it between his fingers. “You say that a lot. ‘Excuse me,’” he mimicked, then snorted. “You’ve said it like three times tonight.”
“You’ve been counting?” I made a tutting sound. “And you keep insisting you don’t have stalker tendencies.”
He rolled the broken twig between his fingers and chuckled. “It’s more about how you say it than the actual words. Your entire body sort of rears back.” He sat up abruptly and held his body rigid, demonstrating. “I don’t know the right word for it. It’s like you’re saying, ‘How dare you!’”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I was stoned. “Indignant?” I suggested. “Or incredulous, maybe?” I was undecided.
“But even if we don’t have sex tonight, you’re still going to fall in love with me.” He leaned back on his elbows. “People just can’t help it.”
I scoffed. “Your level of arrogance is rather impressive.”
He twisted his head to look at me and grinned lazily. “See, that’s twice you’ve already called me impressive.”
I widened my eyes. “Unbelievable.”
“Oh, it’s all believable.” He waved his hands down his body and winked.
I laughed and rolled my eyes. “I told you you’re not my type.”
“Nonsense. I’m everyone’s type.”
I shook my head. The motion felt odd. “Not mine.”
“Tell me, exactly what about this—” he waved his hand over his body again, “—is not your type?”
He didn’t bother denying he was flirting. He owned it. It demonstrated how he glided through life: money, looks, and charm.
I looked him up and down slowly. “It’s nothing specific; you’re just…” I paused, trying to think of the word that would annoy him the most. “You’re just a little basic.”
“Basic?” His brows shot skyward.
I shrugged, relishing the look of disbelief on his face. “Yeah, you know, basic, pedestrian, banal.”
“I know what basic means,” he muttered.
“It’s the hair,” I continued, “the muscles, the tan. It gives off such a surfer-dude-meets-influencer vibe.”
Gabe stared at me like he couldn’t quite believe what had just come out of my mouth. Then the corners of his lips curved before his mouth broke into a wide grin. “You just wait. You’re going to fall in love with me. You’ll see.”
“Well,” I got to my feet. The blanket fell from my shoulders, and I rubbed my hands down my legs. “I have no intention of falling in love with you or sleeping with you.”
“Sure you don’t,” he teased, squinting up at me. “Admit it, you’ve already thought about it.”
My phone vibrated, the sound loud on the tin roof. I glanced down and saw it was my mother calling. Again. She didn’t usually call this late, so I picked up.
“What?” I snapped.
My mother’s voice was slurred. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, and your father and I—”
“Can we just do this later?” I groaned, talking over her.
“Emersyn,” she scolded, using my full name. “We really need to resolve this nonsense between you and Conrad—”
“Goodbye, Mother,” I said and pushed the end button.
Gabe was sitting, watching me with a smirk.
“What?” I snapped, in a similar way to how I’d just snapped at my mother.
“Oh, I like that,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“Like what?”
“The way you snapped at me just then. You’re feisty.”
I rolled my eyes. It seemed to be my go-to move. “You’re incorrigible.”
A flicker of confusion passed over Gabe’s expression, then he sighed and shrugged. “I think we’re meant to be.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I always fall for women who have messed-up relationships with their mothers.” When I didn’t respond, he held up his hands. “I swear I was only joking,” he insisted. “We’ll have sex if you really want.”
I snorted and chuckled at his audacity. “I’m going to get a drink. Want a beer or something?”
“Sure.” Gabe lay back, staring up at the dark sky. Clouds had begun to creep across the sky, blocking the stars.
The ladder swayed a little as I made my way down. The intake of weed had begun to catch up with me. For some reason, I felt the urge to check my reflection in my bedroom mirror as I passed. I looked the same as usual—nothing out of the ordinary and certainly nothing extraordinary. Gabe’s teasing had gotten under my skin and made me feel a bit hot and bothered, so I scolded myself for feeling that way. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. Men like him thrived on being idolized. I narrowed my eyes and frowned.
“He’s just a boy. An immature, arrogant boy who thinks he’s owed the world,” I reminded myself. “Get the information you need, and you’ll never have to see him again.” But even I could see the disappointment in my features as I uttered the words.
When I made it back up to the roof, a bottle of water and a bottle of beer in hand, Gabe was still lying there, staring wistfully at nothing.
I twisted the cap off the beer and handed it to him. “So,” I said, taking a seat next to him, “to even the score of our friendship—” I emphasized the word friendship and gave him a pointed look, at which he laughed—“you need to ask me the same questions I asked you earlier.” Again, what I really wanted to ask him were all the questions swirling in my head about his brother. But it felt too personal. It was different than listening to the intoxicated ravings of a random person at a bar.
Gabe sat up and took a swig of beer, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Deal.” There was relief in his expression, as though he thought I was about to ask him to leave. “Siblings?” he asked.
“None.”
“Parents?”
“Two.”
He smirked at that. “Names?”
“Merrick and Colette.”
“What do you do to keep yourself busy? Are you studying? Everyone in this city seems to be studying something.”
I answered same way I did everyone. “I’m a writer.”
“What sort of stuff?”
“Freelance, writing articles for online magazines. Stuff like that.”
“Anything I would know?”
“Not unless you’re into satirical essays on society’s obsession with fame and fortune.” I always deflected.
Gabe laughed. “Strangely, that’s my niche reading kink.”
“But I’m also a telemarketer,” I added, deciding to be honest.
He lifted a brow. “Writing not paying the bills?”
“Not all of them. Not yet.”
He took another swig. “And your exes? How many hearts have you broken other than Conrad’s?”
“What makes you think I was the one to break his heart?”
“Just a gut feeling.” Gabe’s eyes dipped to the roof surface before glancing up at me again. “If we were together and broke up, I’m pretty certain my heart would be shattered.”
I rolled my eyes and shoved his shoulder.
Gabe merely laughed. “He reminds me of my brother, actually. Tyler. All charming and handsome but a true asshole at heart.”
I let out a chuckle. “You nailed him precisely.”
“So?” Gabe probed. “What happened between you two?”
I screwed up my nose. As much as Gabe might be able to spill out his secrets, it wasn’t as easy for me. “I don’t really like talking about it.”
Gabe lay back down, resting the base of his bottle on his chest. It rose and fell as he breathed. I lay beside him and stared up at the now cloud-covered sky, oddly no longer feeling the cold.
“There’s something strangely appealing about you, Emersyn.”
“Syn,” I corrected. “Just Syn.” I don’t know why I did it. For some reason, him having a pet name for me was appealing. Ugh. I hated myself at times. It also made my deception go down a little easier if he knew me by a different name.
“There’s something strangely appealing about you, Syn, just Syn.”
I turned my head to face him. “Is it my boobs? I’m told I have fantastic boobs.”
He laughed loudly, and the bottle tipped off his chest. “Shit,” he said, attempting to grab it before it spilled everywhere. “No, that’s not what I was referring to, although I don’t doubt your boobs are fantastic. I was more referring to what’s between your ears.”
I made a retching sound. “Ugh, how many times has that line actually worked?” I shifted my voice to a mocking tone. “It’s not your beauty I’m attracted to; it’s your brain.”
He laughed again and sat up, pulling his t-shirt away from his chest to check how wet it was. “I smell like a fucking brewery.”
He pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. I couldn’t help but run my eyes over his chest. He was perfectly sculpted—almost too perfect in a way. It was obvious he owned a gym. There wasn’t a lick of fat on him. A tattoo ran down his left side. I had to tilt my head to read it. It said, ‘Don’t die wondering.’
“But honestly?” he said, pulling my attention back to his face. “That line works most of the time.” He winked and twisted his mouth into a wicked grin. “But that wasn’t what I was going to say.”
“Sure it wasn’t,” I said as I lifted my bottle to take a sip of water.
“I was referring to your nose.”
I choked, some water spilling from my mouth and running down my chin. “My nose?”
“It’s rather cute.” Gabe placed his hands behind his head and closed his eyes as though he was ready to fall asleep. “I’ve never done this before.”
“What? Slept over at a girl’s house without fucking her?”
His eyes popped open. “No! Wow.” He shook his head and laughed disbelievingly, with a faint expression of being impressed. “I mean, talking like this, so honestly with a stranger.” He turned so he was propped on his side. I lay on my back with my head twisted to look at him. He reached out and tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind my ear. I hated that my heart skipped a beat. “You didn’t know anything about me, and now you know almost everything.”
Even though I knew he was exaggerating, guilt lodged itself in my chest. He hadn’t told me everything. But the only reason I knew that was because I already knew the things he hadn’t shared.
I wasn’t a stranger.
I was the stalker.
“So I’m staying over?” he asked. “As a friend, of course.”
I warred with how to answer. I wasn’t supposed to be getting this friendly with him. It was dangerous. But I convinced myself it was what I needed to do in order to get the information I wanted. It was for work.
“If you want.” I turned so I was facing him, tucking my hands beneath my cheek. “You’ll have to share my bed, though, so that might be a little difficult and all with how attracted you are to my nose.”
A smirk twitched at the corners of Gabe’s mouth as he reached over and booped my nose. “It is an exceptionally cute one.”
I sighed. “It’s a curse, really. That and the perfection of my boobs.”
After a few moments of simply lying there, the air between us shifted and grew heavy. Gabe’s chest prickled with goosebumps. I’d always thought of him, of all the Thorntons really, as mystical beings—people to admire and despise from afar. But here, now, it dawned on me just how human he was. The wealth of his family hadn’t sheltered him from pain. It hadn’t protected him from heartache. That was plain enough to see.
Gabe’s eyes softened. Or maybe they hardened. They did something that caused my stomach to twist in a knot, and he started moving closer, close enough that his lips almost brushed against mine. Unsure how else to rebuff him, I laughed and got to my feet before the weight of the air between us grew to be too much. “It’s late,” I said.
Gabe sat up, his expression one of confusion. “You’re really not impressed by me at all, are you?” he said seriously.
“I like you just fine,” I insisted.
“Sure you do, Shania.”
“Shania?”
Gabe just shook his head. “Never mind. But I think you’re pretending not to like me. Deep down, I know you’re smitten.”
“I’m not. I know all about men like you.”
“Like me?” he repeated. “Enlighten me. What am I like? And don’t say basic.”
I stared at him for a moment, wondering whether to choose honesty or flattery. I decided on brutal honesty. “You’re rich, spoiled, and self-centered, you—”
Gabe’s eyes widened. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”
“You think you can flash a smile or do that thing with your brow, and I’ll fall at your feet like some love-obsessed little girl.”
The shock was clear in his expression. “I do not! Wait, what thing with the brow?”
And right on cue, he lifted one. “That.” I pointed at him. “That thing.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you think this—” he lifted a single brow again, “—is worthy of falling at my feet?” His smirk was back. It was as if every negative word I’d hurled at him merely bounced off his perfectly formed body and hit the ground without impact.
“No. I’m saying that’s what you think.”
“I wasn’t even aware I was doing it,” he insisted. “I must admit, though, I’ve never met anyone who thinks they know what I’m thinking in quite such detail before. You’ve obviously thought a lot about me.”
I opened my mouth to retort but couldn’t come up with anything because he was right. And I hated it. I rolled my eyes and pushed him so he fell back against the roof. “I need my beauty sleep.”
“You got that right,” he muttered, grinning like a devil.
I whacked him across the head, then helped him to his feet.
“Are you still staying?” I asked.
“Are you kicking me out?”
“No.”
“Then I’m staying.”
Once back down in my bedroom, I didn’t look back as I tugged off my jeans and top, quickly replacing them with an oversized t-shirt and climbed into bed. I didn’t look at him as I heard the flick of the buttons on his jeans or as the bed dipped with his weight. I expected him to turn his back to me as I had done to him, but instead, he scooted over, pressing his chest to my back and draping his arm over my shoulder. The scent of tequila and beer washed over me. It felt strange having someone this close. No one had been this close since Conrad.
“Thanks for tonight. It was nice just talking like that,” Gabe said sincerely.
“I thought you might hate me for what I said.”
“Why would I? You’re right. I am rich and spoiled and arrogant, and what else did you call me?”
“Self-centered.”
“I’m not so convinced of that one,” he chuckled. “And sorry I almost ruined it by trying to kiss you.”
“I might be able to forgive you,” I replied. “One day.”
Hesitantly, I snuggled back into him, wiggling until we fit perfectly, enjoying the connection that didn’t hold the weight of expectation. But a shot of electricity rippled through me at the touch of our skin, and my breath caught.
Gabe groaned and rolled onto his back. “Probably not the best idea,” he said with a chuckle. “You know, with us just being friends and all.”
There was a pause, as if he was waiting for me to interject, say that I’d changed my mind, or perhaps roll over and initiate a kiss. But instead, I ignored the pounding of my heart and attempted a laugh as well. “Yeah, probably not.”
I wasn’t so easily swayed.
He fell asleep almost instantly, the alcohol causing him to snore loudly. I stared at the ceiling, at my perfectly arranged bookcase, at the makeup on my dresser, and wondered what the fuck I was doing.