22
EMERSYN
I woke the next morning feeling like shit. I was hungover, had a splitting headache, and the memory of the words I’d shouted at Gabe rang loudly in my head.
He would hate me now, and rightly so. It was probably best this way anyway—a clean break. No lingering feelings to deal with, at least on his side. I’d severed them too harshly. I’d been getting too close to Gable Thornton, and we’d already become too attached. I’d stupidly thought that if I didn’t get close physically, everything would be okay. I could keep us at a safe distance. Have my cake and eat it too. But I was wrong. This was for the best. Things could never develop between us. There was too much history, even if he didn’t know about it.
So why was it that every time I thought about never seeing him again, my stomach lurched? Why was it that ever since last night, I’d had this constant dull ache in the pit of my stomach? An ache of guilt and shame.
I needed to forget about him. I needed to forget about the story, about the Thorntons in general. I opened my laptop and looked over the photos from the night before. There were a few decent ones—enough to post with the review anyway. I started a draft. I inserted the photos. I held my fingers over the keys, waiting for inspiration to strike, but it didn’t come. I couldn’t stop thinking about Gabe.
I needed to get drunk.
Pulling on a pair of harem pants stolen from Tara and tying my hair into a messy bun that precariously balanced on top of my head, I wandered into the living room, hoping to find a flatmate at home. Eventually, I found Tara asleep in her bed.
“Hey.” I picked up a pillow and whacked her across the face.
She sat up, startled, and blinked rapidly before rubbing her eyes.
“What?” she snapped.
“Want to day drink with me?”
Tara rubbed her eyes some more. “What day is it?”
“Tuesday. So do you want to drink with me or not?”
I placed my hands on my hips, waiting expectantly. I didn’t know what I would do if she didn’t agree. None of the other flatmates were at home, and I didn’t have any friends I could randomly call. I was prepared to drink alone, but there was something so pathetic about it. All I knew was that I couldn’t face the day with this swell of dread lodged in my gut. And I couldn’t give in and call Gabe, begging for his forgiveness when it was better for us to end as we had.
Tara tossed off the covers and swung her tanned legs over the side of the bed. “Sure.” She looked at me suspiciously.
“Those are my pants.”
“I found them in the laundry.”
“Because I was washing them.”
“Finders, keepers?” I offered.
“They were never lost.” She sighed. “I thought you weren’t—” She stopped herself. “You know what? Why not? I’ve got nothing else on today.”
I rubbed my hands together and walked out of her room and into the kitchen. It didn’t take me long to find a bottle of wine and two glasses and settle myself on the sofa.
“What are we drinking to?” Tara asked as she flopped down beside me.
“Nothing,” I replied. Then I shrugged. “Or everything. Your choice.”
“Well, I’m drinking to everything then.” She clinked her glass against mine, and we both took a sip. The TV blared in the background. The sun shone on a single patch of carpet. The hands of the clock moved achingly slowly. I was on my third glass before the gentle numbness of alcohol began to reach my brain. It was a welcome relief, reducing my thoughts of Gabe to nothing more than an annoying hum at the back of my mind.
“Have you ever even seen inside there?” Tara asked, jutting her chin toward the garage, which was visible through the small window.
“The landlord said it’s out of bounds. Probably locked,” I replied. I hadn’t even met the landlord. Everything was done online, but he’d made it clear that the garage wasn’t part of the deal. It was the reason all of our cars had to be parked on the street.
“But have you ever tried?” Tara asked as a grin crept up the edges of her mouth.
We both downed our drinks and refilled them before walking out to the garage. I needed something to distract me—anything, really—so exploring a forbidden garage seemed like a good idea. I stared through the grime-covered window but couldn’t see much.
“Maybe we could break the window to get in and just say some random person did it?” I suggested.
“Or…” Tara said, pushing on the door. “We could just go through the door.”
The garage stunk of mildew and mothballs. It was piled high with junk, most of it covered in mold. I held my hand over my nose and breathed through my mouth.
“Well, this is a letdown.” I took a large gulp of wine and tugged on something plastic-looking on the ground. It was filthy. I couldn’t even make out what it was.
“Is it like an inflatable boat or something?” Tara asked curiously.
I tugged it out further, pulling it from under a box of some sort of chemicals.
“It’s an inflatable spa!” she cried. “Let’s clean it. Let’s see if it still works.” Her eyes were wide with excitement.
I didn’t see how we could possibly get it back into a working state, judging by the amount of dirt stuck to it, but I shrugged and agreed to give it a go anyway. The alcohol helped my decision. And so did the fact that it was a good distraction from everything I was trying not to think about. I finished off my glass of wine and set to work finding cleaning supplies.
I found a bottle of bleach, grabbed the dishwashing liquid, and a scrubbing brush, then Tara and I set to work. I wondered if she’d complain about the cleaning and make me do it all to protect her nails, but there was a certain excitement about Tara that made her eager to help.
After scrubbing until our arms ached, we searched through the rest of the junk in the garage until we found the motor. And then, once it was inflated, we started scrubbing all over again.
“I can’t believe how well this is shaping up!” Tara stood up and wiped her arm across her forehead. “No one would believe it was covered in mold a couple of hours ago.”
I glanced at my phone. No missed calls. No messages. Nothing.
“Do you need a refill?” I asked her.
By the time I arrived back outside, Tara was dragging the hose to where we’d decided to set up the spa. It was a sunny little spot in the backyard, visible from my rooftop space and close to the mattress on the grass. With the sun shining down on us, we tugged off our pants and perched on the edge of the inflatable surface, letting our feet dangle into the cold water as it filled the spa.
I closed my eyes, soaking in the warmth of the sun on my face. Then I popped them open again. Closed eyes often equaled a focused mind, and at that moment, my focused mind fell to only one thing.
Gable Thornton.
“So why’d he leave so late?”
“Huh?” I replied, realizing Tara had been speaking to me this whole time.
“Gabe,” she clarified. “I heard him leave really late last night. Is everything okay between you two?”
“It’s fine. We’re just friends,” I repeated the tired refrain.
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Tara snorted. “You guys keep telling people that, but no one—I repeat—no one believes it. We can see the way you two look at each other. I’ve never seen you look at someone that way before.”
I grinned lazily, letting myself dip into the fantasy. “Yeah.” The alcohol was loosening my tongue and making me admit things I wouldn’t normally. “He’s…” I adjusted myself on the side of the spa so I was facing Tara a little better. “He’s just—I think I really like him,” I finished plainly. “He’s not who I thought he was.”
Tara laughed. “Of course you like him! He’s gorgeous!”
“I know.” I sighed. “I literally get butterflies in my stomach sometimes when I look at him. I mean, how fucked up is that?”
“Fucked up? That’s not fucked up, Emmy. You’ve got a strange way of looking at things. Most people would kill for butterflies when they looked at someone.”
“But it’s not just the way he looks. I mean, obviously that helps; he’s like freaking Adonis or something…” I let myself momentarily get distracted thinking about Gabe and the way he smiled, the way his eyes twinkled mischievously, the cut of his body—the—I broke off my thoughts. “He’s just so easy to talk to. And he’s…”
“He’s what?”
“It doesn’t matter. It could never work between us anyway.”
“Why not?” Tara splashed her feet in the water as the depth rose.
“Because of what I’ve written about his family. Because of what I want to write about his family.” I left it at that.
“You don’t have to write it,” Tara said, looking over at me sheepishly.
“But I can’t really take back what I’ve already written, so…” I left the words unspoken. I saw no other solution.
“Well, at least fuck him then.”
I almost spat out the sip of wine I’d just taken. “Tara!”
“What?” She shrugged. “At least then you might be able to stop that look from crossing your face every time you think about him.”
“What look?”
“That look of thirst. You look like someone who’s never been properly fucked, and Gabe is the only person who—”
“Okay, okay,” I laughed, cutting her off. “I get the picture.” I waved my feet through the water. “It’s kind of true though. I haven’t been with anyone since Conrad.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “No way!”
I nodded slowly. “In fact—”
“Wait,” she interrupted. “I need a smoke for this.” She bent down, grabbed her packet from the ground, lit a cigarette, and stuck it between her lips. “Okay, continue.”
“Well, he’s the only one I’ve ever been with. Some people can do casual sex. I can’t. I almost tried it once, but I chickened out. The poor guy was so confused.”
“Oh, you poor thing! You have no idea what you’re missing. I hope at least that he was, you know—” She wiggled her brows. “I hope he was worth it.”
“All I know is that sex messes with your mind. If I’d never had sex with Conrad, I would have never ended up in over my head. I don’t ever want to put myself in that situation again. And it wasn’t even good sex. It was always about what he wanted. It was never really about me. And if that’s what bad sex can do to me, I’d hate to think how much good sex would addle my brain. With Conrad, it was exciting at the start, but I don’t think I ever—” I swallowed. Why was it difficult for me to admit it, even half cut? “I don’t think I ever really came with him.”
Tara got to her feet. “No fucking way! That selfish bastard. Who does he—” She stopped talking and sat back down abruptly, her face breaking into a wide smile. “Oh, hey Gabe.”
I assumed she was joking. “Haha, very funny, Tara.” There was no way Gabe was here. Not after how I had behaved the night before.
“Hey, Tara.” My heart stopped at the sound of his voice.
I froze as bursts of happiness surged through my chest. He came. He came back to me. More than anything, I wanted to turn, run into his arms, and immediately beg for his forgiveness. But I couldn’t do that. We couldn’t be together. It would be cruel to make him think otherwise. For both of us.
Gabe’s voice lowered when he spoke to me. “Hey, Syn.” My heart did a somersault at the sound of my name on his lips.
I turned slowly, bracing myself for the impact of seeing him. A wave of sadness hit me as soon as my eyes met his.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my expression blank and ignoring the confused look Tara shot my way. The cuffs of his jeans were worn and faded. His feet were bare. His hair hung loose around his shoulders. He tucked a strand behind his ear before stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“Can we talk?”
“I’m kind of busy right now,” I said, turning away so I wouldn’t be swayed by the sight of him. I splashed my feet in the water. I hated myself for what I had done to him last night, but it was best if we weren’t friends anymore. It was too complicated otherwise. I should have known better. I needed to be cruel to be kind.
Tara glared at me, then gave Gabe a hesitant smile.
“I think we need to talk,” Gabe tried again.
I squeezed my eyes shut, keeping my back turned to him. “Maybe later.”
“For fuck’s sake, Syn,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “What’s gotten into you?”
I stupidly turned to look at him, and immediately my resolve began to waver. I hated the way he was looking at me with such confusion and annoyance. I wanted to smooth the lines of worry from between his brows. I wanted to jump into his arms, kiss him, and beg him to take me to bed.
But I couldn’t. Or rather, I shouldn’t. A clean break was for the best. I had to keep telling myself that.
“Nothing’s gotten into me. I’m just chilling and having a few drinks with Tara.” I turned away and splashed my feet in the water again, feigning indifference.
“It’s fucking two o’clock in the afternoon.”
“Okay, Dad.” I laughed, but it sounded pathetic because I was being pathetic. I knew it. He knew it. Tara knew it.
I hated myself.
“If that’s how you want to play it, fine.”
He just stood there for a few moments. I knew because of the way Tara was looking at him apologetically. I, on the other hand, kept my eyes trained on the water. It had almost reached the minimum fill line.
“Seriously?” Gabe asked when I didn’t turn around. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”
I didn’t answer. It was better this way. It was easier if he hated me. I lifted my chin, trying to stop it from trembling as tears threatened but still didn’t turn to look at him. I couldn’t. I knew if I did, I would crumble.
“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he muttered before walking away.
I let myself slide down the side of the spa and sink into the cold water. I didn’t even react when the sharpness of the temperature took my breath away. I contemplated how long it would take for hypothermia to set in.
“Why did you do that?” Tara demanded as soon as Gabe was out of earshot.
“I told you. It wouldn’t work between us.” A shudder ran over me. The coldness began to seep into my body, removing the soothing numbness of the alcohol. “I need a top-up.” I held my glass out to Tara, but she merely stood and placed her hands on her hips.
“Call him,” she ordered. “Call him right now and apologize.”
“It’s better this way.” My voice cracked.
“You’re being stupid. That man never did anything but treat you well, and now you’re acting like an ass.”
“I know.”