Chapter 19
CECILIA
Sitting on my desk the next day is a can of orange crush soda and next to said desk, in his own seat, is a very long, lean, and attractive Gabriel who I am adamantly trying not to gawk at but god, does he have to look so good?
It makes him impossible to ignore. Not that I’m trying to.
Today, at least. But I don’t want to stand here staring at him like a weirdo either.
Already I can feel my cheeks heating as I think back to what we did yesterday.
I cannot believe I let him do that to me.
And more surprising, that I enjoyed every second of it.
Swallowing hard, I drop my bag beside my desk and pick up the can of soda. “Is this yours?” I hold it out to him and he shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Nope. That’s for you.”
Huh? I’m more of a cherry cola girl, but I guess I could go for an orange soda every now and again.
“What’s the occasion?”
Gabriel chuckles. It’s this deep rumble in his chest that somehow vibrates through me. “Can’t you just accept the gift?” he asks, flashing me his pearly whites.
“Sure. But why am I receiving said gift?” I eye the can curiously, wondering what he’s playing at.
He shrugs. “It’s a can of Crush for my crush. It seemed fitting.”
“Awww…” That’s insanely cheesy but also really sweet.
Gabriel smirks, and I realize I must have said that out loud. Whoops. If my cheeks weren’t pink before, they certainly are now.
“I know,” he tells me. “I’m pretty smooth when I want to be.”
Rolling my eyes, I claim my seat and crack open the can, taking a sip. “I take it you do this with all the ladies?”
He scrunches his nose. “Hardly. I don’t make it a habit of chasing after chicks.”
“Only me?” I quip, unable to help myself.
“Only you,” he confirms.
Warmth fills my chest and I chew on my bottom lip. I don’t want to read too much into this. Gabriel is still a jock. Still someone who is most certainly not looking for a relationship and who cannot be trusted. Not with my heart.
Besides, I’m the girl who tried to kill herself. He’s just being nice. That’s all this is.
Thankfully, our teacher walks in, saving me from needing to come up with a response.
“How do you feel about grabbing lunch with my boys since we have some free time?” Gabriel says on our way out of class.
I got an email earlier this morning that my Diversity and Historical Oppression class was canceled.
My instructor’s wife is having a baby and I guess today is the lucky day.
Gabriel must have received the same email.
“Your boys?”
He tugs my bag from my arm and slings it over his shoulder.
“I can carry that,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says, still not giving it back. I roll my eyes and give in to his chivalrous ways. It is sort of nice not having to lug the darn thing.
With his free hand, Gabriel threads his fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. Butterflies decide to take up residence in my stomach, which is bad. Really bad. I move to untangle my hand from his, but in response, Gabriel tightens his grip and scowls down at me.
“Is there a problem?” he asks.
“People are looking,” I tell him, taking note of the curious looks we’re now receiving. I might not be in the in crowd anymore, but I’m in no way ignorant to Gabriel’s almost celebrity status at PacNorth University.
“So?”
“So!” What does he mean, so? “They’re going to get the wrong idea.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m hoping they get the right one.”
“And what is that, exactly?” He’s not saying what I think he’s saying, right?
I mean, there would be more of a conversation involved if he were, I would think.
A question, at the very least. Like, will you be my girlfriend?
Or can we go steady? Or whatever it is people call relationships these days.
I’d say no. Obviously. But if that’s what he was aiming for, he’d need to ask first, right? You can’t just assume.
“That you’re mine.”
“What?!”
Gabriel stops in the middle of the hall, completely ignorant or, at the very least, uncaring of the fact that we’re blocking traffic and people are having to move around us. Not that anyone seems to mind. They’re all too happy to get out of Gabriel’s way.
“Is there a problem?” he asks, irritation flicking across his features.
I untangle my hand from his and fold my arms protectively over my chest. Nostrils flaring, he matches my stance, folding his arms while leveling me with a deep scowl as he waits for an answer.
My body stiffens in defense and I shake my head, trying to shove back the urge to drop this and pretend it never happened. That I didn’t bring it up. I don’t want to fight with him. But I can’t seem to find it in me to let this go.
“You can’t just claim me all of a sudden because you feel like it,” I tell him.
His nostrils flare again and his gaze sharpens as if I’ve wronged him somehow. “Why not?”
“That’s not how things work.”
Anger flashes in his gaze, but just as quickly, it’s gone.
He’s good at that, I realize. Hiding his emotions when he wants to.
Sucking on his front teeth, he prowls closer toward me and, feeling very much like prey, I do what any reasonable person would.
I retreat. Taking several steps back, I try to create some distance, but Gabriel keeps pace with me until I have nowhere else to go and my back meets the smooth surface of the wall.
“How do things work then, Cecilia? Please,” he growls the words in my ear, and I shiver. “Explain it to me.” Pulling back just enough to once again meet my gaze, he quirks a single, arrogant brow.
“I—“
“Are you interested in someone else?” Based on the look on his face, he hates the idea of that just as much, if not more so, than I do.
“What? No!”
He nods his head. “Okay. Good.”
I roll my eyes.
“What’s the problem, then?”
“I—“ I don’t know, but I don’t know how to tell him that without sounding like an idiot.
Cupping my cheek in his palm, Gabriel brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. “I like you,” he says. “I know shit is complicated. I won’t pretend it isn’t, but I care. This isn’t just about the suicide.”
“It’s not?”
He shakes his head. “No. It might have started that way, but,” Gabriel sighs and presses his lips to my temple, “it’s more, now.
Let’s see where this goes. No pressure. No expectations.
I’m not trying to put labels on anything or make you uncomfortable.
I just want to spend time with you. Can we do that? ”
Chewing my lower lip, I nod.
“Cool. So, about lunch.”