Chapter 27
GAbrIEL
“Gabe, man. You gotta talk about this,” Felix says, concern creasing his forehead as he lingers in my doorway.
“I’m fine,” I grunt, shoulders hunched without looking up. No way in hell am I about to rehash how Cecilia ripped my heart out and stomped on the pieces.
Sharing my fucking feelings isn’t going to make what I’m dealing with any better. In fact, I’m ninety-nine-point-nine-percent positive it will only make things worse.
Felix steps further into my room, persistent bastard that he is. “You’ve been a ghost for weeks. I know something happened with you and Cecilia, but when any of us so much as says her name, you either bite our heads off or you shut down. What gives?”
I rake both hands through my hair, emotions churning violently in my gut. That’s because she ended things. What a fucking joke. I don’t even know why I’m so torn up about this. About her. It doesn’t make any sense. But nothing about my feelings for Cecilia made sense. They didn’t need to.
She was just … fuck. I don’t even know. She was her, and I was me, and together, we fit. We just fucking fit.
I told her I loved her. Me. I said those three fucking words. Words I’ve never said to any other girl before. I handed her my still-beating heart and let her carve it up as she saw fit, trusting that she felt the same way I did.
Idiot.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I trusted the girl who snuck beneath my armor when no one else could. And when I laid myself bare at her feet, she told me to walk away. Like severing this connection between us is so damn easy.
Maybe for her, it is. But it’s not like that for me.
I can’t stop caring about her with the flip of a switch. If it was that easy, I wouldn’t feel like this. Like my fucking soul is cannibalizing itself, leaving behind a gaping wound in my chest.
I fucking hate it.
I rub at the ache beneath my ribs, desperate to ease some of the pain.
We weren’t dating. She wasn’t my girlfriend. We were just … fuck.
Even now, I don’t know how to describe what we were.
And a part of me thinks I never needed to.
I didn’t need a label to know it was special.
That what was going on between us was different.
More than anything I’d ever had before with another woman.
But for some irrational reason, it sort of pisses me off that I can’t even call her my ex.
As far as anyone else can tell, we were never anything.
“Just leave it alone,” I snap, hands clenching at my sides to hide their faint tremor. I can't keep reliving the worst day of my goddamn life. Not if I want to keep what's left of my sanity.
Heavy footfalls sound down the hall before Julio—another of my roommates—fills the doorway just behind Felix, brow furrowed. The combined weight of their stares makes my skin prickle uncomfortably.
Christ. They’re turning into mother fucking hens.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath, shoulders tensing. There goes any chance at privacy. I’m trying to sort through the tangled mess in my head, and I don’t need a goddamn audience for it.
The weekends are the only reprieve I get from seeing her, and this weekend came and went too goddamn fast.
I’m trying to amp myself up for today—Monday—and these assholes won’t leave me the hell alone.
“You’ve been moping around for weeks,” Julio says bluntly, always one to cut right to the chase. The guy doesn’t even start off with a good morning. “You’re not the only one who lives here, cabrón.” —fucker— “So, spill. Why have you been an absolute dick, lately?”
I flip my best friends off, jaw tight. I don’t care if I’m being a moody bastard right now. I think I’ve earned the right to work through this on my own terms, without either of them scrutinizing my every move.
Julio’s dark eyes flash with frustration, clearly not on the same page.
“Can you at least pretend to be a functioning human long enough to welcome Deacon? The guy you invited to move into nuestra casita.” —our home— “He’s going to be here any minute and you need to get whatever stick you have up your ass, out. ”
Shit.
I forgot he was moving in today. I scrub my hand over my face and try like hell to shove my feelings back into their box.
Deacon’s a freshman transfer from Suncrest U. We met when he helped friends of ours fork our soccer field.
A prank in retaliation for one of Julio’s fuck ups. I silently eye the fucker. Maybe I should remind him of how not so long ago he was dealing with a mess of his own, too. And what did he do when Felix and I suggested we hash it out?
He told us to back the fuck off.
And we did.
I’d love to give the asshole a reminder, but knowing Julio the way that I do, it would just make him dig deeper. He’s a stubborn bastard like that. Always wanting to peel back everyone’s fucking trauma, except for his own.
I sigh. The Deacon thing can’t be avoided. I made a bet with the guy after he helped Allie, Bibiana, and Kasey fork our field. If he scored a goal against me, we’d clean up their mess. If he missed, they were cleaning up after themselves.
Long story short, he scored. Talk about a blow to my fucking ego. But after seeing the guy’s kick, we recruited him onto our team. Who knew the cocky footballer would be a legit fútboler.
Convincing him to change sports and switch schools seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I’m not so sure. The timing is absolute shit if you ask me.
The idea of slapping on a polite smile as I make stilted small talk makes my insides twist up even more. I can’t handle this shit. Not today. Not when I have to see her in less than an hour.
Low voices drift down the hall as the front door opens.
It’s Atticus—roommate number three—giving Deacon the grand tour.
I should make an effort to welcome the guy.
I know that. But the mere idea of exchanging pleasantries and pretending I’m not imploding on the inside feels fucking impossible right now.
Fuck. When did I become such a little bitch?
I’ve been through tough shit before. Carlos’s suicide. My parents divorce. Real shit.
So why the hell is it so goddamn hard to function now?
I stare out my bedroom window. The sun is shining. The autumn leaves have turned from green to a multitude of yellows, reds, and oranges.
By all accounts it’s a beautiful day.
And it’s a lie.
How can I act like everything’s fine when it fucking isn’t? When every word out of Cecilia’s mouth echoes endlessly inside of my head?
“And this is Gabe’s room,” Atticus tells him once they reach my door. “Hey, man,” Atticus greets me, hand raised in the air.
Breathe, I tell myself. Say hello. It’s not that hard. Only … it is.
My molars grind together, jaw locked tight.
Felix jumps to the rescue, playing the gracious host while I avoid eye contact and remain stubbornly silent. Fuck this shit.
“Hey! Atticus giving you the grand tour?” Felix asks. “Has he shown you the garage? No?”
Deacon responds, but I can’t make out his words over the ringing in my ears. I don’t want to do this. I’m not ready to see her again. I need more time.
“Bro, it’s perfection. We always kick it in there. Come on, I’ll—” Their voices fade as Felix steers Deacon and Atticus down the hallway and toward the back door, granting me a temporary reprieve.
A second later, the door clicks shut, leaving me alone with Julio’s scrutinizing stare once more. He stays propped just inside my doorway, the wooden door closed at his back and his tattooed arms crossed over his chest.
The weight of his gaze bores into me as the silence stretches tight.
I grit my teeth, resentment simmering beneath my skin. It’s not that much to ask to be left alone.
“Get your shit together, man,” Julio says, tone harsh with judgment.
I bristle, hands clenched into fists at my sides. “You don’t know what I’m dealing with, J,” I fire back.
Julio has no goddamn idea what it’s like to put yourself out there.
To lay your feelings bare, only to have them stomped on and dismissed without a second thought.
How could he? The guy hasn’t been in a serious relationship in …
well, ever. And whatever spark he did have with a certain someone—she who will not be named—he snuffed out.
It was his call. His choice.
I wasn’t afforded that luxury.
Julio steps further into the room, eyes searching mine for answers I don’t have. “Then talk to me. I’ve always had your back, but I can’t do anything if you shut me and everyone else out.”
I scrub both hands roughly down my face, throat tightening around all the things I want to say, but can’t seem to voice.
He’s not wrong. I’ve been pushing him and the others away when I know all they want is to help me. Problem is, I don’t want their help. I don’t want to deal with any of this.
“I don’t even know how to process this myself right now,” I force out hoarsely, unable to meet his gaze. “Let alone talk through it. What Cecilia said ...” I trail off, shaking my head as the echo of her words threatens to drag me back down into the abyss.
Fuck.
What is wrong with me? I don’t get like this. Not over a girl. I’m not this guy. Never have been. So why the fuck is this shit hitting me so goddamn hard?
Julio grips my shoulder, his palm rough and warm. Grounding. “Tell me what happened, man. Start there.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I shake my head.
“Come on, man. Try.” Knowing Julio, he’s going to keep poking until I cave. May as well get it over with now and just tear off the damn band-aid.
“She ended things. Said she didn’t want this. Didn’t want me.” I repeat Cecilia’s speech aloud for the first time, and with each word I say, I watch as Julio’s expression sinks more and more into one of pity.
I don’t want his pity. Though it’s obvious I have it.
I force out the last of my words, making sure to get it all out. If pushed again, I won’t be able to rehash this shit a second time. Just voicing her rejection aloud leaves me raw. Wounded.
But there it is. All of it. I don’t leave a single detail out.