Page 32 of Gabriel's Salvation

As we walk in, she immediately sits behind her desk, somehow looking even more authoritarian than she did before. I chose the chair directly opposite her desk. I notice how the light from the window behind me seems to glisten against the photo frames stacked on her desk. But Gabe stands, leaning against the door, legs crossed, arms folded, sporting his signature pissed off look.

"Sit down," I mouth silently, but Gabe just flips me off. I whip my head around to the principal, ready to apologize, but thankfully she's busy looking in her drawer of paperwork.

"Here it is," she suddenly says, pulling out a wad of paper.

"So tell me about your last school, so we can figure out what the best fit will be. I know you were held back, but how have things been since?"

"Well…." I begin before explaining all about what I've been doing these last few years and then follow her for a tour around the school.

Throughout the walk, Gabe looks around anxiously. I don't know what's wrong with him. I assume it's just old memories. Although, if I'm honest, he was hardly ever here anyway because of Dad, so I don't understand why he's acting so weird. The tour ends, and Gabe tries to convince me to leave again. I reluctantly agree and tell him I need to go into town, but he insists that he'll accompany me, so I tell him that I have plans to meet a girl for coffee. This seems to satisfy him, and he agrees to leave me alone and go on his way. I start walking towards town, but as soon as I see his bike go by, I turn around and head straight back to school. Part of me feels guilty for purposefully tricking Gabe, but I wasn't exactly lying when I said I intended to meet a girl. I just forgot to mention which girl and the fact that SHE currently has absolutely no idea she's meeting ME.

Chapter Twelve

Gabe

Iwake up mid morning with a bit of a start. Listening, I realize the house is quiet – too quiet. I worked really late last night helping John with the books and plans for expansion so by the time I got home, I collapsed in my bed without a second thought. But this morning I figured I wouldn’t be able to escape Nate. Why isn’t he making a bunch of noise trying to wake me up? Usually he would be bouncing off the walls dying to tell me about his new school or even his date. What’s going on?

I make my way to his bedroom and notice the door partly open. After getting no reply from calling his name, I push the door open and notice his bed is still made and his clothes are strewn across it from where he obviously tried on multiple outfits before heading out. Where the hell is he?

Scratching my head, I head to the kitchen hoping to see his coffee cup in the sink from this morning, but the coffee pot’s still full and unused on the side. How strange.

Did he not come home last night? The last time I saw him was when I left him at the school fair. He mentioned he was going to see some chick, but did he not come home? Must have gotten laid.

I pull out my phone and dial the number but it just rings.

Looking at the clock I realize it's barely 10 a.m., perhaps he's still asleep.

I jump in the shower, grinning when I notice lipstick smeared across my dick and remember how it got there. Knowing I’m alone, I begin pumping my cock to the memories of the other night, how amazing it was watching Stacey come undone for me, watching her body buck and shake as I brought her to orgasm, and how desperate I was to fuck her. My mind then begins fantasizing about what it would be like to fuck her. What positions I'd put her in and what noises she’d make. Finally with one great tug, I spray my load down the drain letting the water from the shower wash it away.

I get out, wrap a towel around myself and head towards the kitchen for a much needed coffee.

I make and enjoy my coffee then try to call Nate again. Once again, all I get is his voicemail.

I try texting him, hoping that if he's too busy to pick up his phone perhaps he’ll at least answer my texts.

11:15 a.m.

Nate, I haven't seen you since last night. Are you still alive?

I make myself another coffee and light up a cigarette in the backyard. When he still hasn't replied by the time I'm finished, I head back into his room. Perhaps he left a note or something.

11:45 a.m.

Your bed doesn't look slept in, so I'm guessing you slept in someone else's.

I'm sure he’s fine; he probably just got lucky with some slut last night. That will be it, I'm sure. I try telling myself, but it doesn't really work. So instead I throw on a hoodie, hop on my bike, and decide to head back into town. Perhaps he left early and is around town somewhere. He did say he was going to look for work. I bet that's what he's doing.

12:30 p.m.

Text me back bro, I'm getting worried.

I try him twice more over the next hour and by the time the clock hits 1:30 p.m., I'm officially past annoyed, and have fully moved into the panicked stage- What if something happened? I've only just got him back. I can't lose him again.

I check online, typing his name into the search engine.

Facebook, nothing. Twitter, nothing. Instagram, nothing. Nate never was big on social media, neither of us are. I'm about to give up when I notice a new friend notification. I click on it and spot some hot little redhead standing beside someone in a football jersey. I don't recognize either of them, but I continue scrolling. There are pictures of the same couple at a party. A video of them dancing to cheesy music. And them sharing some cotton candy. Well, this isn't much help. That is until I spot him. Nate, in the background of the picture. I continue scrolling and see more pictures of Nate. Nate with the guy, standing, grinning. Nate and the guy together in the bumper cars. Then I see Nate with his arm around a girl, not just any girl, but Isabella. Issa-fucking-bella, the devil in disguise. Clicking on the picture I see the caption. ‘Izzy and her Prince Charming’.

I try calling Nate again, this time leaving him an angry voice message telling him to call me back. I look at the picture again and notice Isabella has been tagged so click it and make my way to her profile next. On it, it's mostly pathetic pampered princess shit. ‘Had such a great day with Nana and Pops. Missed them so much.’ I want to vomit. Next there's a video with Isabella dancing around as she paints some pathetic picture on what I assume is her bedroom wall. I'm about to turn it off when I hear a voice. “Izzy, that looks amazing.” I know that voice. My fears are confirmed when I see Stacey come into the frame also holding a paintbrush. “Our girl is a fucking artist,” she coos to whomever is holding the camera.

---