Page 22 of Fragile

I stared back at him; it felt like his version of an olive branch and I took it.

With a shy smile, I said, “I wanted to be Margot Fontaine.”

“Who?” He quirked an eyebrow at that one.

My smile was automatic. “She was a famous dancer.”

“I see, maybe I’ll google her.”

“Maybe you should,” I replied, our eyes connecting us in every sense of the word.

I wondered fleetingly what it would be like to have a relationship with this boy, to see him look at me in an entirely different way.

What materialised in my thoughts fell short. For a future partner, I had high expectations. Yes, Gabriel was physically appealing and pushed those buttons but he was out for himself. His family had made him that way.

When I found the one, I wanted him to look at me like I was his reason for living. Something a girl could never expect from someone like the man who stood before me.

I shook off the thought. “Anyway—good luck with your studies. I’ll see you later, I suppose?”

A look of silent understanding flowed between us and I left it a beat or two before I turned away.

As I padded across the tiled flooring; I heard Gabriel’s soft reply. “You can count on it, kitten.”

Maybe he wasn’t as opposed to me living there as I had first thought? And then again, maybe not.

Four

Gabe

After walking into my kitchen and seeing Leonie’s lace-encased backside, I treated myself to another shower; long and cold to ease the torment of sexual frustration. The underwear she had been wearing had hugged the smooth pale cheeks of her arse and I’d had a vision of peeling those knickers down her perfectly toned legs.

Whilst sorting myself out under that chilling, unforgiving spray, I realised I hadn’t had sex for a couple of weeks, I’d been working too hard and the cracks were starting to show. Our new roommate had reduced me to the actions of a horny teenager, which so wasn’t me and I knew I had to release some tension.

Leonie had to have one of the prettiest bottoms I had ever seen. And fuck me, she was gutsy; standing before me in that short tee with her nipples pushing against the fabric. Did the girl not understand how the male mind worked? She had attempted to look unaffected by my bared chest but had done a pretty shitty job of that. I could see she was impressed, the light in her eyes hinting at her naked desire.

She made me want to fuck her like an animal. And it was now glaringly obvious that I needed some female company so I messaged Natalie, a fuck buddy of mine (and Max’s). I arranged to meet her that night for drinks and then, who knew? She was a clerk at the courthouse and was content with a no-strings relationship; there were no lies or false promises between us; we fucked and that was it. I needed to bury all thoughts about our new house guest from my mind otherwise, it just wasn’t going to work. And kicking her out after twenty-four hours would be a total dick move. Believe it or not, I wasn’t that much of a bastard.

Asher had risen from the dead and gone to college around an hour after Leonie had left and so I had the apartment to myself. As I set my stuff out on the dining room table, I noticed she had cleared up the crap me and the boys had left. I felt a twinge of remorse, I didn’t really want her to think she had to clean up after us.

For my own sanity, I threw myself into an intense session of cramming; a method of revision which had always worked for me in the past. I could hear the clock in the room ticking away the minutes and I genuinely started to worry. To say I was already in need of a break, I hadn’t done nearly enough work. Determination pumped through my veins; failure was not an option for me.

I needed to blow off some steam. The refurbishment of the gym in the basement of the building had recently been completed. Fuck it. Slamming the lid of my laptop closed, I pushed to my feet and stretched my arms over my head; tension was knotting my spine and I knew I needed to get physical.

After changing into shorts, I used my lunch hour to energise and wake myself the hell up on the treadmill, I then lifted weights. Not the cleverest idea without a spotter, but I didn’t have the time to wait for Max to answer his fricking phone.

When I got back upstairs, I felt more motivated and threw myself back into my revision. My positivity was soon shat on when I noticed I had nine missed calls from my old man. His persistence annoyed me, if I didn’t answer on the third call, I’m not there or I’m busy; deal with it.

I dropped my phone onto the table without calling him back. I couldn’t be dealing with his attempts to manipulate me into working for him. Not right then, I had bigger fish to fry.

Whilst I was halfway through attempting to memorise another criminal case study, the intercom went to say I had a visitor. Great. If it was Max, he was a little too late; unreliable motherfucker.

As I padded barefoot over to the screen, my guts felt like lead in my stomach as I saw who had come calling. Garrett Knight, aka dear old dad. He was standing on the pavement outside my building like a massive headache; two members of his security detail shadowing him. My spirits sank, the chances of getting anything else done had just nosedived. It appeared that further insight into the case of R v Dudley and Stephens (1884) and the defendant's decision to kill and eat Richard Parker would have to wait. Yep, I was studying criminal law and at times, you dealt with some fucked up stuff.

I buzzed him up. God knew why he’d pressed the intercom, considering he knew all the codes to access the building. I watched the screen as he opened the door into the lobby; Frank and Bex, his two minders remained outside looking exactly like what they were; the muscle. They couldn’t blend in if they tried.

I dashed a hand across my jaw as I waited for the lift to arrive on my floor; bracing myself for conflict. The exams I had looming over my head were stressing me the hell out and a stressed Gabe, wasn’t a productive Gabe.

What can I say? I wasn’t one of those guys that were in that stage of their lives where they needed to find themselves. I knew exactly who I was, warts and all.

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