Page 31 of Reeling in Love

Finally, he shows some signs of life.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t take this off. I need your help.”

He gives a smile. I swear if he says any version of I told you so, I’m going to beat the hell out of him.

“Of course,” he says, holding me by the shoulder.

Just that simple touch sends my heart into a tizzy. He turns me around and, with a tender touch, gathers up my hair and moves it over my shoulder to the front, his fingers gently brushing my neck in the process. The sensation sends a trail of tingles down my back and I find myself holding my breath.

“Easy now,” he whispers, his breath warm against my wet skin as I see our reflection in the mirror ahead. He places one hand on my shoulder and tugs at the zipper with the other. It slides down smoothly, the sound almost deafening in the otherwise quiet house.

As the dress loosens, I feel an unexpected mix of vulnerability and trust. The zipper reaches the bottom, and his hand lingers for a moment, resting lightly on my back. His fingers trail up my spine, back to my shoulders.

With my back still to his front, he hooks his fingers under the straps of my dress and pushes it down my shoulders, my arms, down my waist. He stops for a bit as he rolls his finger around my navel before pushing the dress down my legs. He presses his mouth gently against the back of my neck and traces the line above the clasp of my bra.

“You sure you don’t need help with this?”

I stand there, in my underwear, under his gaze, completely turned on. I know the feeling of wetness I feel is not all water, and I hate that it’s Gabriel who’s causing this. He who is my friend. A friend, godammit.

“No. Thank you. I can manage the rest.”

He shrugs and bends his head to the side, his eyes never leaving me for an instant. “Well, just in case you need help with the rest, y’know, I’ll be right out.”

“No, thank you,” I say, as if that’s the limit of my vocabulary today.

He leaves without another word and shuts the door behind him, leaving me with my pounding heart and bursting veins.

I stand there for maybe twenty minutes, unmoving, unblinking, trying to understand what the hell just happened.

Finally, I turn on the shower and stand under the warm water, unable to understand why I’m suddenly reacting so strongly to him.

I walk out in a robe he’s placed on the vanity for me. He’s still sitting on the couch typing something on his phone. As soon as I walk past him, he stops midway and raises his head. I can feel his eyes moving from my feet slowly up to my face. He’s seen me thousands of times, but I’ve never felt so conscious under his scrutinizing gaze. Or maybe his gaze is still the same. It’s me who’s feeling his eyes burning into my skin through the robe, making every cell reverberate with desire.

“Ready for bed?” he says, standing up.

“Yeah... but... you’re not joining me, right?”

“No,” he replies a little too quickly. “Do you want me to?”

“You mean for... like for sex or whatever? Is that what you’re implying?”

“Me? No. No, of course not. Are you?” He tilts his head and stares at me with his eyebrows raised.

My eyes go wide and he laughs and opens the door to the guest room. Oh, thank heavens. It was only a joke.

I follow him inside, my brain not really sure what it wants.

He fluffs the pillows, helps me to bed as if I were a kid, and pulls the covers over me. He has already put some water on the nightstand, along with a few aspirins.

“I’ll check on you again in the morning, okay? If you need anything, just holler.”

“Um... Yeah. Thanks.”

“Wow! You’re really thanking me a lot, something you never usually do. Not even when I risked unpopularity for you back in school.”

The bed is super soft and comfortable and I’m already half asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. Some garbled words come out of my mouth before I pass out.

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