Page 65 of Bad at Love

He scoffs again. “Who the hell do you think you are talking to me like that?”

“Who the hell do you think you are talking tohimlike that?” I respond, gesturing toward Gabriel.

How dare these people? Gabe is such a kind person, and here they are treating him like he’s a damn felon. I’d fully intended on being on my best behavior here. Even though the point in coming was for Gabriel to get back at his parents, I was not going to make this night worse for him. I was going to keep my mouth shut and just be here for him. But if they’re going to treat him like this? There is no way in hell I’m going to keep my mouth shut. My mother did not raise me to take shit or let people be bullied—even if it is his family.

“He’s my brother. I can talk to him however I like.”

“Some brother you are,” I comment, getting to my feet and looking him right in the face. We’re about the same height, buthe looks like he has a stick shoved up his ass. “If you were my brother, I’d be ashamed.”

“The only person who should be ashamed is Gabriel,” he seethes.

I shake my head, smiling but not because this is funny. It’s unbelievable how awful these people are. How do people survive like this?

“Come on,” I say, holding my hand out to Gabriel. He stares into his lap, not moving. But if I don’t get out of here, I’m going to punch someone. We’ve been here nearly ten minutes and there’s already an argument breaking out? It’s a good thing we’re in a private room.

“Gabriel, if you get up from this table and spoil this dinner more than you already have, consider yourself disowned,” his mother says flippantly, reaching for her wine.

I bark out a laugh. “Is that supposed to be a threat? Because I think it’s a relief.”

She gasps, hand going to her chest to clutch the pearls that are hanging from her neck. How fucking cliche. His father is glaring, face turning a strange shade of purple.

I grab Gabriel’s hand, breathing out a sigh of relief when he links his fingers with mine and holds on for dear life. Part of me thought he was going to stay, kiss their asses and deal with this bullshit because he’s too scared to stick up for himself. With a little tug, he gets to his feet.

“How dare you,” his mother hisses.

“You should leave,” his father says, getting to his feet.

“Oh, I plan on it.” I turn to face his brother, who is still standing there, shocked. “Get thefuckout of my way.”

His jaw drops, but he doesn’t move.

“Well, I’ve never in all my life!” His mother mutters. “The vulgarity.”

I move around Gabriel’s brother, whichever douchebag one he is, because he looks equally asshole-ish as the others. Their wives all look like they get their assholes bleached and fuck the pool boy. Fuck these people.

I make my way through the maze of tables, ignoring stares and whispers, gripping Gabe’s hand tighter so I don’t lose him. Not sure what all these people are talking about. We didn’t make that much of a scene, so they can’t be talking about that. Are theyallupset that two guys are holding hands? Is this seriously that much of a problem? I’m tempted to stop in the middle of the restaurant and make out with Gabriel for all to see—including his parents. If I knew it wouldn’t traumatize him, I would do it. But I won’t do that to him because it’ll only upset him more. He’s not in a state to handle something like that. That’s not who he is.

We finally make our way outside and to his car, where I dig the key out of his pocket and help him into the passenger seat, then get into the driver’s side. I start the car and adjust the seat and mirrors, but I don’t pull off. I take a moment to check on Gabe.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He’s staring at his feet, hands clasped together. He doesn’t respond. Though he looks calm, I know he’s not. I feel the anxiety flowing from him.

I shift sideways and gently take his face between my hands, making him look at me. He seems to react well when I do this.

“Are you okay?” I ask again, this time more firmly. Deeper. The way he said he needed me to do earlier.

He gives the smallest shake of his head.

“I’m going to get you home.”

There’s no response and his eyes go glossy. I brush my thumb along his cheek before dropping my hands and taking off. I set up the GPS on my phone before turning out of the parking lot.

The drive is quick, not much traffic at this time, and soon enough, we’re pulling into the driveway. I help Gabriel inside thehouse, to my room, and into bed. Mostly because I don’t know how he feels about me going into his room, and I don’t care if he’s in mine.

I get him undressed down to his briefs and tuck him in. He’s like a moldable mannequin, allowing me to move him however I need to get things done. And when he’s all comfortable in bed, I get myself undressed and climb in after him, pulling him to me. His body is warm, but he’s shivering and I can’t make sense of that. I glance at the clock. I have two hours before I have to leave for the airport, and I’m thankful I chose a late night flight.

I run my hand over his hair, kiss his forehead, and do everything I can think of to comfort him and make him feel better. This isn’t my thing and I’m not sure I’m doing it right, but I’m trying like hell. He isn’t freaking out or pushing me away, so I think that’s a good sign.

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