Page 12 of Gabriel's Album

I look at the table across the room, where a group of people in their late teens or early twenties are playing snooker. They’re whispering and glancing in our direction every now and then.

Damn. I don’t mind fans recognizing me, but I was having a nice night out with Ariana. I sigh deeply, and I’m disappointed by the need to distance myself from her. I move around the table so that my back is facing them.

“It’s still your shot,” I tell Ariana as I smile at her.

She smiles back and takes her turn. I’m surprised by how much I like her. She’s really sweet and genuine, but I can tell that she still sees me as a rock star, which is frustrating. People recognizing me when we’re out together won’t help that. I mean, obviously, Iama rock star, but I’m also a man. A man who thinks she’s sexy as fuck and is hoping that this date ends with us in bed together.

She’s slightly better after my lesson, but she only manages to sink one more ball before I sink the number eight in the corner pocket and win the game. The people at the other table are still looking over at us, and I’m completely on edge, waiting for them to come over and say something.

Ariana must have noticed because she asks me, “Do you want to leave?”

“Only if you don’t want to play another game,” I tell her, but I’m grateful that she’s the one who suggested it, so I’m not the person cutting our date short.

“No, I’m happy to go, plus I wouldn’t want to humiliate you by literally beating the pants off you in our next game.”

I can’t help but smile at her joke. We pay for that table and start walking back to my car. As soon as we’re in the fresh air, I can feel myself relax, and the tension leaves my body.

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t mind being recognized most of the time, but when people recognize you and don’t come up to you, it can get frustrating. You know that they know who you are, and they know that you know they know who you are, so they don’t want to make a fool of themselves. It’s like a stalemate. If they came over, said hello, and got an autograph or whatever, it would all be done with, but instead, I just get on edge waiting for them to actually come over. Anyway, listen to me. Poor little famous celebrity.”

“First world problems,” she agrees, and I laugh at her.

When we reach the car, I open the door before getting in and starting the engine. I start driving toward her apartment, and Ariana is quiet during the drive. I wonder what she’s thinking about, and I also wonder if she’ll invite me up. Should I ask her for a coffee or something? I’m not ready for our night to end.

Halfway to her apartment, the floodgates open up, and rain begins to pour from the sky in an uncharacteristically severe summer storm. By the time we pull up to the front of her apartment building, thunder has started crashing with lightning flashes in the distance.

“Do you want me to walk you to your door?” I ask her, hoping desperately that she’ll say yes.

She looks so beautiful and unsure as she thinks about it. I’m disappointed as hell when she answers my question.

“It’s probably best if you don’t. There’s no sense in both of us getting saturated.”

“Okay then,” I say.

I try not to give away how disappointed I am because I don’t want to push her too far, too fast. The whole rock star thing is obviously an issue for her, and it’s not like that’s going to change. She’s just sweet, and I wanted to spend more time with her tonight.

“I’ll talk to you later. Text me when you get home, so I know you’re safe,” she requests.

“Will do, sweetheart.”

I lean across the space between us to kiss her, and she kisses me back. This is a mistake. My will to be a gentleman for her is crumbling, and I madly want to throw her over my shoulder and drag her back to some cave.

I break our kiss while I still have some sensible thoughts in my brain and say, “I’ll see you later, Ari.”

She nods and opens the car door. She is completely saturated the moment she gets out of the car, and I hear the sound of raindrops hitting the leather seat before she slams the door shut and runs across the path and into her building. Not before I can see how the emerald-green dress is clinging to every curve of her body, though.

I drive slowly on the way home, partially because of the storm, but also because I can’t get the image of Ariana in that wet dress out of my mind. She looked just as good as she did the last time I saw her in a wet dress. I laugh, thinking that it’s funny how she keeps getting wet around me.

That thought immediately causes a shot of arousal that I feel directly in my crotch. Damn. She’s hot and funny and cute, and I forgot to organize a time for us to meet up again. I reach my apartment building, press a button on the remote in my center console, and pull my car into the garage.

When I get into my apartment, I groan at the complete silence and lack of any light. None of the electronics are running, and I’m unsurprised when I flick a light switch, only for nothing to happen.

I strip off my clothes and pull on some sweats. The storm is still raging, and occasionally a flash of lightning lights up the room. I grab my phone and relax on the bed before calling Ariana.

“Ari?” I ask when she answers.

As if someone else might be on the line. I’m an idiot.

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