Page 141 of Gabriel's Album

“I should’ve known.” I roll my eyes at her, amused that she’s so predictable.

She laughs as I get her drink and grab a beer for myself while she removes her suit jacket and sets it down on a table nearby. We move into the theater room and sit down on the sofa together, where I begin scrolling through Netflix on my phone for something we can watch.

“I dreamed about you last night.” I say it as casually as I can, as though this isn’t an incredibly intimate thing for me to admit to her.

Visions of her, naked and panting underneath me while we had sex, play through my mind. I can’t stop myself from running my eyes over her and appreciating the view. The blouse she’s wearing is well-fitted, and I can see the outline of her full breasts underneath it. Her skirt is modest and goes to about an inch above her knee, but I want nothing more than to rip those clothes off her and reacquaint myself with every inch of her creamy flesh.

“Do you dream about me often?” she asks in a husky voice, and I hear her breathing rate increase, which causes a shot of arousal to my crotch.

Shit. We’re just friends. I cannothave thoughts like this about her.

“Probably more than I should,” I admit before I turn my phone toward her, desperate to distract myself from all of the things I want to do to her. “What about this?”

I move closer to her so that she can see the screen better. This is a poor life choice, because I’m so close now that our knees are touching ever so slightly, and I can smell the vanilla scent from her perfume. I stare at her as she looks at my phone screen. Even though she’s not looking at me, I can see the signs of her arousal, and it’s incredibly erotic.

“Sure,” she breathes out quietly.

I order us pizza on my phone, and we talk while I do. I’m trying my hardest to keep in safe, platonic waters with her, so I tell her about the plans I have with the guys to have a songwriting retreat in October at Sebastian’s estate, and she fills me in on the holiday she saved up for and took to Venice last year.

“It looks awesome; I wish I could’ve been there,” I say, flipping through the pics on her phone.

My words hang in the air. The meaning behind them is obvious. It’s not a generic wish that I was on holiday somewhere; I want to have been onthisholiday. With her. Ariana’s lips curve downward, and I regret my words.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad,” I say, and give her a rueful smile. “I’m glad you had a great time. Let’s get this movie started.”

The pizza arrives about halfway through the movie. By the time it’s finished, the food is all gone, and we’ve had a second round of drinks as well. Everything about this evening is perfect and amazing.

I turn toward her on the sofa and ask, “So, what do you want to do now?”

“I don’t know. What did you have in mind?” she asks.

My knee is barely brushing hers, and I ache to have her in my arms again. A thousand erotic thoughts race through my mind, and I’m more than ready to take this to the bedroom.

“Plenty,” I reply, staring meaningfully at her as I say it.

She’s staring back at me, and her lips slightly part as she breathes in and out quickly. Her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes, and the desire I feel for her is overwhelming me. As I look at her, I notice that some of her hair has come loose from the elastic band holding it back.

“Your hair is falling out of your ponytail,” I say, and reach forward to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear.

The second my skin touches hers, my desire for her intensifies, and I’m about to pick her up and take her to my bedroom when she says something that makes me feel like a bucket of ice water has been dumped on my head.

“You have a girlfriend.”

I drop my arm immediately away from her and let it fall to my side. Guilt and shame immediately wash over me in a tidal wave. I am a fucking asshole.

“I have a girlfriend,” I reply in a dull voice.

“Does she know that I’m here tonight?” she asks with an accusing note to her voice.

I cringe and feel terrible admitting to her, “No, she doesn’t.”

Ariana sighs and asks, “Does she know that we’ve been texting?”

“Not really.”

I hate myself right now. I’ve been justifying everything I’ve done as though that would make this okay, but it’s really not. Ariana shakes her head, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply before slowly blowing the air out of her lungs.

She opens her eyes and fixes me with a sobering gaze. “Does she know that we saw each other at the concert?”

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