Page 31 of Forever & Always You
I glance up, a lump in my throat. “I feel like the worst person in the world, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing right now? Fixing it?” His gaze is soft, too soft, and I don’t deserve it. “I’m here in front of you. I’m letting you eat my egg rolls in my kitchen. I’m giving you a chance, Gabrielle.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” he cuts in. Sighing, he grabs his plate of food and gets to his feet. He circles the table and repositions himself in the spot right next to me, scooting his chair in close and intently holding eye contact with me. “When I walked out and saw you sitting there in the lobby at the office yesterday, it was like a gunshot straight to the chest. My blood was boiling, because how dare you show up in my life again?”
I turn away because the truth in his words stings, but he immediately grabs my wrist the same way he always seems to when he wants my attention exclusively on him. I muster the strength to find his gaze once more.
“For as much as I’ve spent the past seven years hating you,” he says, hand still wrapped gently around my wrist, “I can’t deny that I like having you around again. That comes with a lot of mixed feelings which I’m trying to work through, but you’re doing okay so far, so relax. My blood temperature is moderate. I can look you in the eye, exactly like this, without wanting to throw my fist through the wall.” We both manage a tiny smile. “If I didn’twantto find a way to forgive you, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask, my throat so dry the words stick.
“Just keep being the Gabby I knew before. The goofy one, not the bitchy one,” he clarifies, then lets his gaze dip to his hand around my wrist. Before he lets go, he brushes his thumb overmy skin. “I’ve missed her.”
My skin feels electrified as I murmur, “I’m trying my best to find her.”
“Well, can you find her while we finish this food?” Austin asks with a grin. He picks up his chopsticks and clicks them together. “My duck’s getting cold.”
10
As predicted, there are enough leftovers to feed half an army. We give it our best shot, but I admit defeat when the sight of the egg rolls starts making me break out into a sweat rather than salivate with craving. We clear away the food and the dishes, then settle back in front of the TV to watch the next Marvel movie on my list,Avengers: Endgame.
I didn’t admit it to Austin, but my weekends are so often very boring. If I’m not working the bar, I’m alone in my apartment. Sometimes I go an entire day without saying a single word to anyone, so I speak out loud to myself just to ensure I haven’t lost my voice. There is nothing for me in Durham, but I know if I leave, I’ll never return to Duke to finish my degree. I’m clinging to whatever strings are left connecting me to the life I was supposed to have, but I’m hurtling toward a crossroad at full speed and I know sooner rather than later I will need to make some decisions about my future.
This exact moment in time, however, I’m just relieved not to be on my own for once. I didn’t realize how pathetic my life has become until I came home and had a good dose of hard truths. My father would be disappointed, my mother is embarrassed. Austin is the only one giving me a chance at redeeming myself,and I really need someone else to hold out some hope for me, because I’ve lost all of mine.
We share the blanket during the movie. We don’t touch, not really, but Austin’s still close enough to interfere with the natural rhythm of my heart. It’s almost a relief when the movie finally ends and he gets up to stretch, the hem of his T-shirt lifting to reveal the waistband of his boxers under his jeans. That’s when I question how unstable I really am, because I instantly want him to do it again. And again, and again, and again.
“You’re not one of those night owls who stays up till three, are you?” Austin asks, shutting off the TV. “Because I’m a Monday-to-Friday corporate man, so I’m very particular about maintaining a solid sleep schedule. If you want to stay up late, you’re more than welcome to, but I won’t be joining you.”
“You’re so mature,” I muse, unfurling the blanket from around my body. Maybe the fact that I have yet to graduate is why I seem permanently stuck in my youthful college mindset. And with my youthful college mindset comes an erratic sleep schedule. “But don’t worry, I also love early nights,” I lie.
Austin turns down the house for the night, locking doors, adjusting the thermostat, switching off lights, and then follows me up the stairs. Tension brews in the new silence as the impendinggoodnightsdangle over us. Even though I’ve spent the past two days with Austin, the idea of spending the night at his place seems a step too far, too fast. What if this is a ploy to murder me in my sleep? Lure me in with fake niceties, keeping his rage at bay, only to smother me with a pillow the second I close my eyes?
“You aren’t going to murder me during the night, are you?” I ask.
“Considered it,” Austin says. He pauses outside the door to the guest room, turning to face me. “No, Gabby, I won’t murderyou during the night. And no one else will, either. Alarm is all set.”
“Okay.” I nervously shift my weight back and forth from one foot to the other, my gaze darting everywhere but Austin. “So .?.?. Goodnight, then?”
“Goodnight, loser,” he says, pushing open the door to the guest room.
“Goodnight, loser,” I repeat.
“We really should think of a parting phrase that’s better than that.”
“Goodnight .?.?.” I tap my finger against my lips as I think, then in one spluttered string of words, suggest, “Austin-please-forgive-me?”
Every time he laughs, I want to think of a thousand more ways to make that sound come from him. “Goodnight,maybe-one-day.”
“I’ll take that,” I say, then slip past him into the guest room I’ve so kindly been given to stay in this weekend.
He clicks the door shut for me and it takes four and three quarters of a second for me to realize I wasn’t ready to say goodnight yet.
For as much as being around Austin reminds me of the mistakes I’ve made in the past and a version of myself I like to think I’ve left behind, being around him also makes me feel .?.?. optimistic. For the first time since my father passed, it feels almost like things are finally looking up. I want to chase that feeling, to sink into it.
Chewing my lip, I rummage through the shopping bags I dumped on the bed earlier in search of the silk PJs I picked out at the mall and grab my wash bag from my suitcase. In the bathroom, I get changed and sit on the toilet lid, knees bouncing with nervous energy, as I cleanse my face and brush my teeth. I work a comb through my curls, then crawl into the bed that I’mpretty sure has never been slept in.
