Page 35 of Forever & Always You
Austin’s breathing is labored as he shakes out his wet hair. He’s also shirtless, his T-shirt tucked over the waistband of his shorts, and his tanned skin is so damp with sweat that I’d be happy to abandon my pancakes and have him take me right here, right now. He seems surprised to see me eating breakfast in his kitchen, because I don’t quite get a smile out of him.
“Pancakes?” he asks, approaching.
I slide my plate down the center island to show off my expert pancake-making skills. “I can make you some if you’d like? I make a damn good pancake.”
“No, thanks.”
“And you have no maple syrup,” I point out. “Are you okay? Mentally?”
Austin shrugs. “Too sticky.”
Still no smile out of him. He disappears through the house and returns with a small towel, wiping down his face and drying off his hair. He won’t make eye contact with me, either, and I realize very, very quickly that something is wrong. The atmosphere between us feels sour, and perhaps I was right after all. The dynamic has changed, but I will myself to fight through the tension.
“How far did you run?” I ask casually, biting into another forkful of pancake.
“Twelve.”
“Miles?” I repeat in surprise. I can barely run down the block. “Twelve miles?”
Austin throws open the refrigerator. “That’s what I just said.”
Yeah, this is a problem. This isn’t the usual morning-after awkwardness. Austin is being exceptionally cold toward me, and I have no idea why. I thought we were past this. After last night,we definitely should be.
“Are we really doing this?” I ask, setting my fork down with aclinkand crossing my arms. Austin peers around the refrigerator door with a blank expression, like he has no clue what I’m talking about. “You’re really going to fuck me then ignore me the next morning?”
Austin shuts the refrigerator, a bottle of Gatorade in hand. “I’m not ignoring you, Gabrielle.”
And now he’s calling me by my full name again! I angrily roll my eyes. “Let’s not play this game. What’s the problem, Austin?”
He pulls out the stool on the opposite side of the center island and sits down across from me, finally meeting my eyes. Very flatly, he says, “Last night is clouding my judgment.”
“Okay. Explain,” I demand.
Austin flicks off the cap of the Gatorade and stares down at the bottle in his hand, his jaw visibly clenching as he mulls over his words before he commits to saying them out loud. “I want to forgive you, but not because you give me the things I only ever dreamed about. I want to forgive you because you earned it, and you don’t earn it by sneaking into my room.”
“Yeah, fuck you.” I scoot my chair back from the table and grab my plate.
Austin’s eyes widen in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Fuck you for believing I came to your room as some ploy to win you over.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I wanted to,” I hiss through gritted teeth. I don’t even want these damn pancakes anymore, so I tip them straight into the trash can and throw my plate into the sink. “You’re right. Ididn’tsee you as anything more than my best friend when we were kids, but something feels different this time around. I now appreciate everything you ever did for me, and I’m really impressed by you, because you’re kind of amazing. Iwanted to apologize, and then I wanted my best friend back, and now I think I want even more. I’m as confused as you are, but trust me when I say that last night wasn’t some sort of strategy.”
Austin presses his hands to his face and smothers a groan. “Why did you have to screw me over when we were younger, Gabby? What if your love language is fucking me over, huh?”
“Well, it’s not. It’s words of affirmation.”
Austin lifts his head. “Stop doing that.”
“What?”
“Being cute,” he says. “You weaken me so easily.”
“That’s kind of what I’m trying to achieve.” I give him a wry smile and then sigh, releasing the tension from my shoulders.
Things are complex with Austin, and if we are to fix our relationship, then our lines of communication need to be solid. I move around the island and stand in front of him, cupping his jaw in my hand. His skin is warm and flushed.
