Page 73 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me
Gabriel took the key out of the ignition and turned to me. “By these people, do you mean the Rogue Prophets are here?”
“Well, the Rogues are here. The prophet is dead.”
“God, I love you.” He was laughing so I wasn’t sure he meant itthatway.
I shoved my door open and hopped out of the weedmobile. The temperature was ten degrees cooler here and the air felt good on my overheated skin.
Gabriel grabbed our bags from the trunk, and we walked up the winding stone path through the tall grass and wildflowers.
“I meant that,” he said, snagging my hand to stop me and turning me to face him. “I love you.”
Above him the sky was a crisp, sharp blue and the sun on his face made his skin shimmer gold. I knew I loved him too, and had for a while, but this thing we had felt so big, so overwhelming and all-consuming that when I opened my mouth to speak, no words came out. Not a peep.
He put his finger over my lips. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.” He gave me a sweet kiss on the lips then bounded to the front door while I stood on the path, trying to process all the emotions those three little words churned up.
Gabriel loved me.
The most beautiful boy in the world loved me. Because he was. Beautiful and soulful and deep. Funny and affectionate and caring. Everything I’d always wanted in a man.
“Gabriel! Come in, come in,” my mom said, holding open the screen door. “I’m so glad you’re here. You can put the bags in the first bedroom on the right, just down that hall. Coming, Cleo?”
I walked through the front door in a daze and hugged my mom.
Gabriel returned to the living room and clapped his hands together. “Put me to work. What can I do to help?”
“He’s a really good dishwasher,” I said.
My mom laughed. “How about you make us a pitcher of Pimm’s.”
Gabriel had no idea what Pimm’s was, so I put him on fruit-cutting duty. While he cut up strawberries, I sliced thecucumbers. From the back screen door, I heard shrieks and hoots of laughter and a girl’s high-pitched scream.
“Oy, keep your hands off her, you smarmy git.” That sounded like Curtis.
“What are you doin’ with this wanker?” That would be Jeremy.
“I’m not a cunt like you. Tell him, love.”
It was the British invasion.
I heard the screen door open and slap shut, and then, “Baby Blue! How’s my favorite goddaughter?” I turned and Ian swept me off my feet. Literally. He was six foot four and built like a Viking with flowing dark hair and a beard. “Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He lowered me to my feet and held me at arms-length. “You look more and more like him every day.”
I sighed. It was going to be a long weekend. But I couldn’t help but smile. Out of the three remaining Rogue Prophets, Ian was my favorite. “Hey, Ian. Good to see you. Ian, this is Gabriel. My boyfriend,” I added.
Gabriel gave me a big smile. It was the first time I’d ever introduced him as my boyfriend.
Ian gave him a bro hug. There was a lot of back slapping. “So this is the voice of a generation.”
Gabriel visibly shuddered. “I would never claim that. Kurt Cobain already wears that crown and it doesn’t look like it’s doing him any favors.”
“No, I suppose not,” Ian said, scratching his beard. “But it’s not a title anyone asks for, is it? Did you bring your guitar?”
Gabriel shot me a look. “I didn’t know it was that kind of party.”
“Don’t worry about it, mate,” Ian said, slinging an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders like they were already best “mates.” “We’ll get you hooked up. You can use one of Nicky’s guitars.”
Gabriel looked like he was going to pass out. Jimmy Page wasn’t his only hero, I guess.
I elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re just with me because my dad was a rock star, aren’t you?”
