"Are you mad at me?"
He looked up from the article he was reading. His blue eyes dove into hers, daring her to miss his sarcasm. "You know, I was at first, but it's okay now. I'll make sure I ask a couple days in advance if you want to hang out so you can pencil me in. Does that work for you?"
Nicole hissed in a deep sigh, preparing herself for... what she wasn't sure. An argument? They hadn't had one of those in a while. "Why are you being like this? You never used to mind if we hung out separately before."
"You weren't hanging out with your ex before, and I didn't have to see you doing it on the cover of a gossip rag on the way to lunch either."
"I wasn’t hanging out with my ex, I was hanging out with Trish, who just happens to date one of the guys in the band. They're kind of a package deal. Gabriel was one of the people there, but he wasn't the reason I went out. You can't believe everything you read, especially not when you live with the source.”
He didn't bother to answer. He simply closed his laptop, picked it up, and walked across the kitchen, his dress shoes tapping sharply on the tile floor.
"Travis, c'mon! You really gonna get upset with me over a stupid article?"
"Nope," he said picking up his briefcase and stuffing his portfolio, planner and laptop inside.
"We're just friends. Men and women can be friends, you know?"
"Sure they can."
"Like you and that bartender at Teddy's, the one who looks a little like Zoe Saldana? I don't say anything to you about her, even though she's got tits up to here, and her stomach is always showing, and she looks like she'd take you in the back room if I turned around for too long."
"Well, babe," he said with a tight smile, "when you put it like that I feel so much better. All I have to do is stop going to Teddy's and then you'll stop hanging out with your ex. Works for me."
Nicole was getting seriously pissed now, a look she hoped would show through in spite of the fluffy white robe and fuzzy matching slippers.
"Okay, Travis, explain to me why a normally rational, sane, intelligent man who used to trust me is suddenly showing possessive Cro-Magnon tendencies? Because, frankly, I don't get it—"
"There's an entire
box
of reasons why I'm upset, Nicole, stashed away in the top shelf of our closet. And as nice a guy as I am, I'm only going to keep my mouth shut for so long when I start seeing things I don't like."
Nicole's mouth dropped open somewhere around the mention of that stupid fucking box and never quite closed.
"Didn't think I knew about that, huh? Didn't think I knew why you were so tense when I went to go clean up the mess in our room after we got back that night, or why you were so relieved when I didn't let on that I knew."
"Travis—"
"Don't start backpedaling now. You wanted to know why an otherwise rational guy would be upset about you being around Gabriel more and more," he said, dumping out his coffee with an unceremonious splash against the shiny chrome wall of the sink before tossing his cup in. "What do expect me to do or say, Nikki? Am I just supposed to sit back and say nothing while a box full of your memories of him sits nestled in the middle of my house? Just like I'm not supposed to say anything about you spending more time with him, or that a tabloid seems to think you're hot and heavy? The truth is Gabriel would love for you to be. You got any answers for me? Because I'm dying to know how you think I should handle this. Or, is it safe to say I've put up with enough of this bullshit for one lifetime?"
Nicole knew he was beyond mad now. He very rarely cursed when he was trying to make an intelligent point.
It sounded worse than it was. Truly. Just some old things she'd held onto and had forgotten about. When it came time to pack everything up, she once again ran into her struggle with those memories of Gabriel. Part of her wanted to throw it all away. But another part of her would look at the pictures of that time with him and ache at the mere thought of discarding them. So she did what she had with her feelings for Gabe and her heartache in general. She put it in a box, taped it down, and tucked it in a dark corner. Out of sight, out of mind.
Now, completely out in the open.
"Nice. Nothing to say now?" But he didn't wait for her to speak. He went back to getting ready for his morning commute instead.
Her eyes roved over him as she followed behind him. His black hair was swept back from his forehead in neat waves, his dress shirt, tie, and slacks all varying shades of navy that made his eyes pop a bright summer blue. She was always a bit of a sucker for him in a suit. Something about seeing him dressed like a business man on the move, with the heat of his anger rolling off of him in waves, brought out her baser impulses. Why was she thinking about that now, of all the times in the world?'
"I wasn't trying to hide anything from you."
"Not that you could anyway. Us Weekly knows what you're up to these days, so if I want to know if you're out with Gabe I can just read about it."
She sighed. "I meant the box. It's not like that. I save things. I have most of my art projects from third grade in the basement of my parents' house, and I hated my third grade art teacher."
Travis practically sneered at the comparison.
"What I mean is that, yes, to the outside it looks like I'm holding onto him through those things. But it wasn't just him I broke up with, you know? The guys, the music and the books that reminded me of that time. Those are good memories; those were some amazing people in my life. And maybe one day I'll be able to throw it all away without a care because I've made a lot more important memories with you." She got some points for that when his eyes softened slightly. "But for now, it was enough for me to pack it up and tuck it away. It's like anything you save that isn't as important as it used to be."
Travis tilted his head, dropped his briefcase and leaned against the back of the couch. His arms were crossed over his chest, pulling the fabric taut over the lean muscle cording through his arms and stomach. She felt her thighs tighten slightly as his unyielding eyes bore into hers.
"You expect me to believe that pictures, clothes, and old books from your previous relationship have as much weight as a box of arts and crafts from when you were, like, eight, or my old baseball cards? Do I look I just hopped off a grade school bus to you?"
"You're not hearing what I'm saying! It's not about you, or even Gabe. It's about me and I have a right to keep things I want — or keep things to myself if I want — and not have my motives questioned.” She was pleading with him to understand. She had an eerie feeling, a strange sense of déjà vu, of having this conversation before. Only she was on the other side of things this time. "I didn't want to tell you about all that stuff because it's not as big a deal as you think it is. But I knew you would make it out to be, just like you did with my hair, and anything else I do that separates me from that time in my life. So when is my word going to be enough for you?"
"Probably around the time that
I
start being enough for
you
," he said, his lips forming a thin line of resentment. "I've done nothing but trust you, and hold you to your word, and give you space. Then you said you loved me. And that changes some things. Because if I take you at your word it means you are ready to move forward, not backward. Right?"
"Right," she said with a nod, taking a step closer to him. "I do love you, you know that, don't you?"
He turned his head to the side a bit. An almost imperceptible nod of the head showed he heard and was answering her question in the affirmative.
"And you know that a box of stuff and a few nights out with Trish is nothing compared to that? Don't you?" She took another step forward, and then another, until she was just one fuzzy lapel away from him.
To that he didn't nod. He turned his attention to the wall beyond her head instead. Quiet and still, not quite seething, but certainly upset.
"I choose you, T. Over and over again," she whispered, leaning up on her fuzzy toes to place an apologetic kiss on his lips. "And I absolutely love my choice."
She kissed him as fully as he would allow, nuzzled her nose against his and kissed him again. Each touch made him melt more and more. She wrapped his arms around her waist, pressed her body against his, and let her fingers dive into the soft waves of his black hair. In a matter of moments, the spark of their argument took flame and she was sighing against his lips. One of his strong hands rose to the back of her neck and squeezed, holding her in place while he bent her backwards with a rougher, dominant kiss. In a matter of seconds the gesture made her core melt. She couldn't pull away if she wanted to, could only gulp in a breath when he pulled away for air himself.
His free hand tugged the sash of her robe open, the fabric dangling like a fluffy curtain around her naked body.
"Who do you choose?" he asked quietly, his eyes soft, his voice gravelly and deep.
"You," she gasped as he spun her around, swept the robe off her skin and placed her in a sitting position on the back of the couch.
"Who do you love?" he demanded, his voice fiercer this time. His eyes blazed into hers as he undid his belt.
She shivered, her skin coming to life as he kissed her neck. She heard the weighty sound of his pants and underwear dropping to his feet, a belt buckle clanking against hardwood. He spread her legs wider.
"Who do you love, Nicole?" he asked, and this time it sounded like a plea against her lips, a question that had no sure answer. She never wanted that. She never wanted him to doubt her so much.
"You," she whispered against his ear. "I love you."
"I love you too, baby."
She closed her eyes, gasping as he surged forward and began to show her just how much.
Chapter Ten
Gabriel was in a daze.
It was to be expected that when he'd read his alter ego — himself in black print — he'd feel kind of strange. He'd been distracted by the album, hanging out, and just life in general. In preparation for this night, Nicole's book release party, he decided to finish her book and make sure he got her to sign a copy for him.
That was before he got done with it and realized he'd been symbolically kicked in the gonads via fiction. He kind of guessed just before Nicole's accident that he was reading a version of himself in one of the lead characters. The heat, passion, and friendship between the two protagonists screamed of his link to Nicole. It had warmed his heart and made him appreciate her all the more. She was a truly talented wordsmith.
And then shit took a twisted turn for the worse, which he also expected. That had been the hardest part to read, the separation of their alter egos reminding him of the real thing. It didn't get better from there. There was no happy ending, not for his character in the book. He literally sat silent and still for a good three or four minutes after he finished. The bewildered, "No, no, no," he’d repeated during the decline of the relationship had become a pained exclamation of, "What the fuck?" after the last words were read.
He hadn't expected the story to turn out this way. The girl – his girl – moving on. His alter ego, losing the girl forever instead of getting her back. The fact that he was at a party celebrating its release into the world, made him feel like he was in a sadistically fucked up version of the Twilight Zone. He could almost hear the damn music playing in his head when he read the last line and realized there were no more chapters. That the two people in the story who belonged together never retrieved the magic they lost. The magic they just let go without a fight.
And Nicole did nothing for his sense of sanity when he laid eyes on her for the first time that evening. She looked absolutely stunning. A woman fully coming into her own where so many times before he'd seen a gorgeous girl. This was her party, her time to shine because of her own accomplishments, and she handled it with the kind of grace that belied her reputation for being adorably klutzy at times.
The dress she wore tonight sealed it, and he knew he was never going to forget how beautiful she looked. Red, satiny, strapless fabric fanned out over her full breasts and hips. It cinched in at her hourglass waist and fell to just past mid-thigh, with a pair of gold heels and a gold cuff on her wrist to round out her look. She didn't need much else to make her skin glow, not when she was beaming, her bright smile and dark eyes catching the light in the room. Her hair, which was slowly starting to grow out, was swept to the side and flipped a little at the ends leaving just one piercing-laced ear exposed.
He knew she parted her hair that way to cover the scar that crept out about an inch and a half past her hairline from her fall. It still made her a bit self-conscious. He'd already told her she was still as gorgeous as ever, that it would heal and fade into her beautiful skin in time. He'd even run his fingers over the scar when they were out a couple of nights back, and his body had hummed to life when she grew still under his touch and licked her lips.
She still wanted him. He was sure of it. And that's what made shit like this so much harder. Watching her across the room with
him
, the other man in her life and in her story, reading her book that made it seem as if that was where she belonged. It was all some horrible form of karmic retribution. It had to be, because all the while he knew deep down that if he was given an opening, if he could just get her alone long enough to show her how much of that familiar magic they still had, he could get her back. He could make her sigh, and whisper, and scream how much she still wanted him. He could do things to her body that should be criminal. He'd make her beg for him to do them again and again, and then he would until she begged him to stop.
He sighed and took a long, mind-numbing swig of his drink. Vodka might not be able to help him out tonight. It'd been a while since he'd had sex, and it was really starting to fuck with his equilibrium. Everything she did and said made him think about her naked and gasping under him. He would scroll through the thousands of memories he had of fucking her into submission, taking every opening of her soft, curvy frame and filling it up with his come. The sound of her groans and the way his hand connected sharply with her supple flesh was the stuff that haunted him during idle moments of the day, and especially at night. A relatively popular, good-looking musician like him had pussy flying towards him every day, and all he could think about was getting inside of Nicole Langley's again.
"Okay, you have got to stop staring at her like that," Nuke said, exasperation tingeing his voice. "It's obvious what you're thinking and The Warden's got his eyes on you, so chill the fuck out."
Gabriel looked at Nuke with his most eloquent "shut the fuck up, man" expression and turned his attention back to the throng of people celebrating Nicole's first novel. And sure enough, Nuke was right. Travis' eyes were on him, triple-dog-daring Gabriel to look at his girl one more time like he wanted to take her in a back room and have his way with her in that pretty little red dress.
And as if taking on Travis' dare, his mind started to wander over all the things he could do if that fantasy were to become a reality. Would he turn her around and hike the skirt up over that delicious ass of hers? Or, would he pull down the top so he could he play with her breasts while she kneeled in front of him and sucked him between her full, red lips. Or, maybe he'd just lay her down on some dirty floor, dress be damned, and plow into her missionary style so he could watch her face while he made her come for him. He wouldn't even bother to peel off her panties before he took her... if she was even wearing any. Just shoving them to the side would be enough...
"Fuck..." he hissed, wiping a hand down his weary face. He was torturing himself and he couldn't stay here any longer. He didn't care if it looked bad. It would look worse to stand around staring at her like a hungry wolf eying an all-too-knowing-lamb, one that was practically begging him to eat her if he was reading the subliminal messages right. The tag-team ache of his cock and his heart was too much to bear.
He made his way over to her, and his heart leapt when her smile widened and she looked up at him the way she had so many times before. Like she was truly happy to see him.
"Hey you! Enjoying the party?" she asked. "Jackie did a pretty decent job, huh?"
"Yeah, she did," he said, eying the decorations, the displays of her book, and the well-dressed people munching on tiny delicacies and enjoying drinks from the bar. "All these people are here just for you."
"I know right? It's got to be a huge practical joke, or something." She giggled lightly, sweeping hair out of her eyes.
"Nah, everyone knows exactly why they're here. You did a great job and you deserve it," he said softly. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."
There was a wistful moment of silence, but it didn't last long. Gabriel had forgotten himself and this time Travis was there to catch him. He turned away from a peripheral conversation he'd been listening to and wrapped an arm around Nicole's waist.
"Yeah, we're all really proud of her. Nice of you to come out and show your support for the book. I know a busy musician like you should be off making music or trading in groupies, right?"
Gabriel watched Nicole bite her lip, a dark cloud drifting over the light in her onyx eyes.
"Yeah," Gabriel said with a good-natured smile, rubbing his chin to keep from clenching his fist. He swept his dark jacket and maroon shirt away from his waist and shoved the other hand into the pocket of his dark jeans. "Fucking fame-whores and making forgettable tunes is what it's all about. Nice to see you don't buy into clichés about the business and completely write people off, Travis. That's really thoughtful of you."
It was almost worth it to see the utter shock on both of their faces. Nicole's lips twitched upwards, and then she made an attempt to laugh off his words. But Travis wasn't willing to play that game, and tonight neither was Gabriel.
"I'd love to stay, Nicole, but I gotta..." He didn't even bother to lie and say he had somewhere to be. He was too weary. He just bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek and a hug. "Congratulations, Nicole. You did real good."
She looked up at him when he pulled away, her fingers clinging to the arms of his jacket and her eyes were pleading with him.
It almost broke his heart when she said, "You're leaving already?"
He wanted to take it back then, but that annoying fucker was practically waving him off, telling him he wasn't welcome here anymore and he knew Nicole wouldn't argue with him.
"Yeah. I'm sorry. But, um, I'll call you later, or something. Save me an autographed copy, okay?"
She nodded, and plastered on a smile. "Okay, I will."
And the truth was he didn't know if he even meant that or not. Why would he want an autographed copy of his own demise? Or, was it just another token from her that he wanted, a piece of her handwriting or proof she was thinking about him, that she once wanted him.
He walked out feeling like his skin was on too tight, like he couldn't breathe. He sensed something shifting in the air, but he couldn't touch it, he couldn't stop it. That smirk on her boyfriend's face, the book, his music, it was all a huge dose of truth that was painful going down, that sat heavy as lead in his gut and warned him that something was about to give.
"Gabe! Gabriel!?"
He turned just a few feet from the corner where he was about to hail a cab and saw Nicole shuffling in her heels to reach him faster.
She was holding her arms against the cold air, a slight shiver already passing over her soft limbs. Why hadn't he realized how cold it was?
"What are you doing out here? It's freezing, go back inside."
"I'm s-sorry about what he said in there. He d-didn't mean to be r-rude."
Gabriel sighed, shook his dark hair out of his eyes and peeled off his jacket. He draped it over her shoulders and tucked it tightly around her chin, moving her to side to let people pass them by. She looked so cute swallowed up in the fabric, rubbing herself inside of it for warmth, and he had to resist the urge to pull her to him and kiss heat back into her gorgeous body.
"Actually, sweetheart, I'm pretty sure he meant to be ruder, but he didn't want to upset you. And this is your night; you shouldn't be worried about him or me."
"But I a-am w-worried about... f-f-fuck me sideways, it's f-freezing out here!!" she muttered skipping from one foot to the other and shaking like she'd just taken a straight shot of strong alcohol.
He groaned and leaned his forehead against hers. "You can't say those words around me anymore, Nicole. At least not tonight."
"What words?" she asked. Then she caught his eyes and shuddered. Not from the cold either. "Oh. Oh, I'm—"
"You shouldn't be out here with me. He's going to get the wrong idea. Shit, he already does, doesn't he?"
She didn't answer that, but she didn't need to. It was clear there'd been talk of her relationship with Gabriel. Bad talks, like the ones in her book.
"But I didn't want you to leave upset or sad," she whispered, forcing the words out through clenched teeth to avoid the sound of them chattering. "I just want things to be okay. It's been going so well." She was barely talking to him now. She was convincing herself, a franticness in her voice that belied the certainty her words should hold.
He swallowed back his fear of the future and said, "Yeah, it has," even though the truth was he'd been circling the drain of his own private hell for months now, drawing closer and closer to that big, black hole at the bottom.
"Don't worry, okay? I talked to him," she said with a big grin and a sniffle. "It's gonna be alright. He just needs a little coaxing, a little smoothing over."
He nearly shattered his teeth thinking about how she might be able to coax Travis into not feeling threatened by him. He'd been privy to that kind of coaxing himself. He knew how powerful it felt.
His head was swimming. He was too close to her, and his mind circled too many dirty thoughts for this to be wise. He was stronger than this, stronger than his dick's acute urges.
All he could muster was, "Okay, Nic," his voice hoarse with longing, sadness, and a sense of foreboding he couldn't shake.
A plume of smoke from his mouth met hers, entwined and then floated up between them. His hands shook with the desire to pull her to him. Several cabs had already passed by. It would be so easy to end this torture. A tug and a few steps and they would be inside of one, huddling together in the warmth as they rode back to his place. He doubted he’d be able to wait that long to touch her though. He couldn’t help but imagine the show they’d give the cab driver as he lay her down in the back seat...
"You have to go. Now," he said through gritted teeth.
"Shit, I'm sorry. You must be so cold."
He swallowed hard, looked up just in time to see confirmation that she should go: Travis was at the doorway, waiting for her.
She followed his eyes, turned back to him and shook her head. "Men," she said.
A fitting sentiment for the kind of woman that could have two of them pitted against each other, a woman who didn't realize just how desirable and precious she was. She relinquished his jacket, and when he slid it back on he could feel her warmth, the sweet tendrils of her scent filling his nose and wrapping around his tortured member, teasing it into the fierce beginnings of true arousal.