Toxic

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “It’s okay,” she said, surprising me. “You didn’t know. But now you know, so you’ll call him Park.”

  I didn’t want her calling me Park.

  It was too much.

  Too close.

  “Yup!” Saylor’s voice had a cheerful edge. “I’ll call him Park, though it sounds like he’s a car.”

  Princess laughed as Martha wheeled her off.

  When Princess was out of earshot I grabbed Saylor’s arm and took her out the doors on the opposite end of the room — the ones that lead outside to the water. “Let’s take a walk.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  And we’re back to my original hypothesis — multiple personalities, well at least he named them. That had to be a good sign, right? —Saylor

  Saylor

  I followed Gabe silently out the doors into the crisp afternoon air. The home was nestled right up against Puget Sound. It had to have cost a fortune. It was prime real estate. Everywhere you looked you saw the tall buildings of downtown Seattle.

  I’d grown up in the area — but the view never ceased to take my breath away, or calm me down. There was just something about the ocean that made you feel small.

  It made you realize life was bigger than just you.

  And I was beginning to think I needed that reminder on a daily basis.

  “So…” Gabe thrust his hands into his pockets and fell into step along side me. “Wow, amazing. I can’t even come up with a lie that makes sense.”

  I shrugged. “So try the truth.”

  “Haven’t made a habit of that.” He stopped walking, and lifted his head. “That’s the truth.”

  “Maybe you should.” I swallowed and gave a half shrug. “Make a habit of it, I mean.”

  “Hmm.” He put his arm around my shoulders and in silence led me closer to the water.

  When we reached the edge, he bent over, picked up a rock, and threw it.

  He picked up another rock and examined it in his hand. “I used to be like this.”

  “A rock?” I lifted my eyebrows. “As in you used to be really buff and let yourself go recently or…?”

  Gabe threw his head back and laughed.

  Holy. Heaven on earth. I loved his laugh. I mean, at the moment I kind of hated him, but his laugh was… something else. It made me want to fall prey to his charms — but I knew better. He didn’t do nice. He just… did girls, which apparently worked well for him.

  “Cute.” He licked his lips, smile still in place. “No, but good to know my body ceases to impress you.”

  Oh, it impressed me. I just didn’t want to give him any ammo to embarrass me again.

  “I mean…” He bounced the rock in the palm of his hand. “I used to be solid like this. I was strong, unwavering, knew exactly what I wanted in life. But the thing is, I had no idea that I was in a bubble. I was on the shore where it was safe.”

  I took a step toward him. “What happened?”

  “Life.” He bounced the rock again, once, twice, a third time. “Circumstances out of my control, ones I thought I could control.” He shrugged and then sent the rock flying into the water, “Can you count the ripples?”

  “Ten?” I guessed. “Maybe more?”

  “More.” He nodded. “Because even when you no longer see the ripples, there’s still a vibration. I think so many of us go through life not realizing that when we get tossed like that, it’s no longer about us, but about everyone around us. The human condition is a type of infection. Selfishly, we’re under the impression that our bodies are our own, our thoughts, our actions — everything is all about our own choices, our own rights, to do whatever the hell we want and damn the consequences.”

  He shrugged. “Until.”

  With a curse, he looked down.

  I wasn’t sure what the heck I was doing, or why I was offering the olive branch when I’d rather hit him over the head with it. But I grabbed his free hand and pressed my palm against his.

  “Until,” he continued, seeming to draw strength from my touch, “something so horrific happens to you, or to someone you love, and suddenly you see the ripple effect of every single action and choice you’ve ever made. Sure my body’s mine to do with what I want, but the choices I make with it, still affect others. How I spend my time is my right — but in the end, it still affects those I don’t leave time for. There’s a yin and yang in life. But people seriously don’t ever realize it until it’s too late.”

  “And it’s too late? For you?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “It is.”

  We held hands in silence.

  I took a deep breath and blurted, “I don’t know what you’re going through or what’s in your past. Clearly I don’t even know what your name is.”

  He laughed again.

  “But, I do know what it’s like to have your choices affect others. My brother… growing up, he was confused. He had no idea how much we were all hurting for him, and it was… awful. And now, having the pressure put all on me to get an education, to graduate, to be perfect in every single area. I get the choices thing… I get what you’re saying, because my life hasn’t been my own for a very long time.”

  “Hmm,” Gabe whispered and looked down at our hands. “The perfect fit.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, it appears so.”

  “She calls me Parker…” He averted his gaze to the ground and squeezed my hand tighter. I held my breath, my heart pounding like crazy. “…because after her accident, that was the only part of my name she remembered. It’s still part of my full name, but not my first name.”

  “Because your first name is Gabe,” I said. “Right?”

  “Do you like fish?”

  “Huh?”

  Gabe released my hand and laughed. “Come on, either you like fish or you don’t.” His eyes were teasing as he bit down on his lip and crossed his arms. “I’m going to take you for fish.”

  “Uh, as in we’re going fishing, or we’re buying a goldfish?”

  Gabe shrugged and flashed me the same smile I’d been craving for two weeks. “Neither. Now, let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I think… I was letting her in. Is what that felt like? To talk to someone and have them actually get it? I mean I was as honest as I could be and she didn’t freak out, call me crazy, try to kiss me, shout my name, though I wouldn’t be against the shouting, she just… listened. I liked it. —Gabe H.

  Gabe

  “Where are we?” Saylor asked, getting out of the car. It was one of the rare days that I’d actually driven my car.

  A car that even Wes hadn’t sat in before.

  I usually let Lisa drive it around when she needed it, but for some reason, it was one of those days and I’d decided to use it instead of my bike.

  Saylor hadn’t said much when I told her to get in.

  Though I had to admit a bit of pride when her innocent eyes took in my BMW coupe.

  “Anthony’s,” I answered. “My favorite restaurant. I said fish, didn’t I?”

  Saylor froze. “But, Gabe, my clothes. I’m not exactly dressed for—”

  “You look perfect.” I shrugged. “Besides, who cares?”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Do we really need to rehash that conversation?”

  “I was pissed.” I looked away, shame washing over me. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “How do you get so many girls?” Saylor asked.

  I stumbled a bit. “Sorry, what?”

  “No.” She smiled. “I’m dead serious. You are seriously the worst smooth talker I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

  “False.” I snickered. “I could charm the dress off a nun — I just choose not to when I’m around you.”

  Her face fell.

  “Shit.” I wiped my face with my hands. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

  Yeah, or she was going to impale me on the sharp side of the swordfish decorating the wall.

  “With you…” I said, sighing. “I can just be me.�
�

  “A non-smooth talking jackass with shifty eyes?” she asked dryly.

  I winced. “Ouch. You beat all your dates beyond recognition, or is it just me?”

  “Just you.” Her smile was wide. God, I’d forgotten about that mouth of hers. And officially looking at anything but her mouth.

  My eyes lowered to her chin. Perfect. There was nothing attractive about chins. Except they were attached to mouths and, well, hell, right back where I started.

  “Can I help you?” The hostess asked.

  “Two for dinner.” I didn’t take my eyes off Saylor. I should have. But I didn’t want to, and it was a day of not wanting to do the things I’d been doing for four freaking years.

  So I continued staring.

  I was probably going to get slapped soon but whatever.

  The hostess handed us menus and filled our water glasses.

  Saylor took one look at her menu, slammed it closed, and paled. “Gabe, we don’t need to eat here. The fish… it’s like, really expensive and you’re a college student and—”

  “It’s fine.” I fought the urge to laugh out loud. I couldn’t spend all my money even if I wanted to. “Trust me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She crooked her finger for me to lean in.

  “Do you sell drugs?”

  “Holy shit!” I burst out laughing. “No! What the hell? Why would you think I sold drugs?”

  She winced. “Mood swings, nice car, money, er, yeah, I’m just going to disappear under the table now.”

  “I would love—” I accentuated the word love. “—to see what trouble you could get into under the table.”

  “Ah-ha!” She pointed her fork at me.

  I shoved it to the side.

  “There you go again!”

  “Go? I’m right here.”

  “No.” She set the fork down and picked up her knife. To be safe I leaned back. “You do this all the time.”

  “And by all the time you mean like in the last few times you’ve met me?”

  “Don’t be an ass,” she muttered.

  “You say ass funny, like you’re embarrassed you’re saying it.”

  “Ass.” This time it was loud, unapologetic, hot as hell. “Better?”

  “Yeah,” I croaked, felt it too.

  “And don’t try to get me off topic. You do that too.”

  “No idea what you’re talking about.” I lifted my napkin to my forehead and patted. I was officially sweating. It was like we were on Law and Order and I was on the bad side of the metal desk. Sitting in a metal chair. Balls to the metal. Wincing.

  “One minute you’re charming anything with a pulse, the next minute you look so angry you want to set me on fire, and then all of a sudden it’s like you snap out of it.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe I’m mentally unstable.”

  Saylor pointed the knife towards me, an unapologetic look on her face.

  “Hell, put the knife down, I was kidding.”

  Our waiter arrived. “Would you two like to hear the specials?”

  “Fish.” I watched Saylor’s expression with interest. She had a facial expression for everything. It was…distracting. “What’s the fish of the day?”

  “We have a lovely salmon that’s—”

  “Good.” I handed over the menus. “Two of those, and can you bring some bread and sparkling water?”

  “Sure. Salads?”

  “Caesar,” Saylor and I said in unison

  The waiter gave me a firm smile then, thankfully, left us in peace.

  “He’s so going to spit in our food,” Saylor groaned.

  “I’ve come to this restaurant for four years straight.”

  “Er…” Saylor nodded slowly. “Awesome. Good for you. Are you saying this is your booth? Or that you’re on a first name basis with the staff?”

  “Nobody. Not even Wes, orders a Caesar salad.”

  “So that was a test?” She squinted her cute little eyebrows together. Why did everything about her tempt me?

  I laughed. “Um no, but after the Caesar salad you’re going to be breathing fire for days. It’s basically the only way to make sure you don’t get kissed. Wes calls the salad the kiss of death.”

  “That’s not funny,” she grumbled.

  “Thank you!” I slammed the table with my hand. “I say no to death jokes. Bastard.”

  At that she grinned. “Well, all death jokes aside, I’m not worried about the kiss-of-death salad.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Sure.” She took a long sip of water and paused to answer, “Because I’m in no danger of getting kissed tonight.”

  Waving a flag in front of a bull. That was what she as doing, and she had no freaking idea that she’d just opened the gate. “Oh yeah? Says who?”

  “Me.” Saylor laughed. “You got the salad too, buddy. No way am I getting near that mouth of yours.”

  Her laugh was infectious. I joined with her, then clinked my water glass against hers. “To the kiss of death and fish.”

  She grinned. “To fish.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Getting comfortable with someone like Gabe was risky — especially considering our shaky start. But he was impossible to resist — especially when he was himself — something I noticed he hadn’t been a lot lately. —Saylor

  Saylor

  “Tell me one scary thing,” Gabe asked once we were in the car driving back toward campus. He’d called Wes to tell him that we’d gone out to dinner, and Lisa and Kiersten were more than happy to go pick up my car for me so he could take me home. I wasn’t sure if that was the girls playing matchmaker or just being nice.

  “Oooh, only one?” I teased.

  We’d spent three hours at the restaurant — and he’d actually behaved. Had it been Christmas, it would have been a Christmas miracle, like something you’d actually watch on TV. We didn’t fight, the insulting turned to teasing, and honestly it felt good.

  Everything except the fact that the more Gabe showed me of himself—

  The more I liked him.

  I was more comfortable hating him.

  “Only one.” He turned briefly toward me and flashed a gorgeous grin. A totally, mind-numbing, rock star grin. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe he just had one of those faces, or maybe he was just that gorgeous that my mind was playing tricks on me.

  “Performance anxiety,” I answered honestly. “I always mess up when I have to perform my pieces. My hands freeze up and I don’t know. It never fails. I’ll practice for hours on end and still nothing. I always end up messing it up. So I kind of hate large crowds or auditoriums and baby grand pianos.”

  “That was like five things.” Gabe pointed out.

  “Hey!”

  He patted my leg. “I’m kidding, Saylor.”

  That hand may as well have burned a hole through my jeans. I could feel him all the way down to my toes.

  As if noticing the effect he’d suddenly had on me, he jerked back and cleared his throat. “So, performance anxiety. I think I can help with that.”

  “I’ve pictured them naked. Doesn’t help,” I muttered lamely.

  “Clearly you’re not picturing the right naked people.”

  “Gabe, I could picture you naked and I’d still freak.”

  The easy smile froze on his face. Wrong thing to say. Why did I have to be such an idiot?

  And then the mask fell again and he shrugged. “Honey, if you saw me naked it wouldn’t be fear causing you to mess up the notes, trust me.”

  “Cocky.”

  “Absolutely,” he said quickly. “Although according to some, I’ve let myself go.”

  “Let it go. Will I ever live that down now?”

  “Probably not.” He chuckled as we pulled into the freshman dorms parking lot. “But seriously.” He turned off the car. “Let me help.”

  I sighed. “Gabe, look… tonight was fun, right?”

  “Yeah.” His brows knit together as
if confused. “Of course it was.”

  “And I really had fun with you.” I chewed my lower lip. “But last time we were in a practice room together, things got ugly. You were—”

  “—not myself,” he inserted smoothly. “And I was pissed — not at you, just life. Wrong place, wrong time…”

  “Twice in a row?”

  He winced. “Afraid so.”

  Logic told me to say no. Let it end here. Draw a line in the sand, so that we both knew where we stood. We were barely friends, and I would already be seeing him on a weekly basis because of the whole volunteer thing.

  “Saylor…” His eyes pleaded with me. “Let me make it up to you.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “At least let me make up for five of them.”

  “Five?” I shook my head. “Five what?”

  “Tears.” He swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he leaned in and brushed his thumb across my lips. “Let me make up for five of them. I know there were a hell of a lot more. All I’m asking for is five.”

  “And then…”

  “Give me the five tears… the five chances…” He sighed. Warmth radiated from him. “And then I’ll leave you alone.”

  I looked at his lips then back at his eyes. “Okay. Five.” I reached for the handle to get out of the car, but he grabbed my other hand holding me in my spot.

  “And just in case it wasn’t clear…” he whispered, his eyes taking on that dark hue I craved. “You really are.”

  “Are what?”

  “Downright. Beautiful. And I’m sorry.” He released my hand. Slowly, I inched out of the car and walked in a daze back to my dorm room.

  I was half-tempted to bang my head against the brick wall too. Was tonight a dream? It sure felt like it, because the impossible had just happened.

  Gabe had flown down to the pits of hell, bargained for his soul back, won, and returned to make amends.

  Huh. Apparently miracles did happen.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I was whistling. Dear God save us all from such a fate. When grown men whistle you know something’s up. Yet, I couldn’t find it in me to stop… whistling or smiling. And for the first time in years when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t wince. I… smiled. —Gabe H.