by Alexis Daria
Damn, who was she kidding? He was totally going to freak out.
If she told him, he’d refuse to get in her car. He might even turn right around and hop on a plane back to Los Angeles. Her whole plan hinged on keeping him close, so that’s what she’d do.
And hope he didn’t notice where she was driving.
It was wrong to trick him, but what else could she do? Despite repeated claims that her bathroom renovation would definitely be completed by now, her apartment still had no toilet.
As the line of cars and taxis pulled to a standstill, Michelle flipped her mirror down and looked herself right in the eye. “Do not let him see you sweat. He doesn’t deserve it.”
Better to make him sweat. Michelle unclipped her hair from its messy bun and let it tumble down over her shoulders and back. Then she grabbed a tube of lipstick out of her purse and freshened up her lips. The deep red was striking against her summer tan, and with her signature dramatic eye makeup, it created what Ava called her “witch look.”
By the time Michelle had finger-combed her dark locks and pouted at her reflection a few times, traffic had started moving again and she was feeling a little more confident.
Sure, she was an emotional mess inside, but at least she felt pretty.
The music stopped again.
“Text from Gabe,” her car said, and Michelle tensed as his words were repeated in a robotic voice. “Almost there.”
“This doesn’t have to be a big deal,” she told herself, speaking out loud as she navigated her way around a stopped rideshare SUV. “He’s here to work. It doesn’t have to be weird.”
She tapped on the wheel along with the music, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her gut.
If only she could talk to Ava and Jasmine about it instead of giving herself a pep talk alone in her car. Her best cousins, her Primas of Power, were her biggest support system. But for some reason, when it came to sex and relationships, Michelle just couldn’t open up to them.
It wasn’t fair. She gave them shit about not telling her when they were having romantic troubles. Yet, when it came to herself, she clammed up.
She could guess how they’d react, though. They’d tell her to stay away from him. She’d been a fucking wreck after he’d left for California. Her primas had stuck to her side the whole summer before college—the summer she’d planned to spend with Gabe.
The summer that might have gone differently after they’d kissed.
Not this time. She wouldn’t let him affect her like he had. This was for closure, and to assuage her curiosity. That was it. She’d pick him up, drive them home, and tomorrow they’d work on his project. She’d stay cool and she’d get the answers she deserved.
And maybe an apology too. It was the least the pendejo could do.
Even with her plan in mind, Michelle’s nerves sizzled as she approached the pickup area. A car in front of her pulled away from the curb and then . . . there he was.
Her heart thumped like it had taken a hit. He was . . . gorgeous. And here. Gabe was here!
Six feet of hard-muscled Latino Superman, with the deepest dimples you ever saw and the softest lips she’d ever kissed.
Michelle’s mouth literally watered at the sight of him. It was stupid. She’d looked up his gym’s Instagram account to get a sense of the brand, and it of course featured photos of Gabe, along with his business partner, Fabian. Gazing at Gabe’s sweet smile had broken her heart all over again, but she’d told herself it was better to be prepared. He’d been a hottie at eighteen, but back then, he was still just the boy next door, her best guy friend who’d somehow grown up to be cute.
But seeing him in person again, after all this time . . .
Yowza.
In black track pants and a white T-shirt that was unaccountably stylish on him, and the backward baseball cap that had always been his staple, Gabe was really, really ridiculously good-looking.
And he was searching for her, his dark eyes scanning the line of cars.
What would happen if she didn’t stop? If she just drove past him and went back home? It wasn’t too late. Gabe could hail a taxi, find a hotel, hire somebody else—maybe even Nathaniel—and Michelle could go back to her life as it was before she’d received his email.
And wonder “what if” for the rest of her days? No gracias.
Michelle tapped the horn to get his attention, then gave a little wave when he turned his head. She pulled the Fiat up to the curb and popped the trunk with shaking fingers.
Gabe moved around to the back of the car, rolling his gray hard-shell suitcase behind him.
Inside, Michelle turned down the music. Then she turned up the AC. And then, because she couldn’t stand it a second longer, she got out.
She hadn’t planned to. The LaGuardia curbside pickup was a logjam of cars and people and luggage, and it was best to get in and out as soon as possible. But she couldn’t take the thought of sitting next to him in the car without . . . something.
Gabe hefted the suitcase into the trunk with ease, then shut the hood. He turned as she came up beside him and without a word, Michelle reached up and threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug.
She hadn’t planned to do this either, but she couldn’t stop herself. She needed it.
His arms came around her, enveloping her in his embrace. It felt good, so freaking good.
Gabe still gave the best hugs.
He smelled good, too—clean and fresh, like soap. And his hug felt strong, warm, and safe.
But he wasn’t safe. She had to remember that.
From the feel of his body pressed to hers, Michelle noted the ways he’d changed. He’d grown a few inches taller than the last time she’d seen him, and put on . . . a lot of pounds of muscle. Holy hell. It was like being hugged by a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood wall. Or a marble statue, one of those sexy ones with defined muscles, an air of self-important boredom, and an accommodating fig leaf. Something without an ounce of softness, but you still wanted to cuddle up against it because the beauty was so staggering and alluring.
But it hurt too. Oh god, did it hurt. Heartbreak and longing and arousal and love and anger and sadness whirled around inside her like a tornado of conflicted feeling, fascinating and destructive.
He’d been her best friend. And he’d left her.
But it was hard to stay angry when he held her like this.
Just as Michelle became too aware of her breasts pressed to his hard chest, of her face nestled into his shoulder, and his breath on her neck, a car horn blasted behind her, making her jolt. She pulled away, dropping back down on her heels. And got her first good look at that handsome face.
Gabe had a jaw square and sharp enough to cut, with killer cheekbones leading down to dimples that could ruin your life. Dark eyes narrowed with a hint of wariness, and his thick, straight brows gave nothing away.
“Hi,” she said, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt.
“Hi.” His voice was deeper than it had been, and something about that made her want to cry. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“You’re welcome. Let’s go before somebody yells at us for being parked too long.”
She berated herself as she got back behind the wheel. That was real fucking stupid, Michelle. He hadn’t deserved that hug.
But she had. After all this time, it was the least of what she deserved.
GABE TRIED NOT to stare, but he was pretty sure he was doing a terrible job of it.
Part of him was positive this was all a huge mistake—coming back to New York, staying in Michelle’s apartment, hell, even opening a new gym. The other part just wanted Michelle in his arms again.
On the flight over, he’d tried to brace himself for how things might be different between them, preparing himself for an extremely awkward car ride to her place. But then she’d surprised him with a hug. He hadn’t expected it, but once his arms were around her, it had felt as natural as breathing.
He knew what it felt like to
hold her. Michelle was affectionate, and they’d hugged often when they were younger. And then, of course, there’d been that one time, the last time, when—
Gabe pinched his thigh to interrupt the memory. These pants wouldn’t hide a hard-on, and that’s what had gotten them into trouble in the first place.
He should’ve worn jeans. Or a cup. But he preferred comfortable clothes for travel, and he hadn’t expected to get turned on by Michelle immediately.
She was stunning, though. There was no denying that. Some things he remembered—the spill of long, dark hair. Honey-colored eyes. The smattering of light freckles across her nose and cheekbones. He tried not to think about the enticing swell of cleavage revealed by her tank top, or the way her faded blue jeans hugged her lush, round ass. Michelle had been sexy before—and his dirty teenage-boy mind had noted the changes as they’d grown up together—but now, he just wanted to take a bite out of her.
He’d always thought the phrase a body that wouldn’t quit sounded stupid. Looking at Michelle . . . he got it.
They were quiet as she navigated the traffic leaving the arrivals terminal at LaGuardia, but when they hit the highway, Gabe finally said what was on his mind.
“You look good, Mich.”
Her eyes cut away from the road for a second, giving him a quick, sweeping, up-and-down glance. Just as he thought she was going to say “You too,” her gaze returned to the road and she said, “I know.”
Gabe let out a low chuckle. It was such a Michelle thing to say. She’d always had an abundance of confidence. It was one of the things he used to adore—and even envy—about her.
“How was your flight?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained on the road.
“Not bad. I had the row to myself.”
She nodded. “Cool. Did you sleep?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Wasn’t tired.”
He’d also been too wired to relax enough to sleep. Instead, he’d caught up on emails and indulged in a few episodes of Spaced Out, the latest original sci-fi series on ScreenFlix.
If he could avoid seeing his family on this trip, he’d call it a success, but at least . . . at least things seemed to be going okay with Michelle.
She turned to peer out the back windows and Gabe finally got a good look at her shirt. It showed Queen Seravida, one of the lead characters from Beyond the Stars, a sci-fi TV series from the mid-aughts. It had been canceled after one season but had since attained a cult following.
Had Michelle worn that shirt on purpose? As a reminder of their shared history and the fanfic that had consumed their teenage years?
“I thought of you when she died,” he said.
Michelle frowned. “When who—oh.” She glanced down at her shirt. “Tamara Romero. Yeah, I was devastated.”
Me too, he thought. When he’d heard the news of the actress’s death, he’d thought of reaching out to Michelle. But he hadn’t done it.
“Are you still in contact with any of the others?” he asked, referring to their Beyond the Stars online fandom group from back in the day.
Michelle shook her head. “I’m Facebook friends with a few of them, but we don’t interact much. I don’t know what happened to the others—I never knew their real names.”
Gabe was quiet for a moment, remembering all the hours he and Michelle had devoted to their favorite fandom. “We never finished our story.”
“No, you didn’t.” She gave him a little smirk.
By the end, Gabe had basically been writing all the chapters of their fanfic with Michelle leaning over his shoulder, making comments and suggestions. Those had been some of the happiest moments of his teenage years, which was pretty fucking nerdy to admit, but it was true. Just the two of them, with all their inside jokes, making up a world of their own.
They’d been close to the end when he left. The plan had been to continue writing the story together while they were in college, but things hadn’t worked out that way. Just one more thing Gabe had abandoned when he’d left New York.
He peered out the window, idly scanning the signs along the side of the highway. And frowned. It had been a long time since he’d been here, but he was sure he remembered this route.
“This is the Whitestone Bridge.”
Michelle didn’t even blink. “Excellent deduction.”
“But you live in Manhattan.”
“Yup.”
“Shouldn’t we be taking a tunnel or something?”
“We would be . . . if we were going to Manhattan.”
Gabe stared at her impassive expression. “Michelle. Why aren’t we going to Manhattan if that’s where you live?”
She sighed. “Because I’m not staying there right now.”
His gut plummeted like he was on an out-of-control roller coaster. “Why not?”
“There’s no toilet,” she replied bluntly. “My bathroom renovation is taking twice as long as expected. They were supposed to be finished already, but you know how it goes.”
Gabe sucked in a breath as panic set in. No, they couldn’t be going where he thought they were going. “I’ll pay for a hotel. A suite. For both of us. You’ll have your own room. Room service. Open bar. Whatever you want.”
She snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would we stay in a hotel when I have a perfectly good house for us to use?”
House. Shit. That confirmed his suspicions.
Michelle was taking them to her parents’ house in the Bronx.
Suddenly the car felt even smaller as desperation kicked up his pulse. “Fine, then I’ll stay in a hotel. Drop me off somewhere. Anywhere. Side of the highway is fine. I’ll hitchhike.”
She shot him a dark glare, her mouth tightening into a hard line. “You agreed to stay with me. Since I’m staying at my parents’ house, that’s where you’re staying too.”
He narrowed his eyes back at her. “You did this on purpose.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, Gabe. I demanded that my contractors take extra time to renovate my bathroom just so I could trick you into staying at my parents’ house. I love not having a working toilet in my apartment. It’s the best.”
Sweat prickled Gabe’s forehead under the band of his cap. He adjusted it, trying to wipe it away, but more sprang up. “My parents live right next door to yours.”
She kept her eyes on the road. “So what?”
Gabe slumped as much as the seat belt and mediocre leg room would allow, as if someone else driving on the highway might recognize him and rat him out. “They can’t know I’m here.”
“Then don’t tell them.”
Trust Michelle to oversimplify the problem.
“I mean, I don’t want them to see me.”
“I hardly ever see them. It’ll be fine. We’ll keep you out of sight. Stop worrying so much.”
“What about your family? They’ll tell my parents the second they lay eyes on me.”
“My parents are in Florida at the beach house. No one else knows you’re here. Don’t murder me, ’kay?”
“You haven’t told anyone?” That surprised him. He was sure she would have at least told her cousins.
“No way.” She gave a mock shudder. “The last thing I need is all of them breathing down our necks. They’ll read too much into it and the next thing you know, my mother will be planning our wedding.”
She made it sound like a fate worse than death. But she was right. They’d already dodged enough invasive questions when they were younger. People assumed they would eventually get together, and while Gabe had dreamed about it often, it would never have worked. Michelle was firmly based in New York City, and Gabe couldn’t live here. Not even for her.
“You know I wouldn’t have agreed to stay with you if you’d told me we were going to the Bronx,” he said.
“Oh, I had a feeling,” she replied. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
Gabe threw up his hands. “This was a trap!”
“Okay, Admiral Ackbar, calm down.”
“Still with the Star Wars jokes, huh?”
She smirked. “You know it.”
“Well, it’s nice to see some things don’t change.”
Michelle was quiet for a long moment. “I’m not the one who changed.”
Direct hit. He was the one who’d lied, and then left. And she wasn’t going to let him forget it.
But he’d left for a reason. He’d stayed gone for a reason. And that reason was living in the house right next to the one she expected him to stay in for four days.
Fuck their agreement. He couldn’t do it. This was beyond what he could tolerate. He’d sleep there tonight, but in the morning? He was leaving to find a hotel.
No matter what Michelle said about it.
Sixteen years ago
Windows Messenger Chat Transcript
Celestial Destiny: Episode 1 Planning Session
Celestial Destiny: A Beyond the Stars Season 2 Fanfic
Episode 1
By BxGamer15 and ChelleBlockTango
Disclaimer: We don’t own the rights to Beyond the Stars, we’re just two fans who are mad that we finally got Latinos in spaaaaace but they were canceled after one season.
Gabe:
What the heck is up with your username?
Michelle:
It’s “Chelle” for my name plus the song “Cell Block Tango” from the musical Chicago. Have you seen it?
Gabe:
You know I haven’t.
Michelle:
Cool. We can watch it this weekend.
Gabe:
Can’t wait . . .
Michelle:
Is that sarcasm? From someone with the username Bronx Gamer 15 years old? Why don’t you add your social security number while you’re at it?
Gabe:
I take it back. Your username is awesome. Let’s move on.
Michelle:
Where should we start?
Gabe:
Zack escaped when he was young, so we should pick up where he is now, since we saw that glimpse of him right before the cliffhanger ending.