by Alexis Daria
Michelle:
Did they ever say where he’d been hiding?
Gabe:
No. I guess they were going to show it as flashbacks in season 2?
Michelle:
Okay, well, if YOU were a prince with a murderous dad whose mom had just faked her own death, where would you go?
Gabe:
Hmm . . . The Mos Eisley Cantina.
Michelle:
LOL this isn’t Star Wars! They’re not in a galaxy far, far away!
Gabe:
Yeah, but somewhere like Tatooine seems like a good place to disappear. Worked for Obi-Wan, right? Everyone has secrets and no one’s gonna ask too many questions. Maybe Zack became a bartender. He hears all the gossip but he’s basically invisible to everyone around him.
Michelle:
Can Riva be a bounty hunter now? And Queen Seravida, who is also in hiding, hires her to find Zack.
Gabe:
Does Zack recognize Riva?
Michelle:
Maybe not immediately, but they were best friends, even though she was a commoner. Part of him would recognize her, right? I mean, I’d recognize you, even if years had passed.
Gabe:
Same. Riva finds him, but he doesn’t go quietly. He thinks his father is the one who hired her.
Michelle:
Then Riva tackles him, stuns him, and drags him to her ship.
Gabe:
Um, Zack is a trained fighter. And the actor is like half a foot taller. How is Riva doing all that?
Michelle:
Hello, she’s a badass bounty hunter who never loses a target. Besides, she’s his BFF, so his guards are down.
Gabe:
Fine. So he’s like, “Tell my father I’m never going back.” And she’s like, “I would, but it was your mother who hired me.”
Michelle:
And then he’s like, “AY DIOS MÍO, my mami is alive?!”
Gabe:
Uh, maybe not exactly like that.
Michelle:
And Riva stuns him anyway!
Gabe:
Of course she does . . .
Chapter 5
Gabe kept his gaze glued to the windows as they exited the highway at Pelham Parkway and drove down the tree-lined avenue through the streets of the Bronx to their old neighborhood. Faded memories clashed with the reality lit by yellow streetlights. There was something disconcerting about being back—an underlying sense of comfort, but also of wrongness. He didn’t belong here.
As they turned off Eastchester Road onto Morris Park, he twisted in his seat to look out the window at a familiar green-and-white logo.
“Was that a Starbucks?”
Michelle let out a muffled snicker. “Yes, Gabe. Even the Bronx has Starbucks now.”
As they crossed Williamsbridge Road, Gabe was hit with a pang of grief. That was where his father’s stationery store had been before it’d closed, shortly after Gabe left for college in California.
That move—along with the way he’d dropped the news—had been the beginning of the end of his relationship with his parents.
It had been right after Michelle ripped up his flight printout and kicked him out of her room. He’d gone home to pack and make dinner, and he’d blurted it out the second his dad was done eating.
I’m going to California.
His parents hadn’t been happy, to say the least. The shouting match that followed had spanned two languages and countless old arguments about school, Gabe’s choices, and family obligations. His father had dismissed Gabe’s accomplishments—like graduating with honors and getting a scholarship to UCLA were nothing—and his mother had called Gabe ungrateful.
And then he and his father had their last big fight about the stationery shop.
You are part of a family, Gabriel. Families make decisions together. You need to stay here and help with the store.
Pop, the store is going under. It’s only a matter of time.
The store will be fine if you help—
Nothing I do is going to help the store!
It would if you tried!
The store is your dream, Pop. I’m going after mine.
To do what? Play baseball? What are you going to do, join the Yankees?
I don’t know. But it’s not working at a card shop in the Bronx. I’m leaving. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.
Gabe had seen them a few more times after that, but it had only gotten worse. After the incident at his sister’s wedding, he’d been done with his parents for good.
Michelle turned on their street, and Gabe’s pulse spiked. Familiar houses, barely changed in the last decade, pinged his memory one after the other, each a little pinprick of grief.
No. There was no way he could spend four days here. It would kill him.
Who was it who’d said “You can never go home again”? Whoever it was, they were right. This wasn’t his home anymore. And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—go back.
The Amato and Aguilar families lived on a block with a few small stand-alone houses—a combo of red brick and aluminum siding—that had driveways, but no garages. Predominantly an Italian neighborhood, the demographic had shifted a bit over the years Gabe had lived there. He had no idea what it was like now, except that his Puerto Rican and Mexican parents and Michelle’s Puerto Rican and Italian parents still lived there. Michelle’s mother was one of the reasons his own mom felt comfortable moving next door.
After Gabe left for the last time, the only person he’d stayed in touch with was his older sister, Nicole.
Nikki was a mom now, with two children—Oliver, who was seven, and Lucy, who was nine and had transitioned two years earlier. Gabe had met his niece and nephew for the first time when Nikki had taken the kids to Disneyland. Gabe bought their tickets, since they’d made the longer flight to Disneyland in California, as opposed to Walt Disney World in Florida, just to see him. It was the first time he’d seen Nikki in person since her wedding, and he’d had fun with her and the kids. And when Nikki and her husband, Patrick, took a family trip to Colorado, Gabe had flown out to join them.
He FaceTimed with Lucy and Oliver regularly, but when he thought about his own uncles, he couldn’t help but feel like he was remiss in his Tío Duties. Tío Marco, Gabe’s godfather, had always been around when he was a kid. His father’s younger brother, Marco, had helped Gabe’s parents when they’d moved to this neighborhood, had picked Gabe up from baseball practice and gone to his games, and intervened when Gabe’s dad got on his case about working more hours in the stationery store.
Stop thinking about the store, Gabe told himself. It would only make this worse.
As Michelle pulled into the driveway of her family’s house, Gabe scrunched down as much as he was able to. He peeked out the car window at his parents’ house, to the right of Michelle’s. It was too close, the car and steps too visible from the front windows.
“I can’t do this,” he muttered in a strangled voice.
Michelle shut the car off. “Don’t worry, your parents go to bed early.”
“Their bedroom light is still on.”
“Why on earth would they be looking out the window to check when I get home?”
“You don’t know my mother.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” she replied breezily, and got out of the car.
“Wait.” He reached across and grabbed her wrist before she could close the door. Her skin was cool against his. He was burning up with anxiety. “I’ll go in through the back.”
“Suit yourself.” Taking her keys out of her purse, Michelle rounded the car and climbed the steps to the front door. After a deep breath, Gabe opened the car door as quietly as he could and slunk out. Shutting it gently, he crept along the side to the trunk. This would be easier if he weren’t wearing a white T-shirt, but he hadn’t expected to sneak inside under cover of darkness, now had he? He slipped his suitcase out but when he closed the trunk, it made a loud thunk, and he winced. He didn’t dare drag his luggage,
so he cradled it against his chest, trying not to think about airport germs as he crouch-ran toward the gate on the left side of the house.
By now Michelle was unlocking the front door. When Gabe opened the gate, the hinge creaked loudly, and she shot him an amused look. He ducked through and finally, with an entire house separating him from view of his parents, he straightened to his full height.
Pausing to take a breath, he looked around, unable to believe where he was. For the first time in nine years, he was in the same space as his parents. They were home, and so damn close. He’d seen an SUV in the driveway, and his mom’s car—the one she’d bought right before he graduated college—was parked at the curb.
Bitterness blossomed in his chest, and a strange tension took hold of him. For all these years, he’d tried not to think of them. It had been too painful. And it was painful now, but also . . . some small part of him really wanted to see them. Wanted them to see him.
It wouldn’t go well. He knew that. His interactions with them hadn’t gone well since he was fourteen years old, marked by yelling and criticism. There was no reason for that to have changed.
Adjusting his grip on the suitcase, Gabe made his way to the back of the house. Here, he had to be careful. Michelle’s backyard was separated from his by only a low chain-link fence, and the sliding glass doors leading into Michelle’s basement would be easily visible by—
He stopped. The fence he’d climbed over countless times as a child was gone, replaced by a stylish wooden lattice covered by climbing plants.
This, more than anything else, triggered a fresh wave of grief. What else had changed in his absence?
He heard a door open and nearly leaped out of his skin, but it was just Michelle opening the kitchen door, up a short flight of steps from the mostly concrete backyard.
“Come on,” she hissed.
He’d expected her to open the sliding doors to the basement, but of course she had to make this even more difficult for him. With a muttered curse, Gabe hefted the suitcase and tiptoed across the yard to the steps.
A bright light flashed on and he froze. On the tiny deck outside the kitchen, Michelle gestured frantically for him to get a move on. Realizing it was just a motion sensor light, Gabe tucked the suitcase under one arm and jogged up the steps as quickly and quietly as he could. He slipped past Michelle into the dark kitchen and finally, with great relief, put the suitcase down.
“You could’ve warned me about the light,” he said with a growl.
“I forgot. It’s been a long time since I had to sneak someone into this house.” She pointed at the mat just inside the door. “Shoes off. You know the rules.”
In the dim light permeating the windows, Gabe toed off his sneakers while Michelle slipped out of her sandals and slid on indoor chanclas. Something brushed Gabe’s ankle and he jumped as a dark shape appeared and began to sniff his shoes with gusto.
“That’s Jezebel,” Michelle said. “She’s hard to see in the dark.”
She moved to the light switch and turned it on, flooding the room with light. Gabe dropped to the floor like he was doing a push-up, and a sleek black cat he recognized from Michelle’s Instagram feed poked her nose—which had just been in his sneaker—into his face.
Michelle stared at him. “What are you doing?”
“Close the curtains,” he hissed, annoyed at her surprised look. The cat—Jezebel—bumped her head against his temple, so he shifted to scratch her ears.
“Gabe, your mom isn’t going to look into the kitchen—”
“Yes, she is. She used to do it all the time. Close the fucking curtains!”
Michelle sighed but did as he asked. “Better?”
“No.” Gabe got up from the floor, breathing like he’d just run a five-minute mile. He couldn’t go through this every time he had to enter and leave the house. And he couldn’t stay locked inside either. He had meetings to attend and locations to look at—in Manhattan.
Michelle stood at the kitchen counter, watching him with a pensive expression. It was the first time he’d gotten a good look at her, head to toe. A familiar sense of desire rose up. He still wanted her, but mixed up in it was longing and anguish, anger and heartache. The strength of his feelings threatened to choke him.
He’d always thought she was pretty. When they were little, they’d had fun together, and that was enough. Her prettiness didn’t mean anything except that he’d adored the sight of her smile.
As they’d gotten older, they’d both changed, and his gaze started to linger on her in different ways. Their bodies had matured, and he no longer thought nothing of her easy touches, the way she leaned against him when they watched movies or sat on his lap when the bus was crowded. Back then, he thought a lot about those touches. And he’d eventually admitted to himself that he was in love with her, beyond friendship. He loved listening to her talk and watching her dance around her room when her favorite songs came on the radio. He loved arguing with her about movies and sharing food from the same plate.
He loved to see her smile.
She wasn’t smiling now, though.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, the words tumbling out before he could question whether or not they were wise.
Her gaze dropped to the counter. “It’s weird having you back here.”
Gabe looked around the kitchen he’d once known as well as his own. “It’s weird being back here.”
“I wondered if it would be like it used to be.”
“I don’t think we can go back to how it used to be.” He said the words gently, knowing they had the potential to hurt her. She was more emotionally fragile than she pretended to be. But to honor their friendship, he had to give her honesty. He wasn’t the same person he’d been then, and neither was she. They’d grown up. They couldn’t slip back into the easy camaraderie that came from seeing each other daily.
“I guess we can’t,” she murmured. Then she opened the fridge and waved him over. “Anyway, I made these for you.”
He stood next to her, trying to ignore the enticing woodsy fragrance that clung to her, and peered into the refrigerator.
On the main shelf, uniform stacks of Tupperware containers were piled four high. Michelle selected one and removed the lid. Scents of lemon and pepper wafted up to him. Inside the container, which was separated into two compartments, sat a baked chicken breast and a side medley of sauteed vegetables—zucchini, mushroom, and green pepper.
Gabe stilled. “What’s this?”
“Meal prep.” Michelle replaced the lid and put the container back in the fridge. “I figured you’re probably on some kind of bodybuilder diet, so I looked up food recommendations and portion sizes. Some blogs suggested a lot of lean proteins and veggies throughout the day, so I did some cooking in advance.”
A warm feeling spread through Gabe’s chest. “How did you know?”
She gave his torso and arms a pointed look. “Instagram.”
Of course.
“Anyway,” she continued, “we obviously don’t have a full gym, but there’s a weight bench and a couple machines downstairs.”
“Thanks.” Gabe didn’t have the heart to tell her he wouldn’t be staying here more than one night. It would lead to an argument, and Michelle had clearly gone to a lot of trouble to prepare for his stay. The premade meals were more than he ever would have asked for.
Michelle gestured at the containers. “Do you need dinner?”
“Nah, I had a sandwich on the plane. I’m just tired.”
It wasn’t a lie. And the sooner he went to bed, the sooner he could sneak out in the morning.
“All right,” she said, shutting the fridge. “You’re going to stay in my brother’s old room.”
He nodded. Junior’s room was upstairs, so Gabe would at least be far away from Michelle’s room in the base—
“Next to me,” she added.
Gabe frowned. “¿Qué?”
“I’m staying in Monica’s old room.”
“What happened to the basement?” The words were out before Gabe could stop himself. The basement was where their friendship had both leveled up and shattered, all in one fell swoop.
Michelle busied herself at the sink. “It was my dad’s dream to convert it into an entertainment room. Big TV, a bar, plus a desk and the exercise equipment. Once I moved out, he got his wish.”
“Oh.”
Shit. How was he supposed to function knowing she was sleeping in the room next to his? For some reason this was worse than the idea of sleeping on the sofa in her apartment. Maybe the memories of her family occupying this house, of his family right next door, would be enough to quell whatever thoughts his libido tried to conjure. Gabe could only hope.
But when Michelle took him upstairs, he saw something he’d forgotten. The bedrooms shared a bathroom.
Gabe stood inside it, the peach walls and tiles reflecting off his skin and making his image in the mirror look yellow and sallow, but all he could focus on was the explosion of bottles and jars on the bathroom counter. Michelle’s makeup, her lotion, her face stuff. All the things she used on her body, on her skin and hair, when she stood in this room naked.
He shut his eyes. Being here was reverting him back to his teenage self, and he didn’t want that. That Gabe had been unsure of himself, worried about what other people thought of him and his choices, too afraid to act. When he’d moved to Los Angeles, that had been one of the biggest changes he’d made. Alone, away from his family and everyone who knew him, he’d finally had the space to take decisive action, to not give a fuck what anyone thought. It had worked for him.
That was why he was here. Taking decisive action to open the New York location of the gym. Yes, it was part of his investment agreement, but he’d made a deal and he was confident Agility Gym could make the jump to a new market.
So why was he hung up on the simple task of brushing his teeth in the room where Michelle showered?
He sent his reflection a resigned glare. He knew why. Because he wanted her. Still or again, it didn’t matter. It had been a long time since he’d felt this level of wanting for someone. He didn’t know how much of it was old, leftover desire or some fucked-up part of him that wanted what he couldn’t have. But he wanted her, now. And there was no getting around that fact.