by Kaia Bennett
"Maybe," Nicole conceded, her voice coming out muffled in her cocoon of angst.
"Yes. You need chocolate, and then you need to sit down and talk to me. For real."
"Okay," Nicole said with a sniffle. "Fine. Whatever."
She knew she was acting like a child now, but she couldn't help it. That's what she felt like... or at least that's what she felt like everyone wanted her to be. Everyone seemed to think she was the girl she used to be, but even if she was, even if she still was her deep down, she didn't want to be. She didn't want to go back. The girl she was had been courting a broken heart and had been too stupid to realize it.
Gabriel's words had done something to her. They'd given her a choice. If she wanted, if she said the word, she could go back to being that girl. She saw in his dark eyes that he wanted her to. He wasn't over it, not by a long shot. Yesterday proved she wasn't over it either. That didn't change the world they lived in, or the reality she'd committed to. She loved Travis. She told him so every day now, and her heart warmed when he said it back. That was real too, and that love deserved a chance.
Gabriel had his. And because of so many faults of her own and of his, that chance was gone. What kind of person would she be if she started entertaining the idea of going back to him, even in the abstract, after everything she'd been through? After all Travis had done for her?
She felt like Eve in the Garden. She hadn't had great odds either, and she'd only had one snake to contend with, not several in the form of friends, family, and her own tortured psyche, goading her to take a bite out of Gabriel-shaped temptation. At the very least they believed she wanted to anyway, and that was worse.
Trish, who had found her finest stash of premenstrual comfort, tapped Nicole lightly on the back and they headed to the living room Trish had forced Chase to redecorate.
They plopped down on the plush, masculine sofa, and Trish allowed Nicole to nibble in peace on her portion of milk chocolate. Nicole took advantage of that peace for as long as she could until Trish finally cleared her throat and looked at her expectantly.
Nicole sighed, unsure of what to say.
"I wasn't trying to say you should get back together with him, Nicole."
"Good, because even if you were, it's not going to happen."
Trish rolled her large eyes up towards the ceiling. "Look, you're with Travis. You and Gabriel are friends. I got it. Nobody, not even me or some faux journalism has the power to change that unless you let it. You know the truth. You can let a rumor drive you crazy, or you can just get over it and let yourself be happy. You're happy, right?"
Nicole nodded. "I love him, Trish. I told him so."
Trish had the decency to swallow her utter shock quickly. What, did everyone think she just moved in with Travis for kicks? Well, if they had, those three little words changed that, which gave Nicole a grim sort of satisfaction.
"Well... there you, go, sweetie. The 'L' word has been invoked and you're sharing a place. Next stop is meeting the family and planning the wedding date, huh?"
Nicole laughed, trying to hide the mini heart palpitations thrumming in her chest. Family meetings. Houses, two car garages. Babies...
"I need to do something. I need to go out and think about something else."
"But I thought you wanted to talk about—"
She looked expectantly at Trish. "Wanna go out tonight? You got any plans?"
Trish hissed air in through her teeth and averted her eyes. "Actually, Chase was thinking about going out to this bar..."
Nicole shrugged. "Never mind then."
"No, it'd be totally cool if you came, I think you'd like it. It's this new place that just opened up in the East Village. I just didn't know if you'd want to go because all the guys are supposed to be there. Wasn't sure if you were all Gabriel'd out for one day."
No more sighs tonight. No more bad attitudes and no more angst-ridden thoughts. She wasn't going to let some tabloid and one crazy-hot solo session in the shower stop her from hanging out with her good friend.
"You cool with going if he's going to be there?"
"You were right, I was just being hormonal. I'm already over it. What do you think I should wear?" Nicole asked with a slate-cleaning grin.
***
Two weeks later the near-addictive feeling of hanging out with her old group of friends clashed with her current life. Had she known it was happening, that she was slowly traveling down a road that would lead her to this morning, she might have slowed down. She might have taken stock of her surroundings, of Travis. But she hadn't realized anything until Friday morning rolled around. The shift began with five little words.
"How was your night out?"
Nicole winced, the dull throbbing in her head answering his question before she could. "I think this slight hangover means it went well. But I might be getting old babe, 'cause I used to be able to have more than four drinks, and now..." She started to shake her head, then groaned and thought better of it.
He nodded, and went back to drinking his coffee. Nicole padded into their kitchen, in her robe and slippers, freshly showered, and feeling like crap. It wasn't until she got up close to him she noticed something was a bit off. There was tightness around his lips that she tried to kiss away with a quick peck. One that he didn't quite return.
"How was yours?"
Travis looked up at her, and was silent for a long moment. "Not so hot."
"Why? What happened?" she asked while pouring herself a cup. Her stomach growled its consent when she picked up a crispy slice of bacon and nibbled on it. Thank God, the man could cook.
"Well, I got home late from work, because I've got this difficult new client. I thought when I got back I would relax and hang out with my girlfriend since I've been so busy all week. But she was out. Again."
Nicole stilled in her nibbling, a genuine look of confusion on her face. "But I thought you were doing your usual happy hour thing. I called you to let you know I was going out with Trish, and when you said 'okay', I thought you meant it."
He shrugged, and went back to reading the news on his laptop. "What else was I going to say? You were already out the door before I could call and ask if you wanted to do something with me instead."
"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 sto
p 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.