“Horror,” I tell her, twisting the remote around in my hand. “Makes me feel better.”
“About what?” Aveline asks, and I feel my walls cracking, my shield breaking. I want to talk to someone about all of this, tell them everything. Right now, she's all I've got. That, and I kind of … like her. Besides, Gill trusts her with our lives, so why can't I spill some of my secrets?
“About Gill. About … Solène.” I glance at the staircase through the archway behind us, but nobody's there, no creaking of floorboards or snicking of doors.
“Ah,” Aveline says, running her long fingers through that ruby red hair of hers. It's half up in a messy bun and half hanging down around her ears. “That.”
“Yeah, that,” I say, picking at the design on my leggings, the black and gray triangles that make up the pattern. “I knew working with Gill would be hard, but I didn't know it'd be this bad.”
“You still love him?” she asks me, and I feel something shatter deep inside, shards of glass cutting at the edges of my soul. My breath hitches and it's the only answer she needs. Aveline's a smart woman. “Have you talked about that with him?” she asks tentatively, her voice holding onto something that I feel like I should be able to decipher.
“I can't,” I tell her. “No, no, that's not right. I can do anything I set my mind to.” Self-talk, always helps. “But I won't.”
“Why not?” she asks me as I look up and meet the spring green of her gaze. “Listen, I don't know what happened between the two of you, but Gill's never shacked up with anyone as long as I've known him and I've known him for years.”
I hate how much that thought heats my blood.
“Have you ever slept with him?” I blurt, needing to know for sure. It's not that I'd hold it against her—or even Gill for that matter—but I want to know before I tell her anything else. Aveline recoils a little, like the thought's an anathema to her.
“Like I said, he's hot, but—and no offense to you or anything—he's a little prickly for my tastes. What I mean is, he's kind of a dick.” Laughter bursts from my throat and I clamp a hand over my mouth. Aveline smiles softly at me.
“But you said you'd seen him naked?” I ask and understanding dawns on her pale features.
“Gill and me, we've been through some shit together. I've happened to catch a glimpse of him nude, but it was nothing like that.” I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that the only friend I have to talk to isn't one of my stepbrother's lovers. “So I'm a safe bet. Tell me whatever you want to tell me, and it won't leave this living room.” So perceptive. It's a little unnerving to talk to someone like that, but I'm used to it.
“Gill and me … we … were in love once.”
I wet my lips and pause outside Gilleon's bedroom door, listening to the silence of the apartment and the gentle ticking of the clock in the living room. Outside, the rest of Paris goes about their business, not knowing or caring that this moment, for me, is a historic one.
I reach down for the knob and turn it slowly, finding my stepbrother sitting on the edge of his bed with a book in one hand. He looks up at me as I walk in, smiling softly. I wonder if he can tell from my facial expression what I've got planned.
“Hey there,” he says, closing the book and tossing it onto his nightstand. “I was wondering when you were going to come out of that room of yours. Don't you know that Dad and Elena are gone for the night?” Gill grins big and brushes some dark hair from his forehead. “I was thinking we could make out.”
“I was hoping to do more than make out,” I tell him, reaching down and hooking my fingers under my T-shirt. My heart hammers in my chest and I take that brief moment when the fabric is covering my face to snatch a deep breath. I toss the shirt onto the floor, feeling so exposed, so naked in my lacy blue bra. It's the fanciest one I own, purchased at one of the boutiques in Le Marais with my savings.
Purchased just for this.
“Regi,” Gill says, standing up suddenly, the warm glow of his bedside lamp illuminating the straight sturdy perfection of his nose, the slope of his jaw, the dark brows framing his brilliant eyes. I bite my lower lip hard enough to hurt, but I don't wake up from this dream, this spell that I find myself under every day that I wake up and see Gill for the first time. “Are you sure about this?” he asks, taking a long, slow, deep breath.
I've never been more sure of anything in my life. But I don't tell him this. The words sound too sappy, too cliché, even if they're true.
Instead, I answer him by reaching down and popping the top button on my jeans.
Gill's hands curl into fists by his sides and then relax as I move towards him, pausing at the end of the bed, my eyes hooded and my pulse pounding.
“Regi,” Gill says again, more softly this time, his bare feet quiet on the wood floor as he steps over to me, his hands hovering above my hips like he's not sure this is even really happening. Gill and I have gotten close to taking things all the way, but we never dropped over the edge, never let our hearts take us where our bodies so desperately wanted to go.
When Gilleon finally lays his fingers against the bare skin of my hips, I have to bite back a gasp, little thrills of pleasure arching up my spine and making my head spin.
“I love you, Regi,” he tells me, and I know he's not just saying it to get into my pants. I'm glad he's going to be my first. I can't even imagine doing this with anyone else.
Gill leans in and our lips meet softly at first, tentative strokes of tongue as our bodies come together, the cups of my bra pressing against the hardness of his chest. One of his hands roams up my back along my spine, drawing goose bumps up on my skin. When he cups the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair, I groan hard and the passion that we've kept such a careful eye on breaks loose.
I laugh as Gill swings me onto the bed, climbing on top of me and pinning my head with his hands. His eyes sparkle as he wets his lips and looks down at me, studying my face, absorbing it into his memory.
“You make me feel so lucky, Regi,” he says, closing the distance between our mouths and crashing our lips together. Down below, I can feel the hardness of his body through his jeans, that tight bulge that tells me for certain that he wants me as much as I want him.
I reach between us, searching for the button on his jeans and snapping it open, moving straight to his zipper. Gill stops me by pulling back and grinning, hooking his fingers on the waistband of my pants and pulling them down, dragging them right off and over my bare feet, before he tosses them to the floor.
I curl my knees up, suddenly embarrassed by the ruffled panties with the tiny blue bows.
Gill doesn't look embarrassed though; he looks thrilled.
“Are these for me?” he asks, eyes sparkling.
“No, I bought 'em for my last boyfriend.” Gill just laughs and I toss a pillow at him. Before I can think up another insult, he leans over me and runs a finger down the seam of my panties.
“There's a wet spot here, Regi,” Gill says, and I blush, heat rushing to fill my cheeks. “I'm pretty sure that isn't for your last boyfriend.”
“Screw you,” I tell him, reaching up and wrapping my hands around the back of his neck. “I'm nervous and scared and you're not making this any better.”
“You? Nervous and scared? I don't think so,” he breathes, kissing me again. I taste his mouth, inhale his scent, like bergamot oil, a spicy sweetness that makes my head feel light. Gill takes advantage of the moment to slip his fingers under my panties and inside me, drawing a gasp that gets swallowed up by his hot mouth.
As embarrassing as it is, I can't keep my hips from bucking against his hand as he teases me, slides his fingertips into my warm body. I keep my arms locked around his neck as he draws the sensation into a throbbing ache and then just … stops.
A moan of disappointment escapes my lips as Gill sits up and strips off his black T-shirt. The disappointment dies right there, right when I see the hard planes of his chest, the swell of muscles that mark Gill as a man, and no
t a teenager. Not anymore.
I can't even believe he's mine.
“I love you, too, Gilleon,” I tell him, his answering smile enough to warm my heart to the point of bursting. I bite my lip again and run my fingers up his abs, over his chest, curling them over his shoulders and pulling him back down to me. I take a small break to reach down and unhook the front clasp of my bra, getting a pair of raised brows and a surprised facial expression from Gill.
“I didn't even know they made these,” he whispers, and I laugh, the sound turning into a moan as he pushes the cups back and takes my breasts in his hands. I bought it special for you, I want to say, but the words won't come, replaced by animalistic groans that bring more heat to my face.
I can't seem to help it though. With Gill's hands on my breasts, his body between my legs, it's hard to remember to even breathe.
“One second,” I whisper, rolling partially onto my side and snagging my jeans off the floor. I came prepared. “Got it,” I say as I pull a few condoms out and flop back onto my back, looking up at Gill and his bemused facial expression. “Here. Put this on.”
“Wow, you really did think this whole thing out, didn't you?” he says, his voice warm and his eyes gentle. Gill's strong, no doubt about that, but he knows when to show a different side. I can see it right here, right now, and it's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. I don't tell him that out loud though—he'd probably tease me if I did.
“Just put it on,” I whisper, a fire burning down below that I can't wait to quench. If his fingers feel that good then …
“Oui, mademoiselle,” he whispers back, leaning down and kissing me softly, our lips barely brushing as he breathes against my mouth, “I aim to please.”
I bite my lower lip as he scoots back and slides off the end of the bed, dropping his pants to the floor and giving me a wry look over his shoulder.
“What do you think? I've been told I have a nice ass.”
“Screw you,” I whisper, but my voice sounds too breathy to really be mine. I sit up, shrugging off my bra and tossing it to the floor. The panties follow after, smacking Gill right in the chest—totally by accident, of course.
The warm air in the bedroom seems suddenly chill as I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, watching as Gilleon stands there buck naked and peruses the writing on the condom package.
“I know we're both virgins, but it's not that hard to figure out,” I say with a slight smile. Butterflies are taking over my stomach and making it hard to think straight. Mostly I just want him to stop looking at it and put the damn thing on.
“Feels like nothing at all,” Gill reads and then smiles, looking up at me. “Did you pick these out special?”
“I ordered them off the Internet—after reading lots of reviews.” I turn away because it's hard to have a conversation with someone who's so buff and beautiful and … excited. His laughter makes me purse my lips as he climbs back onto the bed and curls his fingers around my knees, slowly opening my legs up.
I turn back and we lock gazes, blue to brown. Gill's lips are gently parted as he looks down at me, watches me lean back onto the bed, my honey blonde hair spread out across the stark white of his pillowcase.
When he leans down over me, our bare skin brushing with an electric thrill, heat rushes through me and I find myself opening wider, reaching up and resting my fingers on the back of Gill's neck.
The talking is over, the joking put on hold.
I feel him at my opening, hard and ready, as desperate for me as I am for him.
“Regi,” he whispers as he pushes inside, sliding deep and drawing a sharp gasp from me. It doesn't hurt, not really, but I feel tight, stretched, full. Knowing that that's Gill, the boy with the sharp wit and the fierce love, the loyalty that never quits, makes my head spin in the best way possible.
I groan, the hardness of my nipples brushing against the muscles of his chest as he starts to move, slowly at first but picking up speed, abs contracting as his hips move to a rhythm that we both somehow know instinctually.
I close my eyes, lashes fluttering against my cheeks, as pleasure slides through me, like ripples in a pond, starting down below and taking over until I can feel Gill everywhere—in my fingertips, my toes, my lips. He leans down and kisses me fiercely but lovingly, like I belong to him and he belongs to me. Together. Forever. I really believe that, really and truly believe that. Gill and me, we're made for each other.
My eyes open and I stare up into Gill's as his breath comes faster, as mine picks up speed to match, our bodies slipping and sliding together in an erotic dance. I raise my hips to meet his, hook one leg tightly around him and encourage him to go deeper, move faster, hit harder.
When the orgasm hits me, suddenly and unexpectedly, my body soars while my heart falls. Far. And hard. I fall so hard for Gilleon Marchal then that I know it'll be impossible to ever climb out.
“We met when I was sixteen and he was seventeen,” I tell Aveline, memories sweeping over me and threatening to smother me in the avalanche of emotions that comes with them. The past doesn't control me; I control my future. I take a deep breath and lean back, relaxing into the white and blue throw pillows and tugging the white afghan over my legs. Aveline listens intently, even as I know she's keeping an eye and an ear out for trouble. “That was the day he moved in for good, two weeks before our parents' wedding. I'd known Cliff for a while before that, and I liked him alright, but I was really upset about my mother getting remarried.”
I tap my fingers on the back of the couch, forcing myself through a condensed version of the story. If I have someone to talk to for this next week of forced isolation, I'll feel a whole lot better. It's almost become a desperate need for Aveline to know everything. “My dad died of melanoma a few years earlier and I still wasn't over it.” I swirl the red wine around in my glass and then take a tentative sip, letting the alcohol crash into my empty belly. “Gill helped me through that. He was … nice and he was funny and he was the only person I'd ever met who valued family as much as I did. He understood me, and when he looked at me, I felt like he saw me.” I take another sip of wine. “Really and truly saw me. When we moved to France, he kept me going, helped me when I stumbled through the language, when I missed my friends, when I thought about flying back to live with my grandma in California. He kept me there, taught me to be happy, to appreciate my new circumstances.” My eyes mist as I get to the next part of the story. I won't cry about Gill, spent way too many years crying over him. But my mom? Ouch. That still hurts, and I'm not ashamed of it. “When my mother passed away in an accident, he was there for me. In fact, to this day I feel like he's the only reason I survived that.”
I check the stairs again, check to make sure we're really and truly alone. I know Cliff knows this story, but Solène … she doesn't need to hear it.
“We stayed together until I was twenty-one,” I say, my eyes glazing over as I remember the ring Gill gave me, tucked it right in my hand while we were taking a walk. He didn't even say anything, just looked at me with that love in his eyes and … I was his. Of course it was a yes. It was always going to be a yes. “But then one day … one day he just left.” I fight back the pain, kick at it and shove it until it falls away and leaves the emptiness. I don't like that either, but it seems to fade more quickly, so I'll take it. “He left a letter telling me how much he loved me, but how we wouldn't work. Said he was going and that he wouldn't be back, that he'd asked Cliff not to give me his number or his address, that maybe one day we could talk but it wouldn't be anytime soon.”
I feel my jaw clench, that old anger rising up to bite me in the ass.
I want to stand up right now and throw my wineglass at the wall, scream and shout and curse his name like I did that day. But I don't. I won't allow myself to get that caught up in a memory.
“I … had something to tell him, but … when I tried to contact him …”
My stomach twists when I think about how I begged and pleaded Cliff,
how I browbeat him into giving me Gill's temporary address at that hotel, how I went there, how Gill refused to answer the door. I knew he was in there though, so I rented the room next door and went onto the balcony. That's when I saw him, sitting in one of the chairs outside, staring into the night sky with tears on either side of his face. I knew then that he wasn't going to talk to me, that no matter what I said, it wouldn't change things. “I got Cliff to tell me where he was anyway, went and banged on the door to his hotel room.” I sigh at the sad, miserable person I was then. I feel for her even now, but I promised myself that I will never, ever let myself become her again. “He didn't answer, even though he was inside.”
“The thing you went to tell him about …” Aveline begins and I nod. She's perceptive enough, smart enough, that I don't even have to say anything aloud.
“The day I found that letter, the day he left, I spent the morning walking around the city with some girlfriends of mine, shopping for the future we'd never have. I remember feeling so much love for him that I thought my heart would burst from my chest.” My fingers tighten around the stem of the wineglass. “That letter was the last thing I ever expected to find, and it nearly killed me.” I swirl my wine around and take another drink. “My love for Gill very nearly killed me.”
Before Aveline can respond, there's a knock at the front door and she gets up to answer it, sliding off the chains and flicking the deadbolt before Gill steps inside. When he looks over at me, blue eyes sparking, I feel a little thrill of fear inside my chest and can only wonder how much of my story he managed to overhear.
“Ooh!” Solène exclaims as I turn the page in the magazine and her fingers trail across the sea of colorful dresses. “Je les aime tous.” I love them all.
I shake my head.
“Nope,” I say, leaning my head against hers. “You know the rule. You have to pick one.” I sit up and laugh as she pouts her lips and shakes her dark curls out. We're almost a full week into this mess, but at least we've got the basics back—underwear, pajamas, toothbrushes, a curling iron for Solène. I can't believe she's nine and already curling her hair, but I roll with it. I suppose I really don't have any room to talk. I snuck red lipstick to school when I was her age and got in trouble from the teacher. My mom, though, she didn't mind. No, I don't think she wanted her nine year old wearing grenadine red lip color, but she smiled softly and showed me how to put it on properly, and then she explained that I was still a kid and that I should enjoy being one while I could.
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