“How do you like managing the dry cleaners?” Gabe’s mom asks, pulling me from my girly fretting.
“I like it. It’s a job that was easy to get.” A little family business humor. Hardy har har.
She placates me and chuckles. “Gabe’s been thinking of getting a job. I just don’t know what he would do, or that he’s ready for one.”
So, either he hasn’t told his mom everything or she knows about the job and is trying to get me to take it back. I decide to do that psychological thing and repeat her words back to her. “Why wouldn’t he be ready?”
“Did you know Gabe before his accident?”
I nod. “A little. He was three years ahead of me in school.”
“Well, he’s not like he used to be in more ways than people know. He gets tired easily, overwhelmed easily.”
“Gabe mentioned that to me. The overwhelmed part. I get that. He has to go through more steps to get things done in a different way than you or I would. I’m sure he’s also frustrated by that. I know I would be.”
“Gabe really shouldn’t be away from home for more than four hours at a time. He needs his rest.”
“Did he tell you about the job I offered him at the dry cleaners?”
She looks at me. Her eyes are worried. She is a mom and she is trying to manipulate me, but her reasons are so much more noble than my mother’s would be. She’s frightened.
“He told me about the job.” She swallows hard, like she’s trying to hold back tears. “I don’t know if he can handle dating someone and working for the first time. It’s a lot, Brynn. He’s come so far in the last year. His attitude has changed. He’s wanting to go out and do things and for the most part … seeing friends, liking a girl – he told me he got into the pool! That’s amazing, but I worry if he has one setback … he might not be strong enough emotionally yet to handle things.”
“All I can tell you Mrs. Riley, is that I want Gabe to be happy and comfortable. If the job gets to be too much for him, I’ll make him take a break, or I’ll fire him.” I laugh, hoping she lightens up a little too. “And as far as me and him go, I like him and he likes me and I think we’re just going to have to go through that and see what happens. Like we’re a normal girl and normal boy – because when it comes to that, we’re just like everyone else.”
She nods. “Okay. I will try to trust in you two. It’s just … it’s been a long road to get to where we are now.”
“I get it. I won’t do anything to intentionally hurt him. I promise.”
She reaches over and pats my knee. “I know you won’t, honey.”
~
Gabe’s house is kinda cool. All the ramps remind me of the fun house at a carnival. I don’t tell him that because I’m not a moron. I’m sure he doesn’t think they’re all that cool. Not as cool as walking.
He’s fake surprised to see me. I can tell it’s fake because he’s overly surprised. He and his parents were somehow in cahoots. Gabe checks with me, weighing my reaction, and I smile at him. His dad comes over and pats me on the back. They are a handsy family. I enjoy that.
“Nice to see you again, Brynn,” Mr. Riley says. “Can I interest you in a piece of pie? We’ve got pumpkin and pecan. I’m about to have my second round of the day.”
“Yes, please.”
Mrs. Riley smacks her husband on the ass as he walks by. “I didn’t get the whipped cream. Safeway was closed.”
“Oh, the horror,” Mr. Riley replies.
At my house it would’ve been a major disaster that there was no whipped cream. My mother would’ve written a letter to Safeway detailing the myriad ways she was not going to support their business any longer. But it also would’ve been a non-issue because my mother would never have forgotten the whipped cream and had to go to Safeway on Thanksgiving. She consistently forgot how to act like a human being, but she never forgot something if it was on the never-ending to-do list in her head.
I notice for the first time that Gabe is sitting on the couch and not in his chair. I guess I’m used to seeing him seated and just assumed. I hesitantly walk over and sit next to him on the couch. He braces himself with his hands to keep from falling toward me when my weight caves the seat cushions inward.
“Oops,” I say, embarrassed, and scoot away from him quickly.
He smiles. “No big deal. I should’ve warned you that I faceplant when people sit next to me on the couch. Another awesome thing about being me. I’ve had my face in my dad’s lap more times than I care to remember.”
“You know, FFCH, there are some things I don’t need to know.”
“Well, from one over-sharer to another, them’s the breaks. Don’t ever say I don’t give you some truly horrifying images to chew on.”
I shake my head violently. “I will only think of your dad as a door fixer and a pie bringer and you can’t make me do otherwise.”
“Jesus. You two are weird,” Mrs. Riley says. She rolls her eyes, but then winks at me.
Mr. Riley comes into the family room with two enormous slices of pie on these dainty china plates. He hands one to me. “Here, lemme get you a TV tray.”
He drags a metal tray with legs over to me and I set my pie down on it, resisting squealing like a little girl. At my house, you may have beverages in the den while watching TV on holidays, but under no circumstances were we ever allowed to have food anywhere but the kitchen or dining room table. This. Is. Awesome.
Gabe taps me on the shoulder. “Hey looney tunes, you all right there? You’ve got a super goofy look on your face.”
I shrug. “Pie in the family room is the best thing ever.”
Mr. Riley snorts. “You have to raise your expectations, dear.”
We hang out eating and not eating, watching football and not watching football, talking and not talking. It’s all very easy. Gabe reaches out and rubs my shoulder from time to time and I bring my hand up and run my fingertips over the top of his hand. We’re flirty without being gross. A couple of hours pass this way. Leftovers are brought out and everyone eats again. His mom’s cooking is delicious and the food is better than my mom’s, even though it is nearly identical.
Mrs. Riley stands and saunters over to her husband, reaching a hand out to him. “I need to take a walk or I’m going to burst.”
Mr. Riley happily gets up from his chair and takes his wife’s hand. “We’ll be back in an hour. Mom’s got her phone if you need us.”
“Cool. Have a good walk,” Gabe says, grinning up at his folks. The instant the front door is closed, he turns to me. “I have been dying for them to take a hint. Stand up, will ya?”
Gabe braces himself and I stand up. Then he whips the blanket covering his legs off and takes hold of his left leg, just under the knee, hoisting it up onto the couch. He does the same with the other until he’s lounging back on the armrest.
“Get on top of me.” He licks his lips and looks me up and down, giving me the full-body tingles.
I’m ready and not ready for anything. I take a step toward him and then straddle him, one knee dug into the crack between the cushions and the back of the couch, the other still standing. “Uh, like this?”
“Yeah, except it would be better if you didn’t have any pants on. Or a shirt. Or underwear. I think the word I’m looking for is naked. It would all be better all of my days if you were naked, m’kay?”
I tug my shirt off over my head and then grab the hem of his long sleeve t-shirt and push it up his chest. “Will you settle for topless?”
“Topless is never a bad option with you.”
“Will you do me the honors?” I look down at the front clasp on my bra.
With a hint of mischief in his eyes, Gabe unhooks my bra and pulls the fabric cups to the sides, my breasts spilling free. They are unsupported for about a millisecond before Gabe’s hands are on them, kneading them liberally and scraping his thumbnails over my nipples. I lean over him, my hair grazing his bare chest.
“That feels good,” I whisper and then lower m
y mouth to his.
His tongue prods at mine and then draws back, licking my lower lip. “I want to make you feel great.”
He raises his head to my chest and looks at me as he takes my right nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. I moan a little letting him know he’s on a good and very right track.
Gabe circles my nipple with his tongue and then blows on it. The cool air makes it taut and I lower my hips to his, putting all the weight of my lower body on him.
“Mmm, I like that,” he says. “I can feel the pressure of you against me.”
“Where,” I ask, nudging my right breast to his mouth, getting it its due.
Gabe clears his throat. “I can feel the pressure of YOU against ME.”
“Ah ha.” I blush, even though the guy has half my boob in his mouth. I lean further over and brace myself by putting my hands on his shoulders, essentially holding him down. His eyes widen and he wiggles his eyebrows at me. I file that away under HE LIKES IT and start moving my pelvis against his, hoping this is also something he likes … and can sort of feel. The idea of getting him off turns me on so much. To be the person that can do that for him makes me feel powerful, like nothing else does.
“That’s hot, the way you move like that,” he says, coming up for air. “Am I responding?”
I slow down and widen my stance, searching to feel his hardness between my legs. “Not yet.”
“It’s still really hot, believe me, I have such a mind boner right now.”
I kiss him, because how can you not kiss the guy who has a mind boner for you?
“I need your shirt all the way off,” I say. “I want you to feel me where I can feel you.”
I sit up and he pulls his shirt off over his head, dropping it to the floor next to mine. I lay on top of him, pressing my breasts to his chest, reveling in the tightness with which he holds me to him.
“I feel you all the way like this,” he whispers in my ear. “Can you deal if this is all of me that … works?”
I think about a moment ago when I was getting off on the power of getting him hard and I know I want that, but I also really, really like this. This is a connection. This is about both of us and not my stupid ego and what it needs. Can I deal, though? If this is it? If this is all I’ll ever be able to give him, because I know he can make me come. Without a doubt he can satisfy me, but that’s not really what I’m hesitant about.
“Can you deal if this is all of you that works?” I ask tenderly.
“I want to.” He brushes my hair back from my face and touches my chin, lifting my face to look at him. “You’re the unknown, Brynn. You’re like standing on the high dive in a dream – you have to have had this dream, I think all swimmers have – where you’re up there and you’re looking down and you can’t see the bottom of the pool and instead of being afraid, you want it. You want to be in that water more than anything, to immerse yourself in it because it makes you feel alive.”
“And so you dive in?” I ask. I’ve never had that dream, yet I know exactly where he’s coming from. He’s that for me, too.
Gabe kisses my forehead. “Damn right you do.” He chuckles. “Although, it’s better as a metaphor for falling in love than it is in practicality.” He points to himself. “Exhibit A.”
“Why you always gotta ruin a moment, man?”
“Why you always gotta talk like a hustler from a ’70s TV show?”
“Bitch, I gots no idea what you’re talkin’ about.” I sit up, resting back on my heels. “Is this how your make out sessions have always gone? In my experience, there is less endearing love talk and mention of hustlers. Usually, you know, mouth on my tits, hands down my pants, that sorta thing.”
“I strive to not be Andy,” Gabe says, resting his hands on my hips. I feel him flexing his fingers against my skin. “And I want to be your friend, too, as shocking as that may sound. I think the high dive emotions only come for someone you actually like in addition to wanting to bang.”
And that’s when he gets hard.
I take his hands, placing one on my left breast and one on his erection. “Which do you think did that? Boobs or friendship?”
“Huh,” he says, then laughs. “You. Both are part of you, and this is what you do to me.”
I fall on top of him and look into his eyes. “That’s the rightest answer any man has ever given any woman.”
“The water feels perfect, doesn’t it?” he asks.
“You got that right, my man.”
Chapter Eleven
I go into, well downstairs to, work on Friday to catch up on paperwork and to do some research on hiring people in wheelchairs. Sure, we got the front door working properly, but who knows what all else might need fixing or brought up to ADA standards?
Ginormous coffee in hand, I settle in at my desk for a few hours of fun, but my mind keeps slipping away to thoughts of Gabe and yesterday evening on the couch. Nothing more happened physically, and not because of either one of us not wanting it to, but I think we both were still soaking in the fact that someone who wanted us also accepted us. There was a whole lot of mental and emotional going on, so the physical had to be put on hold.
Except, once I’d kissed him goodnight and hopped out of the van, alone in my apartment all I could do was think about having him. So much so, that I’d dreamt of him. And it was most certainly not a dream about jumping off of a high dive.
Gabe’s legs worked. He walked toward me. He lifted me up and held me off the ground in a hug. Gabe gazed down at me, took my hand, led me to the end of the dock. We sat there, our legs dangling over the sides, kicking water at each other, kissing, his arm wrapped around me.
It was so utterly like how it could’ve been that I woke up angry and disappointed and then immediately felt guilty because the Gabe of could’ve been never would have looked at me twice. Not because he wasn’t a decent person or because he was a snob, I just wasn’t on his radar. Now, I’m on his radar. And the Gabe I get is a little bit, okay a lot, broken and that isn’t exactly fair. Especially not to him, but also not to me.
For the first time, I get why Dani loves my brother despite the fact he and my family put her through hell. She is the only person who can love him the right way, the exact way he needs. And Gabe, maybe he needs me in the same way. He needs the person who is going to protect him, even if it means sacrificing some of herself to do it. I don’t doubt that holding on to the secret of Gabe’s accident is going to destroy me at some point, but as long as it never touches him, well, maybe that is some fairness coming his way. Some balance.
I think about the napkin in my coat pocket and the note from Izzy. I should text her about a meet up. The sooner I explain where I’m coming from and find out what she’s planning, the better.
My phone chimes and I look at the text from Gabe.
Wondered if you could do me a favor? Let me borrow your keys to the Aquatic Center later? Travis and I want to take a swim.
Doesn’t Travis have a pool in his house?
All dug up. Some plumbing issues. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?
Can I come with? You’ll get in less trouble if I’m there. I didn’t cancel my class tonight, but no one is going to show.
Excellent! Pick you up at 5?
Sure. See you then.
Damn, how I want some fairness to come my way too. Why does Travis Chandler have to be such a smug bastard? He’d done something awful and I’d saved his ass from jail when I could’ve said something. Especially now when what he’d held over my head can’t be used against me anymore. Shouldn’t he be staying as far away from Gabe and me and Izzy as possible? I mean, Izzy is legit ready to talk, to me at least, maybe more if I was on board. Which I can’t be.
I grab my jacket, fish the napkin out of the pocket, and type Izzy’s number into my phone, but I don’t send a text. I don’t want to deal with any of this! Why can’t Gabe and I stay in our new relationship bubble without any interruptions for one measly weekend? The secret has held for three plus years. Izzy
can wait until Monday.
The more I mull over Travis’s motives all afternoon, the more afraid I get. Has he found new dirt on someone close to me? I can see how it is Izzy’s word against his in her case. It’s beyond lame that’s how things work, but that’s how things work. Rich white guy against working class girl who’s been in and out of rehab … even if she does tell her story, Travis Chandler’s lawyers will bury her. So, he has me to worry more about. Me to focus on. And all I keep thinking is it has to be something about Grandpa because if Travis has done any kind of real digging, he’ll know that I will throw my parents under the bus. I just will. They should’ve been better parents and people if they didn’t want that to happen.
At quarter to five, I run upstairs to grab my swim bag and binge eat some Nutter Butters. My stomach is all flip floppy and even though I have one less issue to deal with than I had the night before Thanksgiving, I don’t feel any less barfy.
I look out the window and see Gabe’s van pull into his spot. I take off downstairs and get into the van before I can spook myself any further.
“Hey, ba-by,” Gabe says in an Elvis voice, backing out of the parking spot.
“Hey,” I reply, hoping I’m not as pale and sweaty looking as I feel.
“Ready to swim?”
I shrug. “Sure, why not?”
Gabe laughs. “Don’t be so enthusiastic.”
“I always swim on Friday nights, so it’s no big deal to me is all.”
“Okay,” he drawls. “You’re putting out a vibe like you’re not so into this. If you just wanna give me the keys, it’s cool.”
“No, it’s not,” I snap. “You guys can’t be in there without me. There has to be a lifeguard on duty and I need to make sure Travis isn’t going to get all drunk and do something awesome like pee off the high dive.”
Diving In (Open Door Love Story) Page 7