Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
I stop in my tracks. “Really, Gabe? You said you’d do this, you can’t go back on your word now.”
He holds his hands up, palms out. “Okay, okay, I wasn’t trying to get out of anything. You just seem distracted—or mad—or I don’t know. Whatever. Whatever you want to do to me, I’m good, but can you just smile for me? I hate seeing you like this.”
I groan on the inside but don’t let him hear it. I want to scream as loud and as long as I can because I’m so frustrated. I’ve wanted Gabriel Gray for as long as I can remember, but he’s my best friend, and that’s all he’ll ever be. I force a smile to my face. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a little stressed, and I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’m sorry… okay?”
He grabs my hand and pulls it up between us. The difference is vast. I’m pale compared to his olive skin tone. My hand is a lot smaller than his, and where mine is soft, his is rough. But when he slides his fingers between mine, threading them together, they fit perfectly together. My breath halts as I stare at the way he’s holding on to me. “Hey,” he whispers.
I look up at him, and he searches my eyes, but I’m not sure what it is he’s looking for. I’ve had my feelings on lockdown, and I refuse to let him see how I truly feel about him. I may want a relationship, but I can’t risk our friendship. “Hey.” I smile up at him, feeling at ease for the first time since our argument two days ago.
2
GABE
I want to kiss her.
I want to lean down the mere five inches between us and press my lips to hers. Would she freak out? Would she punch me in the arm and tell me to quit messing around, or would she participate in the meshing of our lips and give me everything I could ever want?
Because I can’t kiss her, not yet, not until I tell her the other thing that is weighing on me. “I’ve missed you, Chrissy.”
She puts her other hand against my chest. “It’s only been two days.”
I cover her hand with mine, holding it against my chest. “Two days of you being mad at me.”
She nods at the nurses walking by and then steps back, putting some distance between us. “Come on, let’s go to an exam room and I’ll clean that cut out.”
I follow behind her, but there’s no way I’m just letting this go. She can’t avoid me for two days and not talk to me about it. I know I messed up, and I’m here to make it right.
She puts me in a chair and then goes to gather some supplies. When she comes back, I watch her inspect my cut, and she shakes her head. “Gabe, you need stitches for this.”
I shrug. “My favorite nurse was ignoring me. I couldn’t just have some random nurse cutting on me.”
“No one is cutting on you.”
She works on cleaning the cut, and as she works, she continues to talk. “And no matter if we’re mad at each other or not, you still come to me, Gabe. That’s how this works. You’re my best friend, and you think I was mad the other day? I’ll be really mad if you get some kind of infection because you’re too stubborn to come let me fix you up.”
“Honey, you’re the one avoiding my calls. I texted you.”
She finally looks at me, and her eyes fill with tears. “You didn’t tell me you were hurt.”
“Fuck me, Chrissy. Don’t you dare cry, baby.”
She blinks, and a tear rolls down her cheek. I catch it with my finger and wipe it away. “I’m sorry, okay? No matter what, I’ll call you, okay? It wasn’t a big deal. I was climbing out a window and cut my arm. I’m okay. It doesn’t even hurt.”
I continue to ramble because I hate to see her upset. “I promise from now on, I will come to you if I’m hurt, okay?”
She sucks in a breath. “I’m going to give you a tetanus shot and sew you up.”
“Baby, you can do anything you want to me if you promise you won’t cry anymore.”
She waves me off. “I’m sorry. I hate it when we fight.”
I sit quietly and watch her work. She numbs me and winces when she starts the stitches. “I’m okay,” I assure her.
I refuse to show her any pain because I know she’ll feel bad about it.
When she’s almost done, I whisper, “I hate it when we argue too.”
She nods and sniffs. “I know.”
“Let’s not do it anymore,” I plead with her.
She finishes the last stitch and lifts her eyes to mine. “Fine. Don’t offer to have a baby with me.”