do, how to play it.
He, on the other hand, seemed reserved but comfortable, which made sense. From what she’d heard and seen throughout the years, he had more experience with one-night stands than she did. She was a serial monogamist, while he’d slept around like crazy, and as such was accustomed to the post-booty chat session.
How many women had he made breakfast for?
It made her sick to think about it.
Finally, deciding to be as cool as he was, she nodded. She walked as calmly as she could manage to the fridge, brought the juice to the table, and poured herself a glass. “Would you like some?”
“No thanks.”
“You sure? This is fantastic,” she said after she drank a big swallow of the tart orange juice.
He said nothing, just continued staring at her with a blank expression. It made her more nervous, which made her start to get angry—with him, herself, and the whole situation. Before she even knew what was going to come out of her mouth, she’d tilted her chin defiantly and said, “Not as fantastic as the orgasms we gave each other last night, of course.”
His eyes widened briefly and for a moment Brianne thought she had managed to break the chilly atmosphere, that he would smile at her and everything would be okay, but her heart sank when his jaw muscles clenched. “They were fantastic,” he said. “It was my pleasure. Too much so. Because I didn’t use a condom.”
He made the statement baldly. Taking ownership for his carelessness, when the responsibility was just as much hers.
“I’m on the pill. And I’m healthy. Are you?”
He nodded. “Yes, I am,” he said, even though she hadn’t really expected him to say otherwise.
“So…now what?” she said, hoping that despite his distant attitude this morning, he’d say he wanted to be with her again.
“Now we put this behind us,” he said. “It’s not going to happen again. Eric’s my best friend and there’s obviously complicated shit going on with you two. We don’t need our fucking to complicate things even more.”
She winced at his choice of words and glared at him. “So that’s what last night was? Fucking?”
“Wasn’t it?”
“You tell me.”
He went ramrod straight and clenched his silverware so tightly, his knuckles went white. “How can I tell you anything? What do you think last night was? Because I don’t usually fuck girls when they think I’m a goddamn dream man, Brianne.”
The expression on his face was filled with hurt, so much so that Brianne was momentarily speechless. What could she say, anyway? She had thought she was dreaming, but she also knew it wasn’t a one-time thing. That she’d dreamed of Gabe so often. And that she’d longed for dreams to be reality far too many times.
At her continued silence, his hand cut through the air. “Right. So we made a mistake. End of story. We both had a fucking awesome time, but I went too far and you’re not my girl, and I don’t want you to be. I’d appreciate it if we could just forget about last night and move on. Please.” His expression was completely cold now. He’d retreated behind walls she couldn’t possibly break down, or even climb over.
You’re not my girl, and I don’t want you to be.
I don’t want you to be.
It was that statement she heard louder than anything else.
And it was that statement she responded to.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. We did make a mistake. A terrible mistake. And yes, we can forget about it and move on. I don’t want anything from you either, Gabe. But I—I still care for you. And last night…last night was so good.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she struggled to hold them back.
His eyes flickered and his face softened. He came around the counter to stand before her, placing his big hands on her shoulders. “I care for you, too, Brianne. But let’s not confuse things. A couple of weeks ago you were engaged to Eric, one of the best men I know. You two love each other. We had great sex last
He, on the other hand, seemed reserved but comfortable, which made sense. From what she’d heard and seen throughout the years, he had more experience with one-night stands than she did. She was a serial monogamist, while he’d slept around like crazy, and as such was accustomed to the post-booty chat session.
How many women had he made breakfast for?
It made her sick to think about it.
Finally, deciding to be as cool as he was, she nodded. She walked as calmly as she could manage to the fridge, brought the juice to the table, and poured herself a glass. “Would you like some?”
“No thanks.”
“You sure? This is fantastic,” she said after she drank a big swallow of the tart orange juice.
He said nothing, just continued staring at her with a blank expression. It made her more nervous, which made her start to get angry—with him, herself, and the whole situation. Before she even knew what was going to come out of her mouth, she’d tilted her chin defiantly and said, “Not as fantastic as the orgasms we gave each other last night, of course.”
His eyes widened briefly and for a moment Brianne thought she had managed to break the chilly atmosphere, that he would smile at her and everything would be okay, but her heart sank when his jaw muscles clenched. “They were fantastic,” he said. “It was my pleasure. Too much so. Because I didn’t use a condom.”
He made the statement baldly. Taking ownership for his carelessness, when the responsibility was just as much hers.
“I’m on the pill. And I’m healthy. Are you?”
He nodded. “Yes, I am,” he said, even though she hadn’t really expected him to say otherwise.
“So…now what?” she said, hoping that despite his distant attitude this morning, he’d say he wanted to be with her again.
“Now we put this behind us,” he said. “It’s not going to happen again. Eric’s my best friend and there’s obviously complicated shit going on with you two. We don’t need our fucking to complicate things even more.”
She winced at his choice of words and glared at him. “So that’s what last night was? Fucking?”
“Wasn’t it?”
“You tell me.”
He went ramrod straight and clenched his silverware so tightly, his knuckles went white. “How can I tell you anything? What do you think last night was? Because I don’t usually fuck girls when they think I’m a goddamn dream man, Brianne.”
The expression on his face was filled with hurt, so much so that Brianne was momentarily speechless. What could she say, anyway? She had thought she was dreaming, but she also knew it wasn’t a one-time thing. That she’d dreamed of Gabe so often. And that she’d longed for dreams to be reality far too many times.
At her continued silence, his hand cut through the air. “Right. So we made a mistake. End of story. We both had a fucking awesome time, but I went too far and you’re not my girl, and I don’t want you to be. I’d appreciate it if we could just forget about last night and move on. Please.” His expression was completely cold now. He’d retreated behind walls she couldn’t possibly break down, or even climb over.
You’re not my girl, and I don’t want you to be.
I don’t want you to be.
It was that statement she heard louder than anything else.
And it was that statement she responded to.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. We did make a mistake. A terrible mistake. And yes, we can forget about it and move on. I don’t want anything from you either, Gabe. But I—I still care for you. And last night…last night was so good.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she struggled to hold them back.
His eyes flickered and his face softened. He came around the counter to stand before her, placing his big hands on her shoulders. “I care for you, too, Brianne. But let’s not confuse things. A couple of weeks ago you were engaged to Eric, one of the best men I know. You two love each other. We had great sex last
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