would hit him every time she set something down in his new bedroom, or stared at the space with as much appreciation as she had when he was still hunting for apartments. Every time they were removed from the others up until the moment they all left and she stayed behind, he would look at her and think: This should have been us. We should have been moving in here together.
But I blew it.
She'd already taken that big plunge with someone else. Someone who didn't take every solid show of loyalty and devotion as a tightening noose around his neck, like Gabriel had thought it was back in the day. Truth be told, this Gabriel was having a hard time understanding what that Gabriel had been so afraid of. Especially now, when he was drawn into the present by the sound of her voice, by her presence and her scent.
"Fuck me..." Nicole whispered excitedly at her find amidst his record collection. She pulled the record out of its protective sleeve, but he wasn't paying attention to what prompted her response. Her words had caught his attention, the gasped exclamation sent a thrill through his loins, tickled a trail of memories over his tan skin.
Fuck me... please Gabriel...
She put the record on, placed the needle to vinyl like it was some sort of sacred communion she was partaking in. Then she stepped back and waited with arms slightly raised. When music filled the room she sank into it like a warm bath, her entire body relaxing into steady movement. She was swaying and singing along, softly, so she didn't overtake the magic of the original artist, but loud enough for him to hear her sweet, girlish lilt pay homage to it.
Too late. Always too late. He wanted it all and now he was going to have to settle for this. He was going to have to settle for watching her sway to their favorite music with a distant smile on her face, and forget when he would get up and wrap his arms around her, kissing her neck until she turned and offered her lips up to his lust, his love.
Well... maybe he could take a little more? There was no danger of being close to her, not when she'd moved on so thoroughly from him. Maybe he could claim a little closeness, a little something to ease the aching transition from past to present.
He stood up, walked to her silently against the smooth floorboards.
"God, I love, love, love this song... remember the first time I heard it—"
"I remember," he whispered against her ear, placing one hand against her waist, which kept her from turning to face him like she was going to. The other enfolded a hand that had drifted into the air to ride the beat.
He heard her gasp, and felt her still against him.
"Don't get so tense," he heard himself say, fighting back the sadness. "It's not like I'm gonna kiss you or anything. Just dancing, that's all..."
"I know you're not," she whispered back. Her body relaxed in the tiniest of increments. "We're just friends. I know you weren't going to..."
"Just two friends reminiscing," he said softly, filling the space that his gesture might have wedged between them. It was forward and inappropriate. But it was honest, too. And somewhere along the way he had to figure out how to be honest around her again. It was killing him not to be and he didn't want to die for a lie anymore.
"Just dancing to one of our favorite songs, Nic..."
He heard her sigh and she leaned back. He heard himself swallow as he wrapped his other arm around the front of her with his hand still clasping hers, but somehow he managed to sway confidently to the beat. Confident and scared of that double-edged familiarity. Holding her was like listening to your favorite song, the one that broke your heart no matter how many times you heard it. The smell of her, the feel of her warm and pliant against his body made him physically ache. It would take less than a second to change everything, to lean down and kiss the smooth skin of her neck, and hear that sigh become a moan against his waiting lips.
It would be as simple as
But I blew it.
She'd already taken that big plunge with someone else. Someone who didn't take every solid show of loyalty and devotion as a tightening noose around his neck, like Gabriel had thought it was back in the day. Truth be told, this Gabriel was having a hard time understanding what that Gabriel had been so afraid of. Especially now, when he was drawn into the present by the sound of her voice, by her presence and her scent.
"Fuck me..." Nicole whispered excitedly at her find amidst his record collection. She pulled the record out of its protective sleeve, but he wasn't paying attention to what prompted her response. Her words had caught his attention, the gasped exclamation sent a thrill through his loins, tickled a trail of memories over his tan skin.
Fuck me... please Gabriel...
She put the record on, placed the needle to vinyl like it was some sort of sacred communion she was partaking in. Then she stepped back and waited with arms slightly raised. When music filled the room she sank into it like a warm bath, her entire body relaxing into steady movement. She was swaying and singing along, softly, so she didn't overtake the magic of the original artist, but loud enough for him to hear her sweet, girlish lilt pay homage to it.
Too late. Always too late. He wanted it all and now he was going to have to settle for this. He was going to have to settle for watching her sway to their favorite music with a distant smile on her face, and forget when he would get up and wrap his arms around her, kissing her neck until she turned and offered her lips up to his lust, his love.
Well... maybe he could take a little more? There was no danger of being close to her, not when she'd moved on so thoroughly from him. Maybe he could claim a little closeness, a little something to ease the aching transition from past to present.
He stood up, walked to her silently against the smooth floorboards.
"God, I love, love, love this song... remember the first time I heard it—"
"I remember," he whispered against her ear, placing one hand against her waist, which kept her from turning to face him like she was going to. The other enfolded a hand that had drifted into the air to ride the beat.
He heard her gasp, and felt her still against him.
"Don't get so tense," he heard himself say, fighting back the sadness. "It's not like I'm gonna kiss you or anything. Just dancing, that's all..."
"I know you're not," she whispered back. Her body relaxed in the tiniest of increments. "We're just friends. I know you weren't going to..."
"Just two friends reminiscing," he said softly, filling the space that his gesture might have wedged between them. It was forward and inappropriate. But it was honest, too. And somewhere along the way he had to figure out how to be honest around her again. It was killing him not to be and he didn't want to die for a lie anymore.
"Just dancing to one of our favorite songs, Nic..."
He heard her sigh and she leaned back. He heard himself swallow as he wrapped his other arm around the front of her with his hand still clasping hers, but somehow he managed to sway confidently to the beat. Confident and scared of that double-edged familiarity. Holding her was like listening to your favorite song, the one that broke your heart no matter how many times you heard it. The smell of her, the feel of her warm and pliant against his body made him physically ache. It would take less than a second to change everything, to lean down and kiss the smooth skin of her neck, and hear that sigh become a moan against his waiting lips.
It would be as simple as
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