Josh

JOSH

I have some regrets, and most of them boil down to one thing.

I look like shit.

I mean, I figured it was good enough for my grandparents because after hearing that I’m jobless and about to be education-less, they’ll pretty much figure this messy, haven’t-showered-in-two-days look is in the cards for me anyway.

But Gabriel…

Gabriel looks good. So. Very. Good. Kind of gorgeous, actually.

He’s in a pair of those charcoal-gray slacks he loves so much, and a nice, dark green sweater. He has his coat thrown over his forearm, and he’s holding a scarf and a pair of leather gloves.

I don’t think he could look cooler and more sophisticated if he actively tried.

And here I am in a pair of pajama bottoms and a worn T-shirt of indistinct color, since it’s been washed so many times over the years it just has a faint, drab grayish hue to it.

“Morning,” he says when I fail to produce a greeting.

Cool.

Sophisticated.

“Yeah. Uh.” I clear my throat. “Hi.”

Awkward.

Stupid.

We look at each other. Him calmly. Me with a side of fidgeting. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, eyes going everywhere but at him.

I clear my throat again.

“What… what are you doing here?”

He looks down at his feet for a quick second, but after that, he aims his gaze straight at me.

“I went home.” He sends me a quick look that for some reason seems expectant, before he adds, “Vermont. My parents have a house there.”

My throat feels just a bit too dry, and my heartbeat is just a bit too fast.

“Then how are you here?”

“Can I come in?” he asks, instead of answering.

“Umm…” I glance behind myself. “I didn’t really expect anybody to—” I shake my head. “Sure.”

I push the door open wider, and he steps inside. He hangs up his jacket and toes off his shoes, and then I follow him into the living room.

He stops by the sofa-bed, looking at it for a moment before he focuses back on me.

I’d offer him something to drink, but I don’t think I actually have anything to offer, so I refrain.

“What brings you by?” Looking straight at him still seems like an impossible task, so I revert to occasional glances.

“I’ve been thinking about the conversation we were having,” he says. Unlike me, he has no trouble keeping his gaze on me.

“At the party?” he prompts when I don’t say anything.

I… Can that exchange even be called a conversation? I don’t think we talked about anything at all. At least, there wasn’t anything that would require somebody to analyze what was said.

“Okay?” I say slowly because I’m not sure where he’s going with this.

“The waiter with the hors d’oeuvres?” he continues, still with that expression that says he’s expecting me to understand something.

“Yeah, I remember him.”

“There were cherries in the ones with goat’s cheese.” He’s staring at me so intently that I’m starting to feel bad that I’m obviously dim and not getting what he’s saying.

“Those weren’t that good anyway. I mean, I know you can’t have those because of the whole—” I gesture toward his ears. “I’m just saying you didn’t miss much.”

He’s starting to look exasperated now, which is a welcome change. That’s familiar. Maybe we can move past this awkwardness and just go back to how things usually are.

Gabriel looks up at the ceiling for a moment and mutters something under his breath before he lowers his head and looks at me.

Cool.

Sophisticated.

Eyes burning with an extra layer of determination.

He takes a step closer.

“ua,” he says in a low voice, “how did you know I’m allergic to cherries?”

I stare back, uncomprehending at first, but then…

I meet his gaze, heart picking up speed.

I lick my dry lips.

“You must’ve mentioned it sometime.”

He shakes his head. “I have never told you about that.”

I let out a nervous laugh and drag my hand through my hair. “Clearly you did. How else would I know?”

He huffs out a breath and his jaw tightens, and when he speaks again, his voice is low and fierce.

“You get hit on a lot. I mean way too much, which really makes me question why the hell you keep falling for the absolute worst pickup lines when you clearly have plenty of people interested in you. You also date a lot of real dickheads, except for Alan, apparently because he seduced you with your love for hyena stickers.”

I swallow through the dryness in my throat.

“You get dumped a lot,” I say faintly, then clear my throat again.

“You seem to think I’m a robot who only consumes necessary nutrients, which makes ice cream an extravagance.”

“You grew up on a berry farm, but you’re actually more of a city boy at heart.”

“You hate cilantro because it tastes like stink bugs.”

“You don’t like stupid questions.”

“My mother thinks I’d get horribly bored with someone who doesn’t argue with me and challenge me and be annoying and irritating and… and… lovely. In his own very specific way.”

I can’t seem to breathe anymore.

“How?” I croak before I let out a hysterical snort of laughter.

How the fuck?

This is impossible.

“Hell if I know,” Gabriel says. “Believe me, I was sorely tempted to go get my brain checked.”

“And did you?”

“My insurance doesn’t cover random brain scans.”

I blow out a big breath.

“So we’re saying it was… what, real?”

“No.” He scoffs as if on instinct before he shakes his head, cards his fingers through his hair, and pulls. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a first.”

Instead of sniping back, a slow grin tugs at his lips.

And he takes a step closer.

There’s a look on his face. That same determination from before, but this time it’s mixed with something raw. Something almost needy. Something that looks a lot like?—

He’s pressed against me now. So close I can breathe him in.

My breath gets stuck in my chest.

“Gabriel.”

His hand goes to the back of my head, fingers clutching my hair. His eyes search mine for a moment. My lips part on a soft exhale.

His mouth comes down on mine.

The first touch is soft, but it’s also like lighting a match. We pull until we’re flush against each other, both moving at once. My arms wrap around him, and his wrap around me. Mouths explore one another.

Last time he took me by surprise with the kiss, and I was too stunned to really compute what was happening, let alone enjoy the moment. It was fast and bright and had a dreamlike quality to it.

This is real. All of it. Every breath and swipe of his tongue over mine. It’s real. And addictive.

He pulls away from me but stays close, forehead pressed against forehead. Gabriel has a dazed look in his eyes. I’m sure it mirrors mine.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he breathes out.

My heart pounds.

“I didn’t know I wanted to do this until you did it,” I say.

His lips quirk into a smile. “Well, I have always been faster than you.”

“You’re ruining our moment. Typical.”

His smile stretches wider, and then he’s laughing.

“No. I’m making this moment uniquely and completely ours.”

“This is so not?—”

He shuts me up with another kiss.

I wrap my arms around his neck and let him have this one.