Gabe's cologne lingers in the air long after he walks past me, an intoxicating blend of sandalwood and something else- jasmine? It's different from what he used to wear- what I remember him wearing. My skin prickles and I hate how aware I am of every step he takes. He's not looking at me, yet I feel the weight of him all the same. God, I mean the room is barely big enough for one person to move around comfortably, yet here he is, all six-foot-plus of him, taking up space like he owns the place.
Never in my life have I ever felt like a man's presence took up the entire room, until now.
This shouldn't be happening. He was my husband, my betrayer, and now... just a stranger... how do I make sense of any of this? Of his mouth on mine less than an hour back?
And what is this electric pull between us that wasn't there before- throughout our entire marriage?
This is different. It's not the steady, resigned comfort I remember from our marriage- not even in the early stages. This is raw, something molten curling inside me. It's dangerous, and I know it, but it clings to me like static.
"Coffee?" he asks, glancing at me over his shoulder. It warms my heart because it reminds me of how caring he was during our marriage. It was something he asked me almost every morning when I joined him in the kitchen. His tone is casual, disinterested even, but it doesn't match the way his shirt stretches across his shoulders or the way his forearms flex when he reaches for the hotel's phone. But in the now, he has no idea how or if I liked coffee, after all, I ordered tea in the cafe the day we had brunch.
"Sure," I say, though my voice comes out strained. I clear my throat and busy myself with my phone, once again, scrolling aimlessly to avoid watching him. Might I add, life is sort of boring with T*kT*k.
After that heated kiss outside my parents' kitchen window, we'd come back to the hotel room and sat down- both going through our phones until Gabe got up just now.
I remind myself why I'm here- why I requested him to rent this room, why I've been clinging to his presence like a lifeline. It's not about him; it's about my mother and Avrielle. Their deaths are a storm looming on the horizon, and every hour that passes brings it closer.
Minutes later, the coffee arrives and under hooded eyes, I watch him open the door and collect the tray, thanking the staff. I wonder then how much this service and stay would cost him. I couldn't rent it using my card because my parents would know I wasn't where I was supposed to be. But yet, I do not feel a twinge of embarrassment that Gabe is paying for the room. Nor do I feel remorseful about it- I am that comfortable with him- even though he had no clue as to who I am.
Poor Gabe. He must be thinking I am some floosy. And that he is getting lucky tonight.
I swallow hard- what if he is this type of person? This is him before I knew him. A brand-new adult- now experiencing things in life. This is not the man I knew but the pre-version of him...
But then he hands me the coffee, his fingers brushing mine for the briefest moment, and the storm inside me shifts. Forget what he is thinking, it's me I am worried about. Me, he should be worried about. Would I jump him?
"Thanks," I mumble, staring into the dark liquid like it might hold the answers I need.
"Are you okay?" he asks, sitting on the one single chair. It's like routine with us here, I sit on the bed, he sits on the chair. He's watching me now, his brow furrowed just enough to make him look concerned but not overly invested.
I nod too quickly. "Yeah. Just tired." Gabe's eyebrow perched and he is hiding a grin. He's thinking dirty like me I see. Possibly he knows I am lying, and the grin is him knowing he has me all... frizzled.
It's a lie, of course. Sleep has been a stranger to me these past few days, but exhaustion isn't the problem tonight. The problem is him. His presence, his scent, the way he looks at me like he's trying to figure me out. This younger version of him that is either trying to seem mature- or he actually is mature. And me, knowing the older him, knows me all too well.
"Are you sure?" he presses, taking a sip from his own mug. His lips curve around the rim in a way that makes my pulse quicken. Then he crosses his legs and leans back onto the chair.
"Gabe," I snap, more sharply than I intend. "I'm fine. Drop it." I'm horny and he knows it. How the f#ck am I that easy? Is it now because I am younger, and I have all these hormones scrambling around... or is it him?
He raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by my tone, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he shrugs and turns his attention back to his coffee, leaving me to wrestle with the chaos in my head.
I can't do this.
But then he moves again, brushing past me on his way to the small table by the window and my eyes are feasting on his muscular thighs and backside. It's like a spark igniting a fire I can't control.
Hormones nothing. It's him, definitely him.
"Megara," he says suddenly, his voice softer now. "Why did you ask me to stay with you?"
The question catches me off guard, and I freeze. He's looking at me again, his puplis dilate, and between my legs pool. His silver eyes make it so easy to spot. Either that or he is angry. Gabe is releasing dopamine and oxytocin, also known as 'love hormones' and I turn my head away. Because of his eyes, he was easy to read. "I told you," I say, forcing the words out. "I didn't want to be alone."
"That's not the whole truth," he counters, setting his mug down. "You're scared of something. What is it? Why don't you want to be alone, Megara?"
I turn away, pretending to be interested in the view outside the window from the bed. From here, it's just sky and scattered clouds.
"It's complicated," I murmur, hoping he'll drop it. But he doesn't. He crosses the room in three long strides, stopping just a foot away from me causing my heart to flutter.
"You're not making this easy, you know," he says, his tone teasing but edged with something serious.
"Making what easy?" I ask, finally meeting his eyes. I sound brave but my stomach is in coils, his aura to me is magnetic. An invisible force within me that dares me to linger my eyes on him.
"Figuring you out," he admits, and there's something raw in his voice that makes my chest tighten.
"I come from the future to play with your brains," I say but I smirk, dropping the phone to my side and entwining my fingers together nervously. The way his eyes are on me is just too much. The room needs to air out. This pull this...building static.
I should create some distance before this gets out of hand. But I don't. Instead, I hold his gaze, daring him to see the mess of emotions I'm barely holding together.
"You're impossible," he says, but there's no bite to his words. If anything, he sounds...amused as he takes the last step to reach the bed's edge.
I swallow hard, my throat dry. "And you're infuriating," I shoot back, though my voice lacks conviction. A thrumming undercurrent is making my skin prickle.
He laughs softly, and the sound wraps around me like a warm blanket, and yet, the air crackles between us. Everything else fades- the looming tragedy, the weight of my mission, even the guilt gnawing at the edges of my mind. All that exists is him, standing so close I can feel the heat radiating off his skin.
This is wrong. I know it's wrong, but I can't bring myself to step away. Wrong because he belongs to Cassandra, not me at this moment. Am I that person? That person who finds herself with another, knowing they're with someone else? Then I think about the future where Cassandra took him when he was mine.
"Meg," he says, his voice low and almost...gentle.
It's the way he used to say my name in the quiet moments of our marriage when we weren't fighting or pretending everything was fine. Intimate moments.
"I need some air," I blurt, pushing past him before I can lose myself completely. The cool night air hits me like a lifeline, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. This isn't the time for distractions. Gabe is a complication I can't afford, no matter how much my body betrays me every time he's near.
I lean against the balcony railing, staring out at the city lights. They blur together, a kaleidoscope of colors that matches the chaos in my head with one thought- why isn't Gabe leaving like he has the other two previous nights?
"Meg," Gabe says, his voice soft but insistent behind me nearly a minute later, but I don't turn around. "Go back inside, Gabe."
"I'm not leaving you out here alone," he says, and there's a stubbornness in his tone that I recognize all too well. He holds one of my hand and I am once again gazing into his gray orbs, the weight of his observing stare, is unbearable.
No, I am not 'out here alone' am I? I am in a safe hotel. I am safe but everything but this- whatever this is between us. I sigh, closing my eyes. "Why do you care?"
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy and loaded. It's not about being safe but really why he's here and not leaving to return the next day, like he had Monday and Tuesday night?
"Because I do," he says simply, and for a moment, I almost believe him.
Almost. But I know the real Gabriel Adkins. The one that will leave me cold and shivering even when I tell him I was pregnant with his baby- no, the doctor told him by mistake when I forgot to pick up my pills and that was the cement for him to leave me, wasn't it?
How cruel life has treated me.