Dressed in Chelsea boots, faded blue jeans, and a black long-sleeved shirt folded to just over his elbows, I feel my mouth goes dry. Every time he's within my eyesight, a tension that coils low in my stomach, a pull that I can't define but can't seem to resist either. Gabriel isn't doing anything extraordinary. He's minding his business, simply standing a few feet away, his attention on his phone in the privacy of his own home. Yet his presence is magnetic, an invisible force drawing my attention to him, daring me to look longer, to linger.
My mother's laughter caught with Gabe's mother's warms and melts my heart, and my eyes moisten.
Gabe's house feels eerily quiet when I step inside. I had slipped in through the side door while everyone was outside in the backyard, and now I'm standing in his foyer, trying to steady my breathing. The place is modern but warm, with clean lines and muted tones of cream and gray that make it feel both inviting and impersonal at the same time. It's so different from the lived-in chaos of my family's house.
Having been here many times in the past- my past not the timeline now- I creep through the hallway, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet beneath me. The scent of something faintly similar to citrus lingers in the air. Everything about this house screams understated luxury, but there's a sterile quality like it hasn't been lived in- really lived in. Gabe said being an only child and not being very 'outdoorsy' had his childhood home the way it was- pristine.
Making my way round the back, I take in the scene. Douglas, Gabe's father, is holding a pair of tongs, standing behind a pit while my father is holding something in a bowl out to him. Linda, my mother-in-law... Gabe's mother is pouring wine into goblets while my mother is sitting and opening up a board game. Gabe isn't here because I passed him by the pool on the other side when I sneaked in.
Because I know where Gabe's room is, I head upstairs to the far end of the hallway, and when I push the door open, I'm struck by how neat it is. His king-size bed, which dominates the room, is perfectly made with a dark gray comforter and crisp sheets, a paler shade of gray. But I know that's not him but the maid's doings.
Everything is nearly identical to the older version of him, I know.
A large desk sits by the window, stacked with textbooks, folders, and neatly arranged papers. The only bright colors in his room are the paperclips, highlighters, and sticky pads- all on top of his desk. The walls are bare except for two single-framed photographs on different walls. One of a mountain range, and the other of his parents smiling proudly. This very photo and frame with them is inside our house. The ache in my chest swells and I quickly look away as guilt over their deaths starts surging in. His nightstand holds nothing but a glass of water and an alarm clock.
Peeking out the window, I see the trees in the backyard where the bar-b-que is taking place, but I cannot see them because of the roof overhead. I sit on the edge of his bed, my pulse racing. What am I even doing here? Hiding in Gabe's room feels reckless and stupid, but the idea of facing my parents- or his out there is and would be unexplainable if I am found out. I close my eyes and try to calm the storm of thoughts in my head.
Minutes later, I hear the door creak open.
During this time I called both Liz and Avrielle, pretending I had a hard day today and was tired and sleepy. Avrille brings up Gabe again, but I talk her down, saying it was something new and I was only exploring with him a bit. It was half the truth.
I do not call my parents because I can tell where they are and what they're up to but I do chew my nails off to the nubs, anxiety shooting through me over if I fail my purpose.
Now, in the darkened room, I jump to my feet, heart pounding, but it's only Gabe. I recognize his silhouette. He steps inside, closing the door behind him quietly.
"They'll notice I'm gone if I stay in here too long," he says, his voice low but firm. "You should've told me you were coming." He speaks as if we've known each other a long while.
He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to help you, Meg, but this? This is insane. I can't keep sneaking around like this. And making up parties as I go along. What's going on?" He speaks of him sneaking around, literally after catching me sneaking into his house. But I do not dwell on his genuine sounding concern or why he seemed to be so connected to me.
Instead, I look away, guilt clawing at me. "I just... Please, just go back out there and keep them distracted." He needs to change up the whole chain of whatever events. My dad might make a phone call he had not or perhaps- too busy to make that call. A chain reaction would happen and voila- Mom and Twinzie are safe.
At first, I could tell he wants to question me more but his gaze softens, slightly. "Fine. I'm doing this for you even though you're not letting me in on the why."
He pulls me in and kisses me quickly, taking my breath with it.
With that, he turns and leaves, and I'm alone again. I sit on the bed, staring at the closed door, my thoughts racing and my heart racing. Why does he keep on kissing me? If he continues, then he will be proving what I said to my twin a whole lie.
Downstairs, I can hear faint laughter and the clinking of glasses as our families enjoy the barbecue, from the open window. The knowledge that my parents and his parents are out there together feels surreal. I want to join them- to share this moment we've never had but one we had always said we wanted.
After a while, the tension drains from me, and I let myself lie back against the pillows.
Gabe comes in again, maybe forty-five minutes later, flipping on the light switch and coming to the foot of the bed where I am now sitting up, with a plate of food and a glass of orange juice. "Your parents and mine get along too well," he says after a moment. "I think my Mom wants to adopt yours."
Despite myself, I let out a soft laugh. "That sounds like her."
"It does." He pauses at the same time I caught what I had said but he did not seem to notice I spoke as if I knew the woman. "Meg, whatever's going on with you, you don't have to handle it alone."
His words are like a knife to my resolve, cutting through the walls I've built. But I can't let them fall. Not yet. "I'm fine, Gabe. Really."
He watches me for a long moment, then nods, as if accepting the lie for now. "I should go check on them before they notice I'm missing. Eat, okay?"
The air in his room feels heavier as the minutes stretch into an hour. Eventually, exhaustion catches up to me. I sink into his bed, curling up under the navy comforter, letting my mind drift. Save Mom. Save Avrielle. Stay invisible. The mantra repeats until I drift into a restless sleep.
---
When I wake up, it takes a moment for my surroundings to register because everything feels so right. Gabe is snuggled up against me and- Gabe hasn't snuggled up against me in months- wait- my eyes widened. The blood drains from me because I can feel his steel-bar arm between my bre@sts hugging me from behind, my body curved into his. His hot breath against my neck.
Lit only by the faint glow of the moon through the window, I shift slightly, my body stiffening when it all comes rushing back.
About to have a heart attack, I glance over my shoulder. Gabe's face is inches from mine, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and steady. One arm is under my head, and the other- well you know where it is...
Sensing me moving he mumbles something incoherent, and the hand moves and takes hold of one of my b**bs. My n*ppl* react instantly.
Heat rushes all over me and my mind goes into chaos when I grasp the situation. Pulling the sheet down slightly, terrified of what I might find, but relief washes over me when I see that we're both fully dressed- well, mostly. Gabe's shirt is missing, but he's still wearing jeans, and I'm still in the sweater and leggings I had on earlier.
I glance at the nightstand where the digital blue numbers tell me the time. 4:08.
Carefully, I shift his arm off me and sit up, trying to make sense of what just happened. Why is he here? Did he come back to check on me and fall asleep? Or was this intentional? It's his bed, I know, but he could have awakened me.
I turn to look at him again, and something inside me twists. He looks so different like this unguarded- so human. His hair is tousled, and there's a faint crease on his cheek where it had been pressed against the pillow. It's a side of him I've seen before, and it makes my chest ache in a way I don't understand because it feels so different all the same.
I should wake him up. I should demand answers. But instead, I find myself lying back down, careful not to wake him as I settle into the warmth of his presence. For a moment, just a moment, I let myself forget everything we've been through. The lies, the secrets, the panic of the baby we lost, and focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Sleep claims me again before I can think too much about what this means.