“Raylynn.” Kiersten lowered her voice. “That’s her!”
“Don’t call her over,” I mumbled under my breath. That bitch was psycho. I slept with her once. One time! And she all but stalked me for three months! Kiersten had really liked her and thought she was pretty; therefore, my opinion didn’t matter. And nothing would make Kiersten happier than to see me settle down and stop whoring around, or so she told me every few days when she felt the urge to mama-bear me. Little did she know it had been months, which felt like years, decades… Oh, hell. Who was I kidding? It felt like death.
“Oh look, she sees me!” Kiersten said happily.
“I wonder if it’s because you’re waving.”
“Stretching.”
“Waving.”
“Raylynn!” Kiersten said in a cheerful voice that sounded like she was a cheerleader in another life. “How have you been?”
“Good.”
All eyes turned to me.
I stared into my coffee. Kiersten kicked me under the table. With a curse I looked up and said, “Yo.”
“Yo?” Kiersten mouthed across the table.
“Er, hi.” Raylynn blushed.
Damn it.
Her pale complexion and bright blonde hair did nothing to hide the fact that she was embarrassed.
I tried again. “How have you been?”
“Busy.” She cleared her throat, her eyes darting between me and my coffee as if waiting for me to ask her to sit down or worse yet, ask her on another date.
And dead silence. Again. I suddenly experienced the exact definition of a pregnant pause.
“Well…” Kiersten cleared her throat loudly then kicked me under the table. “It was great seeing you!”
“You too.” Raylynn looked at me one last time then, shoulders slumping, walked off.
“You ass!” Kiersten kicked my shin again. “And yo? Did you say yo? No one as white as you should ever say that word. Ever. I don’t care if you get kidnapped and the only way to be free is to either say yo or gnaw your own arm off. Gnaw the arm, Gabe. Don’t say…yo.”
“Who said yo?” a male voice interrupted.
“Ah, Wolf.” I teased, happy that I wasn’t alone anymore with Kiersten’s peering eyes and difficult questions.
“Turtle,” he fired back.
“Gabe said yo.”
“Out loud?” Wes all but shouted. “Is he trying to get jumped?”
I groaned into my hands and waited for them to stop talking about me like I wasn’t there.
It was a regular occurrence with them. Kiersten would say something like I’m worried about Gabe, then Wes would say, Is he not eating? and I’d raise my hand and say, He’s just fine, he ate a burrito a half hour ago.
“Guys!” I snapped, and dropped my hands to the table. “I’m fine, everything is fine. I said yo, I’m gangster, deal with it.”
They both stared at me as if I’d just announced I was going to be a monk.
“I heard something this morning.” Wes reached for Kiersten’s coffee and took a long sip then leaned back against the chair. If I wasn’t his best friend I’d effing hate him. He was the ideal All American Football Star. Quarterback, dark blond hair, blue eyes, buff, easy going. Yup, I’d freaking hate him.
“Oh yeah?” My eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Gossip Girl, what did you hear?” I took a long sip of coffee.
“Dry spell.”
I spit out the coffee onto the table and all but choked to death. Damn Lisa, damn family, damn cousin. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“Right.” Wes licked his lips but dropped it. He leaned over and kissed Kiersten on the top of her head, then pulled her silky scarf tighter around her body.
That simple motion — almost made me lose it.
The tightening of a scarf — made me want to end my own life. If people only knew — if only I could trust people enough to tell, to explain, how wrecked I was on the inside.
But no. I was playing a part. I was Gabe. I would never be him again, I would never be my past again.
Kiersten laughed and kissed Wes’s nose.
It was too much. Everything was suddenly too much, and in that moment I knew. It was too much four years ago — my time was up. The storm cloud was coming. “Look guys, I gotta run.”
“Alright.” Kiersten barely took her eyes off Wes. “See you for Taco Tuesday?”
“Yup.” I didn’t turn around. I didn’t wave. I grabbed my shit, and I ran out that door like the fires of hell were licking at my heels.
Because for the first time in four years — the time bomb was about to go off and I wasn’t so sure how I was going to handle everything.
My phone went off with a text.
Puget Sound N: She needs you. Can you call and sing? Or maybe send her a picture text?
Oh look, the bomb… it was ticking.
Me: Yeah. I’ll call in a few.
Chapter Two
People will go through their entire lives justifying every damn decision…they’ll fight for all the wrong things, until finally the right thing stares at them square in the face. That’s when the choices start to matter. Because in the end, you’re a creature of habit. So you may want to choose right, but choose wrong in the end — because you’re so damn used to it. It’s tragic, then again, life’s tragic, don’t you think? —Wes M.
Gabe
“The dry spell’s really getting to you, isn’t it?” Lisa felt my forehead.