Gabriella Ch. 09

When he released her mouth and rode out his own release, she held tightly to him as she stared up at the stars above secretly wishing it would always be that way. And that night, the indigo sky was brightly lit with more stars than she'd seen in years, so at least one was bound to catch her wish. Her prayer.

"Right there...shit!"

Terrence's cries yanked her from the comfort of the clouds, as she crashed back down to his cramped bedroom.

"Oh shit...shit!" His face contorted as his body jerked above hers. He let out a long groan and sank down on top of her.

She stared up at the beige ceiling with cracks and paint bubbles before her eyes shifted to the shadow of a moth as it fluttered about, trapped inside the florescent light. The small insect batted it's wings desperately before it fell completely still.

A tear tickled the side of her face as it slid down past her temple and into her hair.

"Oh fuck, that was good," Terrence mumbled into the pillow.

Ella wiped the tear track from her face and pushed an oblivious Terrence up. He exhaled and rolled over to his back.

She crawled over him and picked her bra and panties up from the floor and quickly dressed.

"Where you going?"

"Home," she answered, avoiding his gaze.

"Oh."

She pulled up her pants and searched around for her shirt, cursing as her barefoot squished one of the jizz filled condoms on the tile.

"You can stay if you want."

"Nah. I think it's best if we just kept it simple, right?" she said as she rolled her shirt down her stomach.

"Right...yeah."

She slipped on her heels and grabbed her jacket.

"Oh, hey, wait..."

She flipped the collar of her jacket and looked back at him.

"My boy Andre wants to meet you."

"Who?"

"Andre Kale."

When she didn't respond he raised a brow.

"Our starting point guard, Andre," he said with emphasis as if that would jar her memory.

She shook her head. "Don't keep up with sports, remember."

He laughed. "Anyway, I thought I'd introduce you."

"Why would..." Her fingers slowed after she adjusted the jacket button. "Oh."

"I just think you guys would hit it off." He shrugged. "And since I'll be busy this weekend, I figured you two could hang out."

It should have stung like it had in the past when guys passed her around. But something inside had broken months ago and she felt nothing as she stared back at him.

She gave a nod and opened the door.

"So, I'll let him know, okay?" He grinned. "But don't forget about me. Cuz you got me hooked on that tight—"

Ella slammed the door, cutting off whatever trite statement he was about to declare and made her way down the hall. The stuffy passage smelled of equal parts sweaty locker room and marijuana. Several doors were open as guys played video games or blasted loud music. More than half of the florescent lights were out or dim, but she avoided eye contact as she walked to the stairwell.

A tall auburn haired guy with a towel around his chiseled hips slowed as he past her, his eyes roving over her. She knew what he was thinking. The only girls who frequented Harding, the all-male dorm, this late were either hooking up or spying on a boyfriend and no doubt he knew which category she fell under.

She rushed down the stairs and out the glass doors. The cold night wind swept over her and dried Terrence's sweat against her skin creating an icky sensation that curled her stomach .

Soft snowflakes mixed with the winter wind made her teeth chatter, forcing her to pull her jacket tighter. With only a few kids scuffling about, the sights and sounds around campus seemed much different at night. Small light posts along the pathway cast a dark yellow glow onto the newly wet pavement that was sprinkled with dead leaves and small patches of ice.

She made her way past the library and student union building but slowed when Grayson Hall came into view. She stared at the old brick building and remembered the summer days her heart pounded with anticipation as she sprinted across campus trying to make it to Grayson Hall before Simon left for his next class. She'd burst through the doors, grinning from ear to ear, ignoring those who told her to 'watch out' or 'slow down' as she made her way down the hall, around the corner and to the second door on the right. She'd calm herself and run fingers through her hair, taming loose strands before she barged in.

Ella cupped her face to the cold glass doors and peered inside the dark empty hallway. It had been months since she'd been inside. Every day she fought the urge to see him, but fear of not knowing what to do when she did kept her far away from the west wing of campus. Far away from Grayson Hall. And far away from Simon.

She searched the streak free glass for any remnants of the words they had scrolled on the door several months back. But much like their relationship, there was no trace left to indicate any such words had existed.

Then she felt it. The burning sensation of regret behind her eyes right before the dam broke and tears spilled uncontrollably over the brim of her eyelids. She sniffed and choked back the sobs, but her body went limp and she crumpled to the sidewalk. She wiped at her nose and eyes as both continued to run, grateful that no one had witnessed her not-so-quiet and embarrassing breakdown.

She leaned back against the door once her emotions were under control and closed her eyes. She brushed away a lone tear and inhaled deeply. And then again. And again. She had endured many things in her twenty years and even though this was the hardest, she would survive it. There was really no other choice. Simon had obviously moved on and now she needed to as well. She stood and began making the trek to the bus stop but not before glancing over her shoulder at Grayson Hall one more time.

**********

Simon

The frosty air burned his nose and lungs as it coursed through him. Light flurries blurred his vision yet he picked up speed until he was in a full sprint. His body would pay the price later, but he was too chockfull of energy. Every night around the same hour, restlessness settled in, refusing to let him sleep. His head buzzed with white noise and the only thing that would quiet the uncomfortable intrusion was to expel as much energy as possible.

When he rounded their street, he pushed even harder hoping he would collapse on the lawn, but as always his body didn't give in to the fight. He heaved in huge gulps of air and sat down on the front steps. Their quiet suburban street looked picturesque with the untouched snow gently covering each lawn in a soft blanket of white. All the windows were darkened including his own, reminding him of a peace that eluded him. Even Patricia hadn't stirred as he slid out of bed and slipped on his running gear.

Since her return, most days seemed normal, at least on the surface. They talked, laughed, watched American Idol and argued over who was best. Then other days were slightly off, like a private Looking Glass reflecting their distorted version of normality. Little things that only a husband would notice about the woman he slept beside every night. A woman who he could decipher every emotion splayed across her face. Patricia had become more guarded in her affections. The same sweet kisses only her lips would pull away a second before his. Same warm embrace that would loosen a moment before he would.

Over time he learned to recognize and avoid certain triggers, which all had to do with Gabriella. Once he had walked into the kitchen while she prepared dinner. He was about to greet her, but remained quiet as she stared down at the pan. A moment later she removed a raw chicken breast and tossed it into the trash. The question 'why' was on the tip of his tongue until he saw her dilemma. She had seasoned three, not two pieces of chicken. When she noticed him she quickly brushed away a tear and asked about his day. But he knew he had already lost her in that moment and now any conversation for the rest of the evening was only a courtesy as his wife.

They had yet to discuss Gabriella's departure because there just never seemed to be an appropriate time to bring it up. Oh, by the way, sorry I roughed up your daughter and caused her to leave, but could you pass the potatoes?

There was also never a good time to bring up the fact that they hadn't had sex in months, but that was a subject he would not push. She needed time after his royal fuckups and he was going to give her all that she needed no matter how often he was reduced to jacking off in the shower.

He walked inside and didn't bother with the lights as he pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. The cool liquid coated his burning throat while his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark.

During the day he kept his mind busy with lesson plans, grading papers, staff meetings and the dozens of home improvements that needed to be completed. But in the deep of the night when time slowed down, memories that had been filed away long ago crept back to the surface of his conscience and played out before his eyes. The good, the bad...the really bad...and the really good.

It was only during these lonely hours he'd allow himself to think of Gabriella and the color that had now seemed void from his life. If Patricia was the softest, warmest shade of sunlight that kissed his skin, then Gabriella was the flash of vibrant neon yellow whose hue lingered beneath his lids long after he'd closed his eyes.

It was here in the kitchen that had started his descent into madness. What began as their usual push and pull morphed and twisted into the dangerous, draining, addictive game that they had played for nearly two years the night she stripped before him.

But if he were being honest, he had noticed her before that night. It was hard not to as she pranced around in every short tight outfit in the closet of a rebellious teenage girl. He saw the looks on men and boys faces as she walked by, her hips slightly swaying and he knew what they were thinking. He knew...

But he had always mentally and physically drawn a line.

Until that night, he had never encouraged anything. But after the deed was done, his constant hunger for her was the only encouragement she needed and soon the lines of lust and love blurred, tossing them both on a whirlwind rollercoaster that neither of them was prepared for.

He shook his head and quickly drained the bottle before tossing into the trash and walking into the garage.

He began chipping away the wasted time working on his bike. The night Patricia had left him and he dropped Gabriella off at Steven's, he had come home and emptied an entire bottle of Jack Daniels and half a bottle of Vodka into his system. Once all rational thought had left, he did an eenie-meenie-minie-moe between his hockey stick and baseball bat before the bat won, and he took out every ounce of frustration he had on his 1976 CZ classic.

By the end of the ordeal, the vintage bike was unrecognizable. The same motorcycle he'd spent almost ten years slowly restoring lay scattered everywhere in broken bits and pieces. But luckily he passed out, completely spent on the cold garage floor before his Yamaha could endure the same wrath.

"Shit." Simon felt around for the loose screw, but the tiny piece of metal skittered away. His head fell back against the concrete as he stared at the underside of the damaged motorcycle.

"It's beginning to look like a bike again."

He rolled his head to the side and found Patricia by the door. Her hair was tucked behind both ears and she wore an old Rangers jersey of his that swallowed up her petite frame. Her body was engraved into his memory from head to toe, including the bunny shaped birthmark that was on the inside of her left thigh, two inches from her sex that he'd kissed countless times.

"Still looks like a piece of scrap metal to me." He locked the bolt in place. "Did I wake you?"

She nodded and leaned against the door frame.

"I'm sorry."

"That's okay. Are you coming back to bed soon?"

"In a few minutes. I just want to get this on."

"Okay." She remained by the door, her eyes taking in the mess around him.

He sat up and wiped the grease from his hands. "Everything okay?"

"Long day I guess."

"Want to talk about it?"

Patricia shook her head and stepped down into the garage. He watched as she examined different tools on his work bench while carefully avoiding his gaze.

"How was the interview?"

"I didn't get it."

"Well, their loss, someone else's amazing gain. Could you hand me the socket wrench?"

"Which one is that?"

He stood, dusted off his sweatpants and grabbed the shiny tool to her left, locking her body between his and the table, much like he had earlier that morning when she rebuffed him.

"This one," he whispered so close to her ear, he heard her soft gasp.

She looked up at him, her large hazel eyes tugging at his heart and conscience as they glazed over. Eyes so much like Gabriella's, yet so different.

He leaned his forehead against hers and squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the day fate had given him a second chance with the woman he'd fallen for years before. Seemed like a lifetime ago. She had smiled and laughed at the small bagel shop as they discussed things that had happened since they'd last seen each other in college. He remembered their first conversation almost word for word. Patricia had been even more stunning than the twenty-year-old he remembered from school. He admitted to the major crush he had on her and how he wasn't able to shake her from his mind. He hung onto every word, hoping she would accept when he finally asked her out.

"I've loved you for such a long time," he croaked out. He took several deep breaths to avoid any embarrassing unwanted emotion. "And I'm so sorry I hurt you. You have no idea how sorry I am. For everything."

There was no way for her to understand what 'everything' encompassed, but he needed to say it, if anything to soothe his own guilt for a brief moment.

Several minutes passed and when he opened his eyes, hers were closed and two thin tear tracks ran from each eyelid. He gently kissed her warm cheeks, wiping the salty sadness away. Soon her arms wrapped around his waist and her lips found his. He wanted to absorb her pain and if he could have done it through kissing, sex...or setting himself on fire, he would have at that moment. He wanted things back the way they were before he screwed everything up. Before she cried herself to sleep at night. Before her smiles disappeared. Before Gabriella...

Hunger, anger, desire and guilt surged through his veins as he devoured her mouth. He jerked the oversized jersey over her head in one swoop and connected his lips, teeth and tongue back to hers.

"Simon," she gasped out and pushed at his chest, but his body wouldn't cave. Not this time.

He picked her up and walked her back into the house, his mouth tasting every inch of her neck, shoulders...anything he could kiss as her moans sent an electric current straight to his dick. He dropped to his knees in the hallway and gently laid her down, refusing to waste another second trekking to the bedroom.

His hands shook as he peeled off her panties and fumbled with his pants and boxers.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, a gesture Gabriella had adopted as well, and he couldn't wait a second longer before he slammed his entire length inside her.

She inhaled sharply as he pulled out and buried his cock deep and hard into her again. Her warm velvety center squeezed him, setting his insides ablaze as he wildly thrust into her, wanting to mold their bodies into one.

Wild guttural noises filled the narrow hallway and soon he realized they were coming from deep within him. He felt lust crazy as he pinned her wrists to the floor above her head and lapped at her breasts and any other patch of dark caramel his tongue came into contact with. Heat and sweat rolled down his spine while he watched every sensation float across her face before she squeezed her eyes shut. He wanted to ease up and comfort her but his body and mind had long since separated as he continued to pummel her wet core into oblivion.

Her mouth moved as she began to shake but he couldn't hear past the blood rushing through his ears. Tiny prickles ripped through every pore in his body before culminating at the base of his dick.

"Oh, God...fuck!" He pushed deep into her as he released everything he had left. Every feeling, emotional and physical ignited throughout his body, sparking the most intense orgasm before his brain overloaded, leaving him an incoherent mass of nerves.

His energy slowly waned but his hips continued to grind into her, albeit slower and steadier until his body finally gave in and he collapsed on top of her.

They both breathed heavily for several seconds before he rolled off and stared up at the ceiling. His knees were raw and burned from the hardwood floor, but his mind spun the longer Patricia remained silent beside him. He had never lost control and been so rough with her during sex and now he worried that he had crossed an unforgivable line.

He struggled to catch his breath as he wet his lips. "Honey...I don't know what the hell came over me." He leaned over her. "Did I hurt you?"

She opened her eyes, her expression softer than he was expecting. "I..."

He held his breath and braced for the worst.

"...kinda liked it."

"Shit, I know, I'm—what?"

She raised her hand to his face and gently caressed his cheek. "I said I liked it. I really liked it."

"You just..." He lowered his mouth to hers. "...amaze the hell out of me. I thought I had committed some form of spousal rape."

She laughed. "No. But next time give me a warning." She winced when she sat up. "Because I think you shoved my womb aside."

He fell back to the floor and laughed, pulling her on top of him. "I'll make sure to remember that." He pushed her hair from her face. "God, I love you."

"I love you too," she said and planted a light kiss on his lips.

Quietness settled over the narrow hallway as they both escaped into their own thoughts. He mindlessly stroked her soft back while she rested her head over his heart.

"Simon?"

"Hmm?"

Several seconds passed before she said anything. He pulled her further up his body until she was closer to his face.

"What's wrong, honey?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes as her fingers lightly drew shapes over his chest. "This sounds crazy, but when I was at Myra's, she said...I mean, she thought..."

A strange feeling flowed through him as her eyes glassed over. "She thought what?"

"Nothing. I'm just being stupid."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I guess I just haven't felt like myself since Ella left."

"I know," he whispered. Neither had he.

"I just...I wish she would at least take my calls."

"Maybe you should go see her."

She scoffed. "Yeah, that will go over really well with her. I don't need to give her any more reasons to hate me."

"She doesn't hate you. She's tried to, but it hasn't quite worked."

"Well, she's very convincing." Patricia sighed. "You know, whoever said parenting was rewarding was full of shit."

Simon burst into laughter.

"I'm serious," she said, but failed to stifle her own laugh.

"Oh shit..." His sides cramped as his eyes teared up. He fought to control his last few chuckles, the spontaneous release feeling almost as good as sex.

She shoved at his chest. "You can laugh, but it's absolutely terrifying. You're constantly anxious that you're going to screw them up and what's worse is you won't even know it until it's too late."

He rubbed her back. "I know, honey. But that was the funniest thing I've heard in a long time." He kissed her. "I needed that."