Toxic

  He pushed away from the wall. “Why, you open for business?”

  “Turtle!” Lisa shouted and stomped her foot.

  The room fell silent.

  I burst into a fit of laughter. “Turtle? Seriously?”

  Gabe rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as if every word out of my mouth was causing his head to pound.

  “Sorry, Gabe,” Lisa whispered and wiped her hands on her crazy looking Jalapeño apron. “I had a virgin margarita.”

  “Sugar makes you crazy,” Gabe said, crossing his arms over his chest, “And yeah, it’s my nickname. Why? You into nicknames and role play? Shit like that get your engine going?”

  “Ew, Gabe.” Kiersten walked over to us and put her hands up n the air. “I’m just going to stop you now before both feet end up in your mouth and you lose the ability to walk. Repeat after me, Hi…” She paused and looked at me. “What’s your name?”

  “Saylor.”

  “Hi, Saylor. Nice to meet you. I’m Gabe, and I promise I’m not as big of an asshole as you think I am. I promise to keep all parts in my pants, and I swear that if I attack you one more time, Kiersten has full permission to castrate me in my sleep.”

  Gabe glared and held out his hand. “Saylor, it’s a pleasure meeting you.” His teeth were clenched so tight his jaw flexed. I’d never seen a guy with so many tattoos and piercings… never in my life would I ever imagine it would look so damn hot, but on him it did. And I wanted to hate him for it.

  Because the opposite meant I liked it.

  His face had just enough of a five o’clock shadow to be dangerous for any female with a pair of good working eyes. His dark as sin hair hung almost to his chin but had a slight curl to it, making him look like a damn pirate. A tattoo snaked around his neck, diving into the front of his shirt, and his arm muscles seemed to swell as I tentatively watched the swirl of tattoos almost move across his forearm. He was covered in what looked like lyrics on his right arm, and on his left, he had a few birds, more music notes, and a cross, everything was linked together. It should have looked stupid. But instead of looking stupid — like he was some sort of mismatched first grader — it looked sexy. Damn, damn, damn. I didn’t swear often, but Gabe made me want to live up to my name. Swear like a sailor? Um yeah, it was happening.

  “So…” Gabe eyed me up and down.

  I backed up until my legs touched the couch.

  “You gonna just stand there all day staring at me, or are you and Lisa actually going to do homework?”

  “Homework.” An arm looped within mine, and I looked up into Lisa’s amused gaze. “But first, we eat!”

  “Olé!” Wes clapped and smacked Kiersten on the rear, while Lisa kept her arm firmly tucked in mine.

  Gabe continued to stare, as if it was some sort of weird stare off where if I backed off first, I’d be the loser and have to do something really embarrassing, like admit he had a physical effect on my body.

  “Shh,” Lisa said in a low voice. “No sudden movements. He’ll take it as a challenge and start chasing.”

  “Me thinks she wants to be chased.” Gabe licked his lips.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah well me thinks the ink on your body has started seeping into that brain of yours… Tell me, do you enjoy harassing young women in order to get them into bed with you?”

  Gabe tilted his head in thought, then raised an eyebrow as if the thought actually had merit.

  “Come on.” Lisa tugged my arm. “You can help me set the table. I hope you don’t mind that we eat first. It’s my turn to cook and if I punk out, Gabe throws a fit.”

  “Likes his food?” I asked, following her into the kitchen.

  “No.” Lisa pulled out some taco shells. “He’s just really OCD about the dinner schedule.”

  “Odd,” I admitted.

  “Thank you.” Gabe’s breath was on my neck as he answered and then side-stepped me and started pulling salsa and sour cream out of the fridge, “Being called odd’s almost as great as being called sexy.”

  “How do you figure?” I snorted, trying to ignore what his nearness was doing to my body at that moment. My breath hitched as another wave of desire hit me. Swear, it was like he was physically willing himself on me without even touching me.

  Gabe’s hand paused on the ketchup as he ducked out from behind the fridge door and sneered at me; his mouth curved silkily around his white teeth, sending an involuntary shudder through me. “Odd can mean any number of things.” He closed the fridge.

  There wasn’t anything I could put between us, no counter, no ketchup, nothing.

  “Odd means I stand out. It’s an unintelligent way of saying I’m unique, different, special, one of a kind. Odd means in a lineup of twenty guys, your eyes would still find mine.” He thumped the block of cheese onto the counter. “Every.” Followed it with a jar of chopped tomatoes. “Damn.” And then the salsa. “Time.” Then he turned to face me, a smirk on his face so cocky that I wanted to launch myself at him. “So do I take it as a compliment that you call me odd? Hell yeah, I do. It means tonight when you close your eyes, you won’t be thinking about all those cookie cutter all-American guys with clean skin and baby blue eyes. But you will be thinking of me.” His grin turned predatory. “All me. And that—” He took two more steps toward me. I couldn’t back up. It was impossible to move. “—makes me happier than you’ll ever know.”

  My breathing was ragged. I was an idiot. Plain and simple. I was allowing the bad boy with no future to play with my feelings, but it was unintentional. Everything about my reaction to him was uncontrollable. I couldn’t help but feel drawn, I couldn’t help but feel irritated, and I couldn’t help but want him to touch me one more time, even though it pissed me off as much as it turned me on.

  “Move,” he whispered.

  “Huh?” I shook the cobwebs of lust from my head.

  He tapped my shoulder and gently pushed me to the side. “I gotta set the table. I wasn’t trying to be rude. Oh, and close your mouth. Gaping makes you look desperate.”

  I stepped out of the way, basically clattering my body against the oven hard enough to cause a permanent bruise on my hip.

  “Don’t mind him,” Lisa said from behind me. “One day, he’ll get his.”

  “Don’t worry.” Gabe poked his head around the corner and winked. “I already got mine.” He disappeared then came back again just as I opened my mouth to speak. “Oh, and by the way, it was awesome.”

  “Pig,” Lisa muttered.

  “Aw, cousin.” Gabe blew a kiss and this time disappeared for good.

  I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Lisa tapped me on the shoulder, making me almost choke to death.

  “Sorry about him. Sometimes I wonder how we’re related.” Her blue eyes twinkled briefly before she shrugged and returned to the cupboard to pull out plates. “Grab the salsa and we can put the tacos on the table. Homework second, food first.” For some reason I felt the need to it — maybe it was because of Gabe, or maybe it was because of me. Yeah, on second thought, it was me, because he made me feel out of control.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stupid taco Tuesday and all it represented. I’d rather drive down to Mexico, buy some drugs, and risk the chance of getting caught on the Tijuana border by drug sniffing dogs than actually sit through an entire meal while everyone pretended life was perfect. —Gabe H.

  Gabe

  “You staying for dinner?” I took a swig of water and sat at the table. Wes sat opposite and chuckled, reaching for his own water and giving me that look that guys gave one another when they were enjoying the other’s misery way too much.

  “Thought I would.” Wes’s grin widened. “You know since things got so interesting.”

  “You should go.”

  “I think I’d rather stay and watch Taco Tuesday drama.”

  “I second that.” Kiersten took a seat and slapped me on the back, “Olé?”

  “Um, no, and please remove your hand.” I gl
ared.

  She tilted her head. Ah, the pity look. Fantastic. Her hand moved from my shoulder down to my arm as she squeezed. Great! Effing wonderful. I’d just been given the supportive friend squeeze on top of everything else. Fantastic.

  I wasn’t big on touch. I mean, I talked a big game, and sure I loved screwing around, but people actually touching me just to touch? Not a huge fan. It reminded me too much of them — the people at the home--of their touches, of their sad faces every damn day that week.

  I freaking hated it when people felt sorry for me, or what was even worse, when I felt guilty for being thankful that I was actually in that position, thankful that the person they wanted most to live… was actually dying.

  “Which one do you think she would like, Park?” Her mother touched my arm briefly before putting her hand back onto her lips as they trembled.

  “Um,” my voice croaked. I could barely keep my eyes open anymore. I’d cried so damn much that they stopped producing tears. Instead they burned like hell until I closed them.

  The only problem with closing them?

  I saw her.

  I saw the damn scarf.

  And I saw all the blood.

  “That one,” I whispered hoarsely. “She always liked pink.”

  Mrs. Unifelt smiled sadly. “Maybe we won’t have to use it.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I mean, what do you say to that? I hope your daughter doesn’t make it? I hope she dies in surgery because I really can’t live in world where I’m reminded of her every day but I never actually get to be with her again?

  “Pink it is.” The funeral director put a large check through the box on her sheet and gave me the same smile she’d been giving me for the past hour.

  I wasn’t sure whether I was too numb to react or just too pissed. A freaking check box? Was that all her life had been worth? A recycled piece of paper with tiny boxes to fill in?

  The tears burned at the back of my throat.

  “…of course she may make it through surgery. We always have hope. After all, the doctors are confident they can stop the hemorrhaging in her brain, though they’re certain she won’t ever be our little princess again.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. The dam broke and tears flooded my eyes and spilled over as I stared at the pink casket. What the hell kind of torture was this? Pick out your girlfriend’s casket? The same way I go and pick out a tie for a movie premiere?

  The entire business made me sick.

  From the dim lighting in the funeral home—

  —To the idea that they made thousands of dollars off of something that wasn’t going to make me or anyone else feel better. She was going to die. And if she lived… Damn. If she lived, I’d wish she hadn’t.

  And that made me the worst type of human being.

  Because anyone should want to live when faced with death. Any sane person would choose life. But me? If I was in her shoes? I would choose death. As far as I was concerned, the love of my life had already died, all I was waiting for was her physical body to follow suit. Her mind — everything that had made her who she was — was gone.

  Mrs. Unifelt reached for my arm again, this time gripping it like a lifeline.

  “And have you decided who will be doing the eulogy?”

  All eyes turned to me. A weight descended on my shoulders as I hung my head and gave a slight nod. “I am.”

  “If it comes to that,” Mrs. Unifelt added.

  “Of course,” the funeral director said quickly. “If it comes to that.”

  “Where’d you go, Gabe?” Kiersten snapped her fingers in front of me.

  Everyone was seated at the table staring at me like I’d just grown a third eye and had demanded they call me Kanye.

  “Uh…” I scratched the back of my head and let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, long night last night.”

  “Must have been,” Wes muttered as his eyes flickered from Saylor back to me. “All things considering.”

  Choosing to ignore his slight to my inability to sleep with any female since his operation, I glared and started piling my plate high with tacos.

  “So…” Kiersten stole the taco shell from my plate and began making her own.

  Irritated, I shot her a narrow-eyed glare and pretended not to be interested in her girly talk.

  “Tell me about this project you guys have to do?” She finished.

  “Yes, tell us. We wait with bated breath,” I said dryly, annoyed that I had to sit through dinner with a hot stranger who would rather see me choke to death than make it through the next ten minutes.

  Someone kicked me under the table. I winced but otherwise said nothing.

  “Well…” Saylor reached for a taco shell.

  I swiped it away from her before she could grab it, pretending not to see her. So now I had like three naked taco shells on my plate all because I had the manners of a fifth grader and wanted to stick my tongue out at her — or maybe it was down her throat? I didn’t say I wasn’t confused about her.

  “We have to do this Third Semester Seminar project about something that’s important to us. Since Lisa didn’t really know what to focus on—”

  “—and since the most important thing to Lisa is the number of shoes she has in her closet,” I sang.

  “Thanks, Gabe.”

  I saluted her and piled some cheese onto my taco, hating that I was being put through the torture of watching Saylor nibble on a damn chip like a bunny who couldn’t decide if it liked its food.

  “Anyways…” Saylor stuffed the chip into her mouth. Thank God. Then took another. Of course. “I decided that we could work on my idea together. The professor had already put a few teams together, and we were the last two left.”

  “Bummer, and I thought I was important,” Lisa joked.

  Saylor smiled, and I had to look away. If only she had lipstick on her teeth, or a damn tortilla chip stuck somewhere. Instead, it was blinding and way too happy for my taste. Playing the happy one was my job, but I didn’t have to enjoy it. Happy just seemed easy for her, so basically, she reminded me of a female version of Wes. Great, now there were two of them in the world, and both in my life indefinitely. I could only handle Wes’s wisdom in small doses; otherwise, I figured I’d strangle him or try to punch him in the face. Don’t get me wrong. I loved him more than a brother, but when a person’s so stuck in their own hole of darkness — it hurts like hell when someone shines a light on them. Your eyes have to adjust, and let’s just say it isn’t a pleasant experience; it’s why people stay there. It’s why a lot of us, and I do mean a lot of us, choose the façade rather than the reality of where we’re living. Hell, I’d been living in my dark hole for so long, I’d set up camp, put up pictures, and ordered cable.

  Light reminded me of her smile, of what I’d taken, of what I’d never deserve again. It reminded me of loss, and I hated being reminded of loss. At least in my darkness I was comfortable. I didn’t have to think about the light because it was such a rarity I sometimes forgot what it even felt like.

  “Stop smiling,” I blurted.

  All heads turned in my direction.

  “What? Me?” Saylor, still smiling, pointed at herself.

  “Yeah, you got a chip stuck in your teeth or something,” I grumbled. “Didn’t want you to be embarrassed in front of strangers.” Holy Hell.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Chip free,” Kiersten announced after a two second stare down at Saylor’s mouth. “So what did you guys choose?”

  Great, so everyone was back to ignoring me. I could handle that. I took a huge bite out of my taco and waited.

  “One of the local group homes. The one down by the Sound.”

  I spit out my taco onto my plate and started choking.

  Lisa’s face went pale, and with shaking hands she reached for her water. “Oh, for some reason I thought you said retirement home this morning?”

  “Oh, I did.” Saylor grinned. “Only because I wasn’t sure if they were going to let us
into this other facility. For some reason the security is kind of crazy there. Anyways, my older brother did an internship there for a year before med school and said it was fantastic.”

  “Why the hell would you choose a group home?” I blurted, voice scratchy after nearly asphyxiating on a taco.

  “Gabe!” Kiersten smacked me in the arm. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

  I shrugged, not sure how long I could take the conversation.

  “If you must know…” Saylor said in a tense voice. “My younger brother has Down syndrome. He had to go to a group home when he was really small because my parents had so much trouble with him. He wouldn’t eat, would scream all the time… that is until we finally learned how to take care of him the way he needed. His ears were really sensitive…” Saylor’s voice died off.

  “And?” I prompted.

  “And none of your business.” There was that damn smile again.

  “Great, so…” Lisa nodded awkwardly. “Guess we’ll be going to the group home this weekend?”

  “I’ll have to call and—”

  “—they have game night Friday nights. Better go Saturday afternoon.” With that I pushed away from the table. My chair toppled to the ground as I made my way out of the dorm room and down the hall. I pressed the elevator button so hard I jammed my finger.

  “You gonna tell her?” Wes’s calm voice said from behind me.

  “Shit!” I hit my hand against the elevator door, praying it would open soon so I could escape. “Tell her what?”

  “About the fact that you basically visit that same group home at least four times a week?”

  Leave it to Wes to stalk me.

  “You have security detail on me or what, man?” I tried to laugh but the laugh got caught in my throat.

  “Something like that,” Wes’s said softly. “You know you could have told me.”

  “Told you?” I croaked. “Just what do you know? I mean, what the hell Wes, what’s left to tell? Seems like you know it all anyway.”

  The elevator dinged. I rushed in and pressed the lobby button.

  “For what it’s worth…” Wes swallowed and looked away. “I’ve known for months.”