Page 1 of Desired By you (Always & Forever #3)

Gabby Fifteen years old

I’ve always been the good girl. The do as she’s told girl.

Never puts a foot wrong girl. I know when to voice my thoughts and when to be quiet, when to smile and when not to, when to be gracious and demure.

To remember my manners and to know my place, and my place was to be a wallflower.

To never cause a fuss, to blend in, and never be a nuisance.

Until one night, something happened that rocked my family’s world, turned it upside down and inside out, all because I forgot my place, and now, we are all paying the price.

The plan was always to move to New York so I could attend Juilliard, my dream, or rather my mother’s dream.

Becoming a prima ballerina was always what I was raised to be.

It was the only time in my life I took center stage in anything; when, just for a moment, all eyes were on me and my talent, and I felt seen.

But now I’m not sure Juilliard is on the cards.

My father suggested it might be best if I do something a little more sensible with my life.

Something that would not only benefit my family but also a potential husband and his career.

Because that was another expectation. I’d marry well, play the dutiful wife, and produce children.

What I wanted didn’t really matter. It was just what was expected from the world I was raised in.

“Gabriella, we’ll drop you off, and Albert will collect you after your meeting and bring you to the new house.” My mother's voice snaps me from my thoughts.

“You’re not going to stay with me?” I ask hesitantly.

My mother turns in the front passenger seat, her eyes hidden by her large Chanel sunglasses. Despite the aircon being on full blast and blowing in her direction, not a hair on her perfectly styled brunette bob moves. My mother will never look anything less than perfect.

“No, darling, we have to meet the removal company. I spoke with Suzanne on the phone. She’s expecting you.”

I nod in acceptance, anxiously chewing on my bottom lip.

“Gabriella, stop that. What have I told you about doing that to your lip?” my mother scolds.

“Sorry,” I mumble, looking down at my lap and intertwining my fingers, needing to distract myself from the nausea brewing in my stomach.

“We’re here,” my dad says with little emotion in his tone.

He’s barely spoken to me, let alone looked at me, since everything happened.

I know he’s disappointed in me. They both are.

My actions could have ruined his career and caused quite the scandal, and even though they say what happened wasn’t completely my fault, their actions suggests otherwise.

So, when they suggested I go to a therapy group, I agreed without protest. Do I want to be here?

No. Do I want to share with strangers what I did?

what I let happen to me? Absolutely not.

But I need to make things up to my parents, learn from my mistakes, and move on.

I want, no, I need them to be proud of me again.

I hesitantly step out of the car, brushing a nervous hand down my light blue summer dress and hooking the strap of my Louis Vuitton purse over my shoulder.

I shut the door of my father’s Range Rover, taking in a deep breath and giving my parents a small wave.

I don’t miss the way my mother waves back, but my father’s gaze remains head on, and it hurts to not have him acknowledge my departure.

I wonder if there will ever be a day where my dad can look me in the eye again.

I turn to face the run down looking building, gripping the strap of my purse so tightly: like it’s the very thing holding me up right now. I head towards the door, heart thumping in my chest.

You can do this, Gabriella. just one foot in front of the other.

I push through the glass door and I’m instantly met by a woman with gray hair, glasses, and a wide, welcoming smile from behind a glass screen.

“Hey there, sweetie, are you here for the TeenHood meet?”

I nod, biting down on my lip anxiously. She gives me a sympathetic smile and steps closer toward the glass panel that separates us.

“It’s the second door on the left. Ask for Suzanne when you get in there. Don’t worry, they’re a nice bunch.”

“Th-thank you,” I manage to get out.

I walk down the narrow hallway, the sound of my Prada sandals tapping on the hardwood floor echoes around me. I note the sign on the brown door, stuck on with Scotch tape that says TeenHood.

Closing my eyes for the briefest of moments, I take in a deep breath before pulling open the door.

Stepping inside, the room falls silent, and all eyes are on me.

I stand frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, as I scan the room and the faces staring back at me.

The room is full of girls, maybe twenty, at a guess.

Most around my age or a little older, all scattered around the room, sitting on a couch, at tables, drinking mugs of something, or playing card games.

I startle when a hand is placed on my shoulder, and I let out a little squeak, completely caught off guard.

“Oh, my goodness, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m Suzanne, you must be Gabriella?”

I take a second to register her words and focus on her. Red hair, black thick-rimmed glasses, clutching a clipboard, and wearing a white t-shirt with a badge that says Suzanne, TeenHood Counselor.

“Uh yeah, yeah, I’m Gabriella,” I say, my mouth feeling dry.

“It’s lovely to meet you. I’ll introduce you to a few of the girls, then once you’ve settled, me and you can have a little chat. Does that sound okay?”

Remembering my manners, I straighten my spine and give her the smile I spent years perfecting. “Sure, that would be great. Thank you so much for having me here today, Suzanne.”

“Follow me.” She gestures, and I do. Walking behind her, I feel myself shrink under the weight of the stares. I follow Suzanne over to what looks like a canteen hatch. The sound of laughter floats through the air and it makes me smile.

‘Girls, Gabriella has arrived. Can you help get her settled?”

“Sure thing,” a female voice yells back.

“They’ll look after you,” Suzanne says reassuringly, giving my shoulder a squeeze before walking off.

I stand there, like a lost lamb, wringing my hands and then pinging the elastic I have on my left wrist, looking round the room, waiting for whoever just replied to appear.

The sound of laughter grows closer and I turn my head to see a blonde and a brunette step through the door from what looks to be a kitchen.

They chat amongst themselves until they both stop in their tracks and eye me up and down.

With them both dressed in black leggings and oversized sweatshirts, I feel so out of place in my designer summer dress my mother insisted I wear.

Determined to try and appear confident when I felt like a shrinking violet, I clear my throat, offering my hand with a smile.

‘Hi, I’m Gabriella. It’s lovely to meet you,” I say, my voice a little shaky.

They take it in turns to shake my hand, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Hey, I’m Ali. This is Ria,” the blonde with the most stunning blue eyes I have ever seen says.

“Hey,” Ria says with a big smile. She’s just as beautiful as Ali, and I suddenly feel so inadequate standing in front of them. At a guess, I’d say they were a few years older than me.

“So, if you are anything like us, you might be thinking this place sucks. You don’t wanna be here, and it’s a load of shit,” Ali starts.

“Ali, language. We’ve just met her,” Ria scolds.

“You good with cuss words, Little G?”

Little G?

A weird little zap of excitement at her giving me a nickname hits me.

I giggle. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good. So, as I was saying, you may think this is all bullshit—that’s how I felt when I came here and so did Ria but, this place is epic. Suzanne is the best and even though we are eighteen and nineteen now, we still come because, well, it’s a place where we aren’t judged and can just be us.”

Sounding exactly what I need, I sigh in relief, my shoulders relaxing.

“It’s great here. I love it here more than home.” Ria smiles. I smile back, already feeling at ease around them.

“Just a heads up. The only girl you need to watch out for is Nancy over there. She likes to think she’s better than all of us, and FYI, she’ll swipe those Prada’s straight off your feet, so keep your feet rooted to the floor at all times.

” Ali points over to a blonde in the corner who has her head buried in a magazine.

Ria rolls her eyes. “She’s not that bad.”

Ali furrows her brows. “Not that bad? Remember when Hannah got that new jacket, and it mysteriously went missing?” she says making air quotes with her fingers. “Then a week later Nancy happened to have got one for her birthday. Yeah, my ass she did.”

I snort a very un-lady-like laugh. God, I love them already.

“Noted,” I say.

“So, where are you from?” Ria asks, gesturing for me to follow her. We head over to a large sectional couch and sit down. They both relax on the couch, tucking their legs under their butts. I, on the other hand sit, ramrod straight on the end, legs together, still clutching the strap of my purse.

“Ugh, we just moved to New York,” is all I say.

“What made you move?” Ali asks.

An awkward silence falls between us as I lower my head, searching my mind for something to say. Do I just blurt out and tell them? I go to speak, but Ali beats me to it.

“You know what? That was a dumb question to ask, and you don’t have to answer.

There’s a mutual understanding here. We all know to an extent why we are here.

Just know that when you are ready to talk about it, we are here to listen, okay?

Whatever it is, you can tell us. We won’t judge. We all have a story here.”

I nod, appreciating her kindness and understanding as a feeling of relief washes over me. I’ve never had a safe space to talk about how I really feel. I’ve always said what I thought my parents wanted to hear. My lip trembles at the thought, and I try to stop it, biting down so hard I taste copper.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“You look like you need a hug. Can I hug you?” Ria asks, already crawling across the large corner couch to sit beside me before I can answer.

She wraps her arms around me, and her sweet vanilla scent surrounds me. I expect to clam up, to feel on edge and uncomfortable, but I don’t. I’ve never felt so relaxed and comfortable around people I’ve just met. There’s just something about these girls.

I lean into her hug, not realizing how badly I need this. My parents aren’t affectionate people. Sure, I know they love me, but they are not the type of parents to show love in the form of hugs or physical touch.

Tears roll down my cheeks and I quickly swipe them away. Feeling so vulnerable in this moment, but strangely, feeling safe to be.

“Okay, okay, I’m going to need in on the hug,” Ali announces, getting up from her spot on the couch and sitting the other side of me, wrapping her arms around me.

We sit like that for what feels like hours. They let me cry my silent tears and just sit with me. No words needed, no questions asked.

Wiping my eyes, I exhale a long breath.

“Wow, what a great first impression, huh?” I laugh nervously.

“You’re fine, babe. We would never judge you. We’ve been where you are. Coming here is scary. It’s the unknown. But trust me, we’ve got you, okay? Stick with us, Gabs, and you’ll be fine,” Ali says, brushing my tears away with the pad of her thumb.

Even though I’ve only just met these girls, and I’ve not shared a word of my story, I’ve never felt more accepted, more supported, or more seen than I do right now.

Like maybe I am enough. I have a feeling with them by my side I may be able to navigate my way through this nightmare I’m currently living in.