Page 9 of Desired By you (Always & Forever #3)

Chapter Seven

Gabriella

Regrets. I have many of them, and last night is up there with them.

I got myself in a state and vomited in front of Brad.

Lord, just take me now. It’s all over for me.

I can’t look him in the eye today. I only drink around people I feel safe with, and I feel safe with him.

Far safer than I probably should. I shouldn’t have put that on him.

I’m a grown ass woman, and yet I drink like a fifteen-year-old at prom.

I stare back at my pale complexion and my messed-up ponytail in the bathroom mirror and rub a hand down my face, wiping last night’s mascara away with my fingertips.

I splash cold water on my face and brush my teeth twice, the stale taste of alcohol and vomit still very much in my mouth, and I decide a trip to the gym will sort me out.

Needing to wash the regret away, I hop in the shower and scrub myself clean.

Does showering before the gym make sense?

Not really. But I need to feel clean. Fitness is my life.

Dancing, running, or Pilates have been my escape.

For those minutes, I am free. I don’t hear or feel anything other than the burn in my body.

It’s the only time my mind feels empty. I just let myself be and get lost in it.

I exit the shower, drying myself off with the softest cotton towel I have ever used.

I leave the bathroom and I tiptoe past Ali’s bedroom, careful not to wake her and Kate, but I hear my name.

“Gabs… are you alive?” Ali’s voice echoes. I chuckle to myself and turn to enter her bedroom. Ali is sat up in bed, hair all over the place, trying to focus her gaze on me through one squinted eye. Kate lies beside her, face down, making a noise that sounds like a wounded animal.

“I’m alive… are you two?” I giggle, pointing between them.

“I’m okay. I think Kate might need an IV.” Ali yawns.

Kate rolls onto her back, covering her face with her hands while she groans. “Uggghhh, everything hurts. Please tell me that vomiting in a trash can in front of Brad was a horrible dream.”

“No can-do, honey,” Ali says. “You also told him you had a weak gag reflex.”

“Oh god.” Kate groans in despair, covering her head with a pillow.

“Where’s Ria and Harley?” I ask, clutching my towel.

“The guy’s suite, rattling headboards, no doubt,” Ali says with a sour expression on her face.

“Who’s Harley with?” I ask hesitantly. My stomach forms a little knot at the idea of Harley hooking up with Brad. I don’t have time to question why that would bother me, so I silently plead that someone responds quickly to cure my worrying mind.

“I reckon Mason. They were very cozy,” Ali says, wiggling her eyebrows.

The door to our suite opens, and steps echo through to the bedroom.

“Ria, Harley, is that you?” I call. A flash of auburn hair followed by a rosy-cheeked Harley who peaks through the doorway, and Ali whistles.

“I need a shower,” Harley says shyly and then leaves.

“Yes, girl,” Ali yells. “We’ll have the full debrief later.”

“I’m going to head to the gym. Does anyone want to join me?” I ask.

Ali and Kate both look at me like I’ve grown a second head. “No.” They both say in unison. I let out a little laugh when the sound of more footsteps approach us. I clutch hold of my towel tighter in case it’s one of the guys, but in walks Ria with a wide grin on her face and just fucked hair.

“Good morning.” She smiles, her voice light and airy.

“I slept in the wrong suite last night it sounds like a wild time over there.” Ali huffs.

“It was.” Ria winks and slips into the bed beside Ali, the grin still spread across her beautiful face. Her big blue eyes sparkle with glee, and it makes me happy to see her like this. Ria has been through so much. She deserves this happiness.

“I need a nap.” Ria yawns, snuggling in beside Ali.

“You’ve got two hours, ladies, before we need to be at the pool,” Ali says.

I use that as my warning to get going.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” I say as I rush out of the room before they can keep me talking. I need to burn off this feeling. I feel… off.

Needing to get to the gym to silence my thoughts I quicken my steps to my room. I didn’t have time to unpack my suitcase yesterday, so I rummage through and find my yoga pants and matching crop top.

I hunt for something appropriate to cover me in the gym, but all I find are dresses. I packed in such a rush that I forgot my tee I usually wear.

“Damn it,” I hiss. I never go to the gym in just a crop top. My self-esteem or my mother’s words would never allow it. The only time I do, is in my heels class.

“When you dress like that, Gabriella, you are asking for attention.”

“Don’t wear that. You are giving men the wrong impression.”

“What did you expect when you drink and dress like that?”

Phrases I have heard on repeat since I was a teen echo through my mind, and I close my eyes as if that will make them magically vanish.

I’ve always been told attention is a bad thing, well, attention that comes to you because of how you look.

I had to wear my hair a certain way, my make up a certain way, my clothes a certain way.

Enough to look pretty and put together, but never enough to draw attention.

Just enough to blend in and not take center stage.

That awful swell of anxiety begins in the pit of my stomach, and it makes me want to just stay in my room and do a workout in here.

No, fight this, Gabby. You deserve to be seen.

My feet pound against the treadmill while beads of sweat trickle down my back and chest, alerting me that I have pushed my body to the fullest. This feels good.

This is what I needed; to sweat out the toxins and let my mind rest for just a minute.

Music blasts through my headphones and nothing exist. I was thankful that the hotel gym was empty when I arrived.

I mean, who is working out in Vegas? Probably not many.

I managed to buy a t-shirt from the hotel gift store that says I love Vegas in big letters.

Not my usual style, but it covered up everything I needed it to.

I slow my pace to walking and take a sip of water, welcoming the cold liquid as it soothes my burning throat.

Knowing I need to stretch, or I will ache like a mother trucker later, I make my way over to the mats.

I place my water bottle down and quickly scan the still-empty gym.

The sweat-soaked t-shirt clings to my body, and I need to get rid of it.

I reach the hem of my shirt and pull it up over my head and discard it next to my water bottle.

I capture a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror.

My skin is glowing from my workout and my abs look more defined.

I work hard to have the definition I have, but I can’t ever bring myself to let anyone see it.

I reach above my head, stretching my arms and bending my spine slightly.

I inhale and then fold forward, exhaling as I get into the downward dog position, feeling the stretch in my back and legs.

I repeat the movement, the music still blasting through my wireless headphones.

My hips begin to move to the beat on instinct, and as I bring my hands to the floor, I widen my hips and legs and reach between my legs, pushing the stretch.

I close my eyes, really leaning into the burn pulsing through my body.

I love the feeling of stretching after an intense run.

I bring my body back to a standing position, raising my arms above my head for one final stretch.

Opening my eyes, I let out a startled scream when I see the familiar silhouette of a man standing a few steps behind.

But when I rip off my headphones and spin to face him, my breathing a little ragged, I instantly relax when I take in the glorious sight of his bare, toned, tattooed skin dripping in sweat.

He gives me a small smirk; one so quick I might have missed it had I not been staring at his features.

“Need a hand stretching out, baby girl?”