Page 20 of Forever & Always You

As predicted, there are enough leftovers to feed half an army.

We give it our best shot, but I admit defeat when the sight of the egg rolls starts making me break out into a sweat rather than salivate with craving.

We clear away the food and the dishes, then settle back in front of the TV to watch the next Marvel movie on my list, Avengers: Endgame.

I didn’t admit it to Austin, but my weekends are so often very boring.

If I’m not working the bar, I’m alone in my apartment.

Sometimes I go an entire day without saying a single word to anyone, so I speak out loud to myself just to ensure I haven’t lost my voice.

There is nothing for me in Durham, but I know if I leave, I’ll never return to Duke to finish my degree.

I’m clinging to whatever strings are left connecting me to the life I was supposed to have, but I’m hurtling toward a crossroad at full speed and I know sooner rather than later I will need to make some decisions about my future.

This exact moment in time, however, I’m just relieved not to be on my own for once.

I didn’t realize how pathetic my life has become until I came home and had a good dose of hard truths.

My father would be disappointed, my mother is embarrassed.

Austin is the only one giving me a chance at redeeming myself, and I really need someone else to hold out some hope for me, because I’ve lost all of mine.

We share the blanket during the movie. We don’t touch, not really, but Austin’s still close enough to interfere with the natural rhythm of my heart.

It’s almost a relief when the movie finally ends and he gets up to stretch, the hem of his T-shirt lifting to reveal the waistband of his boxers under his jeans.

That’s when I question how unstable I really am, because I instantly want him to do it again. And again, and again, and again.

“You’re not one of those night owls who stays up till three, are you?

” Austin asks, shutting off the TV. “Because I’m a Monday-to-Friday corporate man, so I’m very particular about maintaining a solid sleep schedule.

If you want to stay up late, you’re more than welcome to, but I won’t be joining you. ”

“You’re so mature,” I muse, unfurling the blanket from around my body. Maybe the fact that I have yet to graduate is why I seem permanently stuck in my youthful college mindset. And with my youthful college mindset comes an erratic sleep schedule. “But don’t worry, I also love early nights,” I lie.

Austin turns down the house for the night, locking doors, adjusting the thermostat, switching off lights, and then follows me up the stairs.

Tension brews in the new silence as the impending goodnights dangle over us.

Even though I’ve spent the past two days with Austin, the idea of spending the night at his place seems a step too far, too fast. What if this is a ploy to murder me in my sleep?

Lure me in with fake niceties, keeping his rage at bay, only to smother me with a pillow the second I close my eyes?

“You aren’t going to murder me during the night, are you?” I ask.

“Considered it,” Austin says. He pauses outside the door to the guest room, turning to face me. “No, Gabby, I won’t murder you during the night. And no one else will, either. Alarm is all set.”

“Okay.” I nervously shift my weight back and forth from one foot to the other, my gaze darting everywhere but Austin. “So .?.?. Goodnight, then?”

“Goodnight, loser,” he says, pushing open the door to the guest room.

“Goodnight, loser,” I repeat.

“We really should think of a parting phrase that’s better than that.”

“Goodnight .?.?.” I tap my finger against my lips as I think, then in one spluttered string of words, suggest, “ Austin-please-forgive-me? ”

Every time he laughs, I want to think of a thousand more ways to make that sound come from him. “Goodnight, maybe-one-day .”

“I’ll take that,” I say, then slip past him into the guest room I’ve so kindly been given to stay in this weekend.

He clicks the door shut for me and it takes four and three quarters of a second for me to realize I wasn’t ready to say goodnight yet.

For as much as being around Austin reminds me of the mistakes I’ve made in the past and a version of myself I like to think I’ve left behind, being around him also makes me feel .

.?. optimistic. For the first time since my father passed, it feels almost like things are finally looking up.

I want to chase that feeling, to sink into it.

Chewing my lip, I rummage through the shopping bags I dumped on the bed earlier in search of the silk PJs I picked out at the mall and grab my wash bag from my suitcase.

In the bathroom, I get changed and sit on the toilet lid, knees bouncing with nervous energy, as I cleanse my face and brush my teeth.

I work a comb through my curls, then crawl into the bed that I’m pretty sure has never been slept in.

As predicted, I stare at the ceiling in the dark, wide awake.

And I last all of five minutes.

Five minutes, and I’m climbing back out of bed and creeping over to the door.

It’s been fifteen minutes since we said goodnight in the hall, so it’s pretty much fifty-fifty whether or not Austin falls asleep that quick. I’m willing to risk it.

As I work my way down the hall, my heart thrashes erratically in my chest and by the time I reach Austin’s door, my breaths are shallow.

I have no idea why the urge to see him is so strong that I’m about to barge into his room, but I can’t suppress it no matter how hard I try.

Something is pulling me to him, that magnetic force again.

Gently, I knock my knuckles against the door as I crack it open an inch. “Austin?”

His voice finds its way back to me in the dark. “Gabby?”

The nerves skyrocket. I push open the door fully now and step into the room, my eyes adjusting to the darkness just as Austin flicks on the light on the side table.

A warm glow casts itself over the room and Austin sits up in bed.

I didn’t come into his bedroom earlier when I was getting the grand tour of the house, but I’m not all that surprised to find it’s near identical to the guest room, except maybe his bed is a California king.

As I stare back at him, I twist my hands together in front of me.

“I lied,” I say. “I am one of those night owls who stays up till three.”

“Of course you are,” Austin says, his knowing smile making it clear he knew I was lying all along. He runs his hand down the back of his neck, his hair tousled from trying to sleep. “What would you like me to do about that, Gabby?”

The suggestive tone woven through his question sends me all the way to hell and the inviting shine in his blue eyes drags me all the way back. Coming to his room was a terrible idea, because now I can’t breathe at all.

“Talk to me.”

Austin pushes back his sheets, sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes fastened on mine. He’s only wearing a pair of black boxers that fits perfectly around his hips. “Talk to you about what?”

“About the way you used to feel,” I whisper.

Time stands still. I’m frozen to the spot by the door as Austin doesn’t so much as flinch, his gaze remaining perfectly steady. The bedside light casts a shadow over his face, making his features indistinguishable.

He stands up from the bed, and I don’t even attempt to hide the way my eyes rake up and down his body.

Austin’s built like a track athlete—slim but toned, with legs that are defined with more muscles than I even knew existed.

The hair on his chest is trimmed short and I follow the trail of fine hair down his stomach all the way to the waistband of his boxers. I swallow hard.

“At eight years old, I wanted to be your friend,” Austin says, low voice breaking through the silence as he takes several cautious steps toward me until there’s no space left between us at all.

“At ten, I realized your laugh made me happy.”

He nudges his body into mine, pushing me back against the wall.

“At twelve, I wanted to kiss you.”

Both his hands find mine and he threads our fingers together.

“At fourteen, I was in love with you.”

He presses our joined hands against the wall either side of my head, trapping me in place.

“At sixteen, I wanted to feel you.”

He draws in close, his breath hot against the corner of my mouth.

“At eighteen, I hated you.”

“And at twenty-four?” I whisper.

Austin’s eyes trail over my lips before fixing me with a look so threateningly gorgeous, the entire world stands still. “All of the above, all at once.”

Hungrily, his mouth captures mine and our hands tighten together as he presses them harder into the wall.

I push my body into his chest, desperate to bring us even closer, only now realizing this is exactly what my mind has been crying out for all day.

I force the kiss deeper before teasingly breaking it to take his lower lip between my teeth.

Austin groans, releasing his firm grip on my hands so he can slide his own into my hair instead.

The kiss is fast and chaotic and almost too perfect.

I take his jaw in my hands and with all of my strength, guide him backward.

He sinks down on the end of the bed, pulling me down with him without ever tearing his lips from mine.

I settle onto his lap, straddling his hips.

A tantalizing chill runs down my spine as Austin’s hands travel down my back to my waist, toying with the hem of the silk top of my PJs.

“Can I touch you?” he murmurs against my mouth. “Fuck, please let me touch you, Gabby.”