Page 22 of Forever & Always You

Austin isn’t there when I wake up.

He’s not in bed, in the shower, or making pancakes in the kitchen like I secretly hoped because I love nothing more than pancakes for breakfast on Sundays.

I stick my head out into the backyard, but he’s not out there either, and when I check out front, his car is still on the drive.

I even knock on his office door, but no reply ever comes.

I won’t deny that for a few seconds before I braved opening my eyes, there was an element of fear.

What if I looked at Austin and immediately felt a shift in our dynamic?

When I found that note we signed as kids in my jewelry box, my one and only goal was to find my best friend and earn his forgiveness, not find my way into his bed.

Things are so easy with Austin, but what if they aren’t anymore?

It worries me that he’s not here. What if last night was a mistake and he’s halfway to Virginia by now just to escape me? It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. He’s left me his house and his car, and I think I could deal with that.

I raid through the kitchen cabinets for some flour, then grab some milk and eggs from the refrigerator.

There’s no way I’m missing out on my pancakes just because Austin has decided to go AWOL.

I turn on the TV for some background noise and get a hot pan going, but just as I’m about to hit my stride, my phone vibrates on the countertop.

My immediate thought is that it’s Austin trying to reach me, but as I grab my phone, I realize we don’t even have each other’s numbers, which is probably something that needs rectified. The text message displayed on my home screen is actually from my property manager.

The plumbing in my apartment is fixed.

And I should celebrate this information, but instead my stomach sinks.

Two days ago, I wanted nothing more than my property manager to get his ass in gear and send a plumber round to fix my ruined pipework, but now .

.?. I don’t want to go back to my apartment.

To Marvel movies on my own, to resounding silence, to reality.

I want to stay here and have Austin take care of me.

As I set my phone back down and pour my pancake mixture into the pan, I chew the inside of my cheek, deep in thought.

Austin was kind enough to let me stay here until my apartment was fixed as a favor.

He would never have asked in the first place if I didn’t need a place to stay, so I know, morally, I should head home to Durham by tonight.

But selfishly, I want to stay here even just for one more day.

Austin doesn’t need to know yet that my apartment has running water again.

I’m a pro at flipping pancakes, yet I still feel insanely smug as I plate up the perfectly fluffy stack.

I search the cabinets again for maple syrup, and there is none.

Who the hell doesn’t have maple syrup as a permanent staple in their cabinets?

I resign myself to chocolate sauce and some strawberries as toppings, and just as I sit down on a bar stool at the center island and take my first bite, the front door swings open.

Austin steps inside the house, bedraggled and sweaty in gym shorts, and I release an “ Ohhhh. ”

He runs on Sunday mornings, duh. He literally told me that last night. Clearly, he was not hightailing it to Virginia, and I laugh at myself for being so worried for absolutely no reason.

Austin’s breathing is labored as he shakes out his wet hair.

He’s also shirtless, his T-shirt tucked over the waistband of his shorts, and his tanned skin is so damp with sweat that I’d be happy to abandon my pancakes and have him take me right here, right now.

He seems surprised to see me eating breakfast in his kitchen, because I don’t quite get a smile out of him.

“Pancakes?” he asks, approaching.

I slide my plate down the center island to show off my expert pancake-making skills. “I can make you some if you’d like? I make a damn good pancake.”

“No, thanks.”

“And you have no maple syrup,” I point out. “Are you okay? Mentally?”

Austin shrugs. “Too sticky.”

Still no smile out of him. He disappears through the house and returns with a small towel, wiping down his face and drying off his hair.

He won’t make eye contact with me, either, and I realize very, very quickly that something is wrong.

The atmosphere between us feels sour, and perhaps I was right after all.

The dynamic has changed, but I will myself to fight through the tension.

“How far did you run?” I ask casually, biting into another forkful of pancake.

“Twelve.”

“Miles?” I repeat in surprise. I can barely run down the block. “ Twelve miles? ”

Austin throws open the refrigerator. “That’s what I just said.”

Yeah, this is a problem. This isn’t the usual morning-after awkwardness. Austin is being exceptionally cold toward me, and I have no idea why. I thought we were past this. After last night, we definitely should be.

“Are we really doing this?” I ask, setting my fork down with a clink and crossing my arms. Austin peers around the refrigerator door with a blank expression, like he has no clue what I’m talking about. “You’re really going to fuck me then ignore me the next morning?”

Austin shuts the refrigerator, a bottle of Gatorade in hand. “I’m not ignoring you, Gabrielle.”

And now he’s calling me by my full name again! I angrily roll my eyes. “Let’s not play this game. What’s the problem, Austin?”

He pulls out the stool on the opposite side of the center island and sits down across from me, finally meeting my eyes. Very flatly, he says, “Last night is clouding my judgment.”

“Okay. Explain,” I demand.

Austin flicks off the cap of the Gatorade and stares down at the bottle in his hand, his jaw visibly clenching as he mulls over his words before he commits to saying them out loud.

“I want to forgive you, but not because you give me the things I only ever dreamed about. I want to forgive you because you earned it, and you don’t earn it by sneaking into my room. ”

“Yeah, fuck you.” I scoot my chair back from the table and grab my plate.

Austin’s eyes widen in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck you for believing I came to your room as some ploy to win you over.”

“Then why did you?”

“ Because I wanted to, ” I hiss through gritted teeth.

I don’t even want these damn pancakes anymore, so I tip them straight into the trash can and throw my plate into the sink.

“You’re right. I didn’t see you as anything more than my best friend when we were kids, but something feels different this time around.

I now appreciate everything you ever did for me, and I’m really impressed by you, because you’re kind of amazing.

I wanted to apologize, and then I wanted my best friend back, and now I think I want even more.

I’m as confused as you are, but trust me when I say that last night wasn’t some sort of strategy. ”

Austin presses his hands to his face and smothers a groan. “Why did you have to screw me over when we were younger, Gabby? What if your love language is fucking me over, huh?”

“Well, it’s not. It’s words of affirmation.”

Austin lifts his head. “Stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Being cute,” he says. “You weaken me so easily.”

“That’s kind of what I’m trying to achieve.” I give him a wry smile and then sigh, releasing the tension from my shoulders.

Things are complex with Austin, and if we are to fix our relationship, then our lines of communication need to be solid. I move around the island and stand in front of him, cupping his jaw in my hand. His skin is warm and flushed.

“Look at me,” I say gently, tilting his jaw up.

His ocean blue eyes settle on mine. “No more cold shoulders. You’re worried about something?

Voice it to me and I will reassure you over and over again that I’m here because I want you in my life in whatever capacity is good with you.

Friends .?.?. Friends with benefits .?.?.

Dog co-parents .?.?.” I smile as Austin’s gaze softens.

“I care about you. There was never a time I didn’t. ”

Austin places his hand over mine on his jaw and nuzzles his face harder into my palm. “I know you’re a good person, Gabrielle,” he murmurs. “You just weren’t to me.”

My heart aches, because there is nothing I can do to change that fact. The only thing I can do now is never make that same mistake again. I lean down and kiss the top of his head.

Against his hair, I mumble, “You sure I can’t make you pancakes?”

“ Fine, ” he huffs. “Go fix me a big stack. Twelve miles’ worth.”

Now this is the Austin I was waiting for. I laugh as I pull back from him. I may have to make myself some more, too. In hindsight, throwing mine in the trash was an overreaction.

“Go shower while I get a batch going. You’re all gross.”

“Hey. It’s eighty degrees outside,” he points out.

“Felt like eighty degrees in your room last night.”

“Felt like a hundred.”

“Felt good.”

“Felt really good.” Austin smolders his eyes at me, his hand playing mindlessly with mine. “Interesting. You blush when I’m mean to you, and you blush when I .?.?.”

“Get. In. The. Shower,” I order, pulling my hand free from his and crossing back to the stove. I get the heat going again, but it pales in comparison to the heat of my cheeks.