Page 20 of The Call of Azure (Unexpected Love #3)

We’re silent as we walk side by side on the way to the bakery.

It’s awkward and uncomfortable, and I’m not entirely sure why.

When I stepped away for a couple of minutes to finish drying off and put on pants since walking a few blocks in the robe I use at the center didn’t seem like a good plan, Gabriel was nearly vibrating out of his skin in excitement.

Now he’s antsy and quiet, which doesn’t seem like him at all, even though we barely know one another.

I was so dumbfounded to see him standing in my little cement cave, so amazed and overjoyed that less than a month after the Cupcake incident the universe brought him back into my life for a third time, that for one stupid split second, I forgot that the last time I asked him to have coffee with me, he literally ran away.

I don’t want him to run again. He agreed because we’re going to be discussing our potential collaboration, but I’m not entirely convinced that’s a strong enough motivator to keep him at my side if I do anything else to spook him.

I don’t want things to be awkward between us, but I’m afraid that my nervous rambling would only make things worse, so I walk quietly at his side and try to focus on the sounds of birds singing their songs from the trees and the rumble of tires on asphalt and the quiet murmuring of the conversations of the people who walk beside us.

I try to focus on anything that will stave off my panic.

I have no idea why I invited him to the bakery to talk.

In truth, I have no idea how I managed to effectively put enough words together for him to even agree to chat with me outside of the cave without Emma as a chaperone.

It was a struggle to even shake his hand without melting into a puddle as the memories of his previous touches flooded back through me at the feel of his skin.

It’s not that I’m an under-bridge-dwelling forest troll that doesn’t know how to interact with people in general, but social interactions are hard for me at the best of times.

Managing to sound competent and confident isn’t something I’ll ever manage effortlessly the way Gabriel seems to, and acting like a human around him of all people is even more difficult for some reason.

I don’t know what it is about him that makes me want to spend time with him so badly.

His soul just seems so bright and colorful and irresistible that his very presence seems to illuminate my quiet grey world.

I’m absolutely ecstatic over the idea of a performance collaboration with him.

His idea really does sound cool, and if I spend time with him professionally, maybe I’ll get to know him a bit on a personal level as well.

I don’t expect him to magically fall in love with me or anything.

There’s no way someone like him could ever fall in love with someone as boring and broken as me.

Still…the fact we’ve managed to exchange names this time feels like progress, and I’m secretly hopeful that since the universe dropped him in my lap for a third time, it might just let me keep him for more than a stolen minute or two.

Even though I’m desperate to listen to him talk, to watch him laugh, to gratefully accept any time he’s willing to spend with me…

asking him to join me at the bakery probably wasn’t the best choice.

The bakery is one of my safe spaces. It’s quiet and calm and routine, and the idea of Gabriel being there somehow feels unprecedented and life-changing.

It feels like something that can never be undone.

Like once he’s stepped into my space and left his mark, I’ll never be able to imagine the place without him in it.

I’ll never be able to hide myself away from the world behind dough and stacks of plates and quiet jazz music in quite the same way ever again.

I’m not sure I’m ready for my entire world to change, but Gabriel coming to my bakery feels like standing on the shore as the waves draw near enough to take hold and drag me out to sea until I’m forever lost in its depths.

I’m so caught up in trying not to hyperventilate that when I open the door for Gabriel with a strained half smile, I don’t step far enough to the side, and as he slides past me, he’s close enough that his shoulder brushes against my chest. I can only hope he doesn’t notice the way such a simple touch makes me shiver.

If we’re going to consider working together, I have to find a way to behave like a professional, or at least like a relatively normal person.

To do that, in this moment at least, I need a minute to breathe and reset, so I direct him to a small table in the back corner as far away from the counter as possible before grabbing a couple of coffees and cupcakes.

When I set them in front of him and settle into the opposite chair, he laughs loudly enough to draw the attention of the patrons at the table closest to us.

His laugh is gorgeous. He’s gorgeous. I don’t mean in a physically attractive way, although he’s that as well, but in a subtle, energetic way that makes him feel like the embodiment of life itself.

His laugh settles me as it rolls across my skin like the tide over grey sand, and suddenly, I can’t remember why I was nervous to have him in my space.

It feels like he’s always been here. Like he belongs.

“Cupcakes?”

He raises an eyebrow, and I can’t help but grin in relief at the way something so simple seems to have broken the ice enough to bring back the sassy man I’ve previously met.

“What else?” I shrug and slide the plate a bit further in his direction.

He manages to effortlessly eat all three as he talks about his plan.

The moans and whimpers of delight and enjoyment and the way he licks crumbs from his fingertips and stray frosting from his upper lip do not make it easy for me to pay attention, and I’m thankful that my lap is hidden under the table.

He describes the way he hopes to set up his silks and how he believes he can come up with choreography that I can mirror in the water.

With every new element, every new thought he explains, he becomes more and more animated.

His elegant hands, once again adorned with a piles of rings, gesture as though guiding my gaze across a canvas filled with bold strokes and bright pops of color.

His eyes shift from playful to confident to almost teasing and then back again so quickly that it’s hard to keep up, and I savor every moment of it because I know it won’t last. Even if we end up working together and I get to keep him in my life for a few weeks or months, it won’t be forever.

The way the silver and gold catch the light as he gestures, the way his eyes hold mine without hesitation or wariness, the way he focuses on our conversation and my reactions like nothing else in the world matters to him in this moment - every little thing about him captivates me.

He seems so sure of himself, of his skill and his words and his body.

He feels effortless, as if people and water and air and atoms and motes of dust all exist to simply swirl around him like an audience watching the creation of the universe unfold.

Even if we didn’t have a small piece of shared history, I can’t envision myself saying no to him.

I can’t imagine no is something he hears very often from anyone.

I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to follow him around and hang on his every word and delight in his every glance.

He feels like finding water in the desert, and no part of me is prepared to walk away from that if there’s the smallest chance I can keep it for even a single heartbeat.

“I think if I spend a bit of time watching you just like…swim around…to see what your movements look like, and how often you need to surface for air, I can choreograph my own performance in a way that will work for the most part. Then we can work together to build one that matches for you.” He doesn’t even seem to breathe as he describes his vision, and though I’ve never seen anything like it, the image he paints is clear and breathtaking.

“We can make any changes we need to once we start rehearsing together at the center, of course, but I think we can likely have the bulk of it nailed down individually first, and we’ll only have to find the time for a few practice sessions together as we get close to the actual performance dates.”

I smile and sip my coffee and force my gaze not to linger on his lips as I nod my understanding and agreement.

I agree to everything he says. I agree to meet him at the aquatic center on Monday afternoon so he can watch me perform, and then at the bakery again on Wednesday morning so we can come up with a formal schedule and plan.

I agree to go to his house once he has a routine prepared, since apparently, that’s where his silks are.

Because of course, he’s the type of free-spirited artist who lives somewhere he can keep eighteen-foot-high performance silks in his living space.

There’s no way he’d live anywhere like my sad little beige apartment.

I agree to every single thing he asks of me, happily and without uncertainty.

He’s so confident that we can pull this off and that it will be amazing that I find myself believing him.

Maybe this isn’t the type of partnership I’ve imagined us having during the long, lonely nights when he’s danced at the edges of my dreams over the past year, but it’s something.

It’s more than I ever thought I’d actually get.

A couple of months spent basking in his brilliance are more than someone as pathetic and damaged as me could ever expect to hope for.

By the time he graces me with one last smile and touch in the form of a handshake on his way out, I have a plan.

I’m going to let myself spend one more night dreaming about the way it felt when he touched me at the bar, about the way it might feel to touch him that way in return, and then I’m going to put all of that aside and behave like a professional, and maybe if I’m very lucky, I’ll manage to become his friend.

I jump when Lilith’s hand lands on my shoulder. Even though I’m startled, I don’t actually panic or wonder who it is. Not only is she the only one around here who touches me, she does it often enough that the weight of her hand is familiar.

“Soooo. I think I need to know who le petit fluer was.” Her fingers trail down my forearm as she circles to the seat Gabriel just vacated and slips in with the terrifying gracefulness of a black cat.

“Oh. Um…that was umm…Gabriel.” I mumble around my coffee mug before taking the time to examine its contents closely. Maybe a fly landed in it. Seems important to check. I wouldn’t want to drink a fly.

“Mmm-hmm. And who is Gabriel?” she nearly purrs.

“He’s a new colleague, I guess you could say.

We’re going to be doing a performance together at the aquatic center.

Or…well…we’re thinking about it, I guess?

He wants to, and Emma has given him the okay to start planning with one of us to see if he can pull it off.

It sounds pretty cool, so I said that I’d be willing to do it with him.

” Oh my god, I said I’d be willing to do it with him.

Please don’t let her realize that I said I’d be willing to do it with him.

“Mmmm, that sounds quite…fun.” Her fingertips reach out to land delicately on the back of my hand until I raise my gaze to hers. “I really hope it works out. You could use a bit more time away from the shop. You work too much.”

“You know that I…”

“Tsk…don’t even try to finish that sentence.

I know you think you need to be here, but I know that part of the reason you’re here so much is because it feels safe, and while that’s a wonderful thing, sometimes I worry that you’re never going to find anyone or anywhere that feels safe outside of these walls if you don’t try once in a while.

I know my interaction with him was limited to watching the two of you from across the room, but you looked relaxed, maybe even like you were enjoying yourself, and that’s not a look you have very often. ”

“I don’t…I mean…” How has she managed to see so much? While she knows more about me and my past than anyone else, it’s not like we spend a lot of time discussing our emotional trauma and coping mechanisms or anything.

“All I’m saying is, I’m glad you’re giving this a chance.

If for no other reason than so you can stare at that delectable ass for a while.

I haven’t seen anything like that in quite some time.

” Her grin is so mischievous it’s almost sinful.

“I mean, we’ve never actually talked about your sexuality, and I have no idea if you’d be interested in his ass, but honestly, I don’t know how anyone could possibly not take a moment to admire a work of art like that. ”

“Lilith!” I hiss in an attempt to get her to lower her voice so every customer and employee and neighbor in a three-block radius doesn’t hear us discussing people’s asses in the middle of the café.

Her laugh lingers as she stands and walks back to the kitchen, ruffling my hair like I’m a five-year-old along the way.

I want to be mad at her. I really, really do, but she’s right about all of it.

Something about Gabriel does make me feel safe, even though we’ve talked for a grand total of an hour over the course of our three serendipitous meetings.

I have no idea why. Everything about his boisterous personality should leave me desperately wanting to run in the other direction, but it doesn’t.

Though I’ll never tell her, Lilith is right.

The way I feel when I’m around him is something I haven’t experienced in a very long time.

She’s right about his ass too. It is a work of art.