Page 41 of The Call of Azure (Unexpected Love #3)

Liam

I’m anxious the night before our final show, but it has nothing to do with the performance itself.

The first four were so astonishingly well-received that Emma is thinking about making it a yearly event of some sort.

The tickets for tomorrow evening’s fancy gala sold out weeks ago, and when Gabriel and I left yesterday afternoon, the grounds crew was already hard at work setting up the additional lighting we’ll need to perform at night.

If it lives up to even a fraction of our expectations, it’s going to be a spectacular event.

So no, I’m not anxious about the performance.

I’m anxious because I know things with Gabriel are coming to an end.

I think we’ve gotten to know one another well enough that I might be able to keep him in my life as a friend.

Maybe if I’m really lucky, I’ll be able to convince him to tie me once in a while.

It’s just…that’s not enough. It needs to be, and I know that, but I have fallen for him so hard and so completely that the idea of letting him go feels like letting a piece of my soul walk away.

Even if I manage to keep him as a friend, our interactions will be different moving forward.

We’ll both still work during the day, and he has his normal group of friends that he goes out with every Friday.

He’ll move on to a new performance with a new partner, and there won’t be much time left for me.

It’s very likely that all too soon, our relationship will fade to a handful of texts and coffee once a month.

I’ll end up relegated to simply watching from the sidelines as he glides perkily through life.

I’ll miss watching him soar around on his silks.

I’ll miss the feel of his eyes tracking me swimming around the tank as he studies the way I move and the small wrinkles that appear beside his eyes as his creative brain zips through new choreographic possibilities for me to try out.

I’ll miss his occasional dirty jokes and the way he’s always laughing.

I’ll miss the color and light and joy he brings into my life every single time we talk.

I’ll miss the way he cares for Cupcake like she’s his entire life and the way he actually listens to me when I talk, instead of glazing over and thinking about something else.

I’ll miss the moments we sit quietly at the bakery or in his apartment with coffee and snacks after rehearsals or performances, and the rare, precious stolen seconds when he lets his guard down just a little to share things like his shibari.

In a shocking turn of events, I’ll even miss the way he’s always touching me.

I know that it doesn’t mean anything to him.

He’s just a tactile person, and he behaves the same way whenever I see him interact with someone else.

It means something to me though. Before I met Gabriel, Lilith was the only person I had regular physical contact with, and it took me a long time to get used to that.

I’m more than used to Gabriel’s touch now…

I long for it. For the way his hand settles on my back or forearm whenever he slides past me or walks at my side and the way he presses his shoulder tightly to mine when we’re watching clips of our performances on his phone.

The way it felt to lie in bed beside him the night he was sick is something I’ll carry with me forever.

I hope I get to keep him as a friend, but even if I do, I’ll miss everything about the past few months because even though I know I’m nothing more than a work partner to him, he’s become my entire world.

It’s probably not healthy to pine for a friend like this, but I want him more than I ever thought it was possible to want another person.

I want his laughter and smiles and deep, quiet, secret truths.

I want his touches and his tears. I want to cook dinner with him and to curl up on the couch just to watch TV or spend the afternoon walking Cupcake in the park.

I want to feel his body over mine, holding me close as he presses deep into me, his breath hot against my neck and his lips tracing my jaw.

I want to lose myself in him until the rest of the world falls away.

“Hun?”

Gabriel’s hand an inch from my face startles me out of my thoughts.

Even though we didn’t perform or rehearse today, he asked me to join him for dinner at his place.

It’s the first time we’ve gotten together casually instead of professionally, and I want to believe that it’s more than a simple celebratory meal as our work together comes to an end.

I know that I’m just desperately searching for signs he might want something more from me because I want more from him, not because he actually does.

“Ya? Sorry.”

“Hun, are you okay?” His forehead crinkles in concern.

“Ya, of course I am. I’m sorry. I’m just tired and nervous about tomorrow.”

His eyes narrow in a glare. “Don’t BS me, sweetie. We haven’t known each other for all that long, but I think something else is up with you tonight.”

“It’s just…” I sigh, knowing that while I can’t really deny him anything, I don’t want to say something stupid and drive him away. It doesn’t matter how much I want to beg for more. He doesn’t want me the way I want him.

“It’s nothing.” I force a smile. “I was just stuck in my head for a second, but I don’t want to say anything that might mess with tomorrow.

” Oh my god. Abort. Abort. Why did I say that?

He’s definitely not going to let it go now if he thinks that whatever is wrong might mess with our pièce de résistance tomorrow.

“I swear I’m okay. I probably just need some sleep. ”

“Wait.” He settles further back into his chair, and I instantly hate having more space between us. “Something that might mess with tomorrow? Is this about the show? Oh my god, is it about me?”

“No. Or…yes. It’s not about the show. The show is going to be amazing. It’s sort of about you, I guess, or well, about me?” How did that end up a question? He doesn’t know what I was thinking about. He certainly can’t answer a nonsense question about it! Now I seem both distracted and confused.

“Honey. Look, I’m pretty hard to offend. So, if I did something wrong, I’d really like to know so that we can talk it through.”

I shake my head in frustration. “It’s nothing like that, I swear.

You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just…

” I drop my forehead onto the table, mumbling around the wood because this is not going well at all.

Weeks of hyping myself up to broach the subject, and so far, this isn’t the brave, bold move that I want it to be.

It’s just me sounding desperate and crazy.

“We’ve spent all of this time together the past few months, and sometimes, I guess it just bothers me that we’ve never talked about the fact that we met before the day I saved Cupcake.

” It bothers me that I’m madly in love with you, and you don’t want me.

When I raise my head, wide brown eyes are staring at me in shock.

“I’m just…I’m not like you. I’m not all bubbly and colorful and outgoing.

I know that you probably spend a lot of your weekends like that, and you probably don’t even remember that one of those weekends was with me.

It doesn’t matter, and I know that. Just once in a while, my brain gets stuck thinking about how forgettable I must be if you don’t even remember that night, and I worry that after tomorrow night, you’ll forget about me all over again. ”

“Hey.” His voice is soft as he leans in close to settle his hand on top of mine to stop my uncontrollable rambling.

“I remember the night we met at the jazz club. Of course I remember that night, and of course I remember that it was you. For the record, I don’t do that all that often, not that there’s anything wrong with it if I did.

But babe, even if I did, I’d remember it was you because that was one of the hottest nights I’ve ever had. ”

“It was?” I nearly squeak.

He grins at me, and it feels like sunshine on a cold winter day. “Oh, hell yes, it was. Baby, I never come that fast. That night with you was absolutely spectacular.”

“Then why…why haven’t we talked about it?

” If he remembers it was me. I don’t understand why he hasn’t said anything.

Or why we haven’t done it again if we both thought it was so good.

I mean, I haven’t mentioned it because I’m scared of everything and embarrassed even now while I’m trying to psych myself up enough to ask for another night in his arms.

“I don’t do repeats. Ever. I’m a one-and-done kind of guy these days, and it just felt like saying that when we were going to be working together would seem…

rude, I guess. You never brought it up, so I didn’t want to make things awkward by saying something like ‘Oh, hey there, remember that time we had a quicky at a club? That was super fun, now let’s talk about choreography. ’”

I know I’m the color of a tomato. This might be one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life.

The guy remembers me, he doesn’t do repeats, and he just didn’t think it was something worth discussing, while I’m sitting here fixated on how good things felt between us that night and trying to find a way to beg him to change his mind about one-night stands like I’m somehow special enough to break his rules for.

Clearly, this is one of my better moments.

“Oh. Okay. That makes sense, I guess.”