Page 62 of The Striker
Panic claws at my chest.
Shit. Fuck.
"It's been a long night," I offer weakly, attempting to diffuse the tension that crackles between us like electricity. “I shouldn’t have hit you,” I tell him. “But you were out of line.”
Gabriel doesn't back down. Instead, he looms over me, closing the distance until there's barely an inch separating our faces. The intensity of his gaze makes my heart race, and I struggle to maintain my composure.
"I don’t give a shit,” he says. “I wasn’t insinuating anything, but fuck it. We’ll skip over that for right now. You're not walking home, and you’re going to explain this date," he insists, his voice firm and unwavering.
"Absolutely not.” I counter, desperation creeping into my tone. “I’m leaving. You can get out of my way, or you can drive me yourself. Your pick. But I’m going." Riding on the back of Gabriel's motorcycle isn't my idea of a perfect solution, but it's better than being stuck here with him.
“No,” he snaps, using that one word as a complete sentence. Damn him and his stubbornness.
"You're being unreasonable," I argue, my frustration boiling over.
He barks out a humorless laugh. “You haven’t seen me unreasonable yet.”
Our gazes lock in a staring contest, neither of us willing to blink and give in. I forgot what it was like. Sparing with him like this. Going toe to toe with anyone really.
Seconds pass, turning into minutes, and neither one of us budges.
"What now?" I ask, breaking the silence.
Gabriel’s jaw tightens. “Tell me about your date.”
Pass. That sounds like a terrible idea.
I shake my head vehemently, already dreading this conversation. "It was just one date. There's nothing to tell,” I say, hoping he’ll drop it.
Gabriel's eyes darken with suspicion. "I want to know why you were on a date to begin with. What happened to needing space? What about all that bullshit you fed me about needing to fix whatever the fuck you think is broken inside you on your own?"
Venom drips from each of his words, and I flinch. But despite being faced with his anger, I don’t miss the emotion that flickers over his gaze when he voices the questions.
Hurt.
Guilt churns in the pit of my stomach as I meet his hard gaze. "It was just one date," I repeat, my voice softening because despite the ass he’s being right now, I don’t want to hurt Gabriel. That’s never been my intention. "I wanted to see if I could do it. If I could go out like a normal college girl.” I sigh and tug at one of my braids. “I’m not planning to see Wyatt again. It was justonedate." I offer the explanation almost as a peace offering, hoping to ease the tension between us.
What I do in my free time is none of his business, but it doesn’t cost me anything to give him this.
Gabriel pushes away from the door and paces the length of the living room, his frustration palpable. It’s clear he doesn’t like my answer.
"So tonight was what, a test?" he demands, his tone sharp.
I nod slowly. "Yeah," I admit, the weight of failure heavy on my shoulders. "Adriana and I thought?—"
The sound he makes is mocking. “Of course, this was her idea.”
My brows knit together in confusion, but before I can question him further, he demands, "Why?"
Despite my better judgment, I move closer to him, unable to bear the sight of him hurting like this. "Why what?" I ask softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
I know I should leave it alone. I should take this opportunity to open the door and slip away, but for whatever reason, I can’t.
My body is drawn to Gabriel like a moth to a flame. Sooner or later, I know I’ll get burned, but I move closer to him anyway.
“Why what?” I try again.
"Why him?" His question hangs heavy in the air, unspoken implications lingering just beneath the surface. I hear the question Gabriel doesn’t bother to voice out loud.
