Page 8 of The Striker
I cross my arms over my chest and try to stop shaking.
Gentle fingers under my chin tilt my head up. I nearly flinch away but remind myself this isn’t Austin. It’s Gabe. And Gabriel is safe. He won’t hurt me. Even though when we last spoke, I was the one to hurt him.
His honey-gold eyes bore into mine, his jaw clenched. “Are you okay?”
I open my mouth but can’t find any words. I manage a slight nod. A lie. But denying that I’m all right won’t help either of us right now.
Gabriel’s nostrils flare, a muscle in his cheek feathering. I can see the effort it takes to rein in his anger. He doesn’t like my response. He doesn’t believe me.
His thumb brushes my cheek. A barely there caress before dropping away. My heart plummets, and already I mourn the loss of his touch.
“Come on,” he says roughly. “Let’s get you to class.”
He turns on his heel, shoulders rigid, but keeps his steps short. A way to ensure I’m able to keep up with his longer stride.
I trail after him. My legs are unsteady, and my gut churns with all the words left unsaid between us. Gabriel isn’t supposed to save me. I’m not his responsibility. Not anymore.
I just wish I was strong enough to save myself.
3CECILIA
The day drags on at a snail’s pace. Sitting through my first class of the week with Gabriel is uncomfortable, to say the least. There’s this heavy tension hanging between us, and despite the weeks that have passed, it never seems to abate.
He still sits beside me, just like before—when he bothers to show up to class at least. And I know the classes he’s missed lately are because of me. But even when he’s here, he doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t flash me that crooked smile of his. He doesn’t try to pull me into conversation.
I used to hate that. Hated that he wanted to be friends. That he tried to pull me out of my shell. But this … this is so much worse.
It’s a painful, suffocating silence.
The weight of unspoken words fill the space where casual banter used to flow, and by the time the bell rings signaling the end of class, I’m desperate for a reprieve from it.
Only there isn’t one. Gabriel and I have two classes together today, and I get the feeling that the next one will be even worse.I don’t know how to fix this. And if I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure I want to.
He isn’t supposed to be my friend. He isn’t supposed to be my anything.
Mom used to say,time heals all wounds.
Time hasn’t helped me recover from what Austin did to me, but maybe with enough time, I can heal from this. From losing Gabriel.
The semester will end soon enough and with us no longer seeing each other, there’s no reason for him to be in any more of my classes. He won’t need to insert himself into my life. He won’t drag me to his practices or drop in at my parents’ house unannounced.
We won’t cross paths every day. There’s a good chance we can go an entire semester without even seeing one another.
Maybe then it will hurt less. That’s all I can hope for these days.
After I gather my things, Gabriel walks beside me in silence, keeping pace with my shorter steps. I don’t know why. He isn’t talking to me, so why walk with me to class when he can easily outpace me?
But this has become a routine of sorts.
He shadows me but doesn’t talk to me. He sits by me but never looks at me.
It’s infuriating. Meanwhile, I can’t help but steal glances at the hard line of his jaw, the furrow between his dark brows.
What is he thinking?
Is he angry? He looks it. But whether his anger is directed at me or someone else, I don’t know. He might still be pissed about Austin. Though that was an hour ago. Maybe someone or something else is on his mind right now?
We’ve drifted apart in such a short span of time that I don’t know how to read him anymore.
