Page 47 of Gabriel
He waves to my seat in a silent request. With a sigh, I sit back down and press my hands to my knees before giving him an expectant look.
His dark brown eyes soften, a sad smile curling the edges of his mouth. I look away. I don’t like the way he looks at me. It’s like he sees right through me. Into my soul. It’s not creepy or uncomfortable, per se. He’s not checking me out. But it's intimate in a way that saysI see you.And I’m not sure I want anyone to really see me these days.
“Allie is one of my favorite people,” he says. “She’s kind and has this energy about her. There’s something that draws people to her. I tell her it’s her hobo mojo.”
“Hobo mojo?”
His smile widens. “Yeah. She’s one of those chicks that doesn’t try to impress anyone. She’s comfortable in her own skin. Sweatpants with one of those messy bun things on her head.” He smirks. “She’ll kick it with me and the guys, out eat us in pizza, and kick our asses in Call of Duty. She rubs that shit in, too.” He shrugs. “She’s easy to be around. There’s never any pressure.”
“She sounds great.”
“She is.” Julio licks his lips. “Thing is, senior year after she moved to Sun Valley, she was assaulted.”
My head jerks toward him, and his smile dims.
“She was raped at a football game.” The air grows heavy around us. “After that night, she wasn’t the same carefree girl she used to be.”
I swallow hard. “No. I imagine she wouldn’t be.”
“She’s better now, though. She got help. Worked through her trauma.”
“That's good.” My chest tightens and I force myself to say, “I’m glad it all worked out for her.”
He eyes me intently, seeing more than he should.
“The thing is, when it was fresh, before she got help, she’d have these panic attacks. She had a hard time being around guys. Even the ones she knew.” He taps two fingers against his temple. “In here, she knew I was her friend. But here,” he moves his hand to his chest, “here, I was a man. Someone bigger. Stronger. Someone who could hurt her if I wanted to.”
My breath seizes in my lungs.
“Is that what happened earlier?” he asks, his voice soft, like he doesn’t want to scare me away. “Have you been … hurt?”
I blink back my tears, reigning in my emotions the best I can. “I’m sorry your friend was hurt. Something like that,” I shake my head, shoving down the emotions trapped in my throat. “Nobody should ever have to go through what she did.” I swipe at my face before masking the movement by running my hands through my hair.
“I get that you don’t know me. In your shoes, I don’t think I’d open up to me either. But I think you could use a friend. And it might sound conceited, but I have some pretty great ones.”
“Are you offering them on loan or something?”
He chuckles. “I guess I am.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. “Do you have a pen?” he asks.
I unzip the front pouch on my bag and pull one out before tossing it to him. Bending at the waist, he uses his knee as a writing surface and scribbles something out over the page.Without standing, he holds his arm out as far as he can go and holds the pen and paper out for me. Hesitating for only a moment, I grab the offered items and take an immediate step back.
Unfolding the paper, I look at the name and phone number scrawled in neat writing.
Alejandra Ramirez 509-891-0004
“I’ll let her know you might reach out,” he offers. “No pressure. But I think she’d be someone who could help you.”
“I don’t?—”
He raises a hand to stop me. “I don’t need any sort of explanation. Your business is your own. I’m not here to judge. But if I’m right—and even if I’m not— but if I am, and you need someone to talk to who’s been through a lot of shit and is good at listening, someone who might relate.” He nods at the paper in my hand. “Give her a call. Allie’s good people.”
He rises to his feet and almost as an afterthought says, “Gabe’s good people, too. I don’t know what’s between you two. The fucker is supposed to be focusing onfútbol, but I’ll let it slide since you seem like a cool chick.” He winks at me and I roll my eyes. “He cares, though,” he says, expression suddenly solemn. “Gabe doesn’t care about many people. He has his own wounds he’s dealing with. So if you can, take it easy on the guy, will you?”
“Sure.” I don’t tell him I know about Gabe’s brother. Or add that Gabe is the one who inserted himself into my life. I get the feeling he’d ask me to be careful with Gabe anyway.
“That’s all I can ask for.” He looks from me to the gate that leads to the parking lot. “I’d offer to walk you, but I’ll save myself the rejection. Do you want me to head out first or would you like a head start?”
“You go ahead,” I tell him, not wanting him, or any other guy for that matter, at my back.
