Chapter Seven
With classic Gabe bravado that was more for show than anything else, Gabe led Camille to where Rachel was sitting. He’d mastered the art of exuding confidence when he didn’t really feel it when he was a teenager trying to get scouted. No one wanted to waste time on a skinny kid with a self-esteem issues—a kid who nearly gave himself an ulcer worrying about how he was going to hack it in major league baseball… if he even made it there. That was why his mom had been so adamant that he go to college first—which only led to more worry since he still wasn't great at reading English at the time, despite having been in the U.S. since he was twelve.
But she’d been right. Gabe hadn’t been ready to be on his own in the world and make more money than he would’ve known what to do with. He’d needed to grow up more. Get a foundation under him. It had been a gamble, but it had paid off tenfold. Gabe had no doubt that most of his professional success came as a result of his having played collegiate ball, and not because of the skills he’d honed. In school, he’d learned how to actually believe in himself, rather than faking it. And that self-assurance had bled into every aspect of his life—except, of course, his interactions with Rachel Adler.
Rachel’s straight white teeth were gleaming as she smiled at them. Her long brown hair fell over her shoulders and was so shiny it reflected the lights. “Rachel, this is my friend Camille. Camille, Rachel. And this is Kellan,” he tacked on so as not to be blatantly rude. He’d never hoped so much that a guy was gay. Well, there was that one time he’d thought Ben was coming out to him, but that was a misunderstanding. He hoped this wasn’t. The thought of Rachel dating someone else did things to him he didn’t want to focus on.
Everyone exchanged greetings, and Camille and Gabe sat down next to them. There was an awkward silence for a minute, and Gabe racked his brain to try to figure out how to fill.
Rachel turned to Camille, who was beside her. “So, Camille, how do you know Gabe?” Her voice sounded off, like she was trying too hard to make it come off as an innocent question.
Gabe knew it was wishful thinking that she’d been bitten by the same jealousy bug that nipped him.
“We met through a mutual friend,” Camille explained. “How about you?”
Gabe would’ve kissed Camille if it wouldn’t have gotten him punched. He’d already told her all about how he knew Rachel, but Camille was acting like she’d never heard of her. The last thing Gabe needed was for Rachel to think he was obsessed with her or something. Camille was his bro after all.
“We went to college together. I accidentally interviewed him once,” Rachel said with a sly grin in is direction.
“Please. We both know you asking Jace was all just an elaborate ploy to get close to me,” Gabe said.
Rachel looked at Camille and rolled her eyes. “Oh darn, he’s figured me out,” she said dryly.
“What do you do, Kellan?” Gabe asked.
“I just got a job as a copywriter for a marketing firm in New York.”
Gabe smiled. “I have absolutely no idea what that is, but congrats.”
Kellan laughed. “They’re a start-up. I’m not too sure they know what a copywriter is either.”
“You like it so far?” Camille asked.
Kellan shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s a job, so I can’t complain. I was about a week away from selling my ass for cash, so it’s a step in the right direction.”
The girls chuckled, but before he could think better of it, Gabe said, “We know someone who did that! Don’t we, Camille?”
As Camille slowly panned toward him, Gabe realized he maybe shouldn't have blurted that out. “I mean, she pretended she did that. Or lied about it.” Camille’s raised eyebrows let him know he wasn’t making things better.
“That sounds like quite a story,” Rachel said.
“Yes, but it’s one we’re not going to tell, is it Gabriel?” Camille’s voice was friendly—probably for Rachel and Kellan’s benefit because her eyes were like lasers trying to flay the skin off of Gabe.
He made motion over his mouth like he was closing a zipper, which made Camille look exasperated with him.
“Well, I’m glad it didn’t come to that,” Kellan said, effectively redirecting the conversation. “My roommate is a real hard-ass, so if I hadn’t found something soon, she was going to throw me out.” He gave Rachel a smug look, which made her slap him on the arm.
“No, she wasn’t.”
“Wait, you guys are roommates?” Gabe asked a little louder than he’d intended.
“Yeah. We met at a wedding a few years ago, and she’s been obsessed with me since, even though I keep trying to tell her I’m not into her… type,” Kellan explained.
“Yeah, that's not even remotely the case,” Rachel said.
“Please. You asked me to move in with you after we’d known each other for three days.”
“Because you told me you were going to have to become a rent-boy if you couldn’t find an affordable place to live.”
“Stop acting like you saving me from a life of prostitution was a selfless act. You just didn’t want to share me with the rest of Manhattan.”
“Oh my God,” Camille interjected. She turned to Gabe. “They’re just like us.”
“Like looking in a mirror,” Gabe replied, his tone serious. “Except… who’s the
almost-rent-boy in our situation.”
“Definitely me,” Camille said.
“That makes sense,” Gabe said with a nod.
Camille did that slow panning thing again. “And why exactly does that make sense to you?”
Gabe titled his head a little. “Why did it make sense to you?”
“Because I’m the poor, gay one.”
“That’s why it makes sense to me too.”
“Mm-hmm,” Camille said before turning back to Rachel. “So what brings you to Philly?”
Gabe’s ears perked up at the question. Rachel hadn’t given him much of an answer when he’d asked before.
“For work,” Rachel said before picking up her drink and taking what seemed to be a gulp. “I’m a journalist. So I’m here on an assignment,” she finished.
“That’s neat. What’s the story?”
Rachel’s mouth opened and closed a couple times. Gabe felt like he was watching a fish that had been yanked out of the water.
The silence stretched on until Kellan interjected. “She’s writing about what goes on in men’s locker rooms.”
She’s… what? That seemed like a strange idea for a sports article. Despite the press being a common presence in the locker room after games, most of the time it was a safe space for the athletes. It was odd for a team to willingly crack open the doors and let a reporter have free reign in there.
“That’s not it, exactly,” Rachel corrected. She turned her head to look at Kellan, but Gabe couldn’t tell what that look consisted of. Judging by the way Kellan shrugged—an I-was-only-trying-to-help kind of gesture—Gabe guessed it wasn’t pleasant.
“I’m doing an article on the behind the scenes stuff athletes endure, but I won’t actually be going into the locker rooms. It will mostly focus on the stresses athletes face off the court or field, or… whatever.”
“Oh. That sounds interesting,” Gabe said. “Are you mostly focusing on hockey? Since that’s the only sport in season right now? Basketball doesn’t count because it’s boring.”
“Um, well, uh, no, no I’m focusing on all sports. The players don’t have to be in season to be able tell me about their experiences.” Rachel took another drink. “And I’m not limited to athletes here. Philly was just more central to travel out of since it’s close to Baltimore and Washington and New Jersey, and… other places.”
“That makes sense,” Gabe said.
“Good,” Rachel sighed. Her eyes widened. “I mean it’s good because a strong story should always make sense. Like the concept. If the concept doesn’t make sense, then the article probably won’t, either.”
Gabe smiled. “I can see how it would work like that.”
Rachel gave a soft laugh, which seemed to relax her whole body. Gabe wasn’t sure what caused her to get so tense when she was talking about her article. Maybe she was nervous about talking to the players or something. Which was a problem Gabe could fix.
“I could introduce you to some guys who’d be happy to talk to you. You probably have guys who’ve already agreed, but, if you need more, I can definitely make some calls.”
Rachel’s eyes brightened at his offer. “That’d be great. I’ll let you know.”
The conversation flowed more easily after that. Eventually, Camille moved to sit on the other side of Kellan, and Gabe slid closer to Rachel.
“You should let me take you to dinner while you’re here. When you have time, of course.” Gabe tried to not get his hopes up that she’d agree. This was a girl who’d snuck out of his hotel room at butt-fuck o’clock to get away from him. But seeing her here made it feel like fate had intervened, and he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try to sure up plans to see her again.
She smiled softly at him. “I’d like that.”
“Really?” He should’ve tried to hide how surprised he was at her easy acquiescence, but screw it. Her answering grin told him she’d liked it anyway.
“Yes, really.”
“You around Wednesday?” Business at the club had slowed down a little since the Super Bowl. It seemed everyone hibernated until March Madness kicked off and hockey playoffs began. Mike’s business logs had reported an annual decline in member attendance during this time of year, so at least Gabe knew not to blame himself. And it also meant he could easily sneak away for a date mid-week.
“I can be,” Rachel replied.
Gabe may have imagined the sultry look in her eyes, but he sure hoped he hadn’t.
***
Rachel slapped Kellan’s arm again as they walked down the busy city street. It was dark, and Rachel was surprised by how much time had passed inside the bar. It had felt like an hour, but had clearly been closer to three. “Locker rooms? Really?”
Kellan rubbed his arm where she’d hit him. “What? I was only trying to help. You were just sitting there like a jackass.”
“Telling Gabe that I’m writing a story about guys in locker rooms was you helping? I’d hate to see what you’d say if you were trying to sabotage me.”
“It’s the first thing that came to mind. It’s not my fault that my knowledge of sports is limited to fantasizing about them having orgies after games.”
Staring at him, Rachel said, “Stop acting like a stereotype.”
“What stereotype would that be?”
“That all men have sex on the brain twenty-four seven.”
Kellan laughed. “Sweetie, that is not a stereotype. Even your precious Gabe probably thought about it at least twenty times while we were there.”
Rachel scoffed. “He did not.” She was already regretting telling Kellan about her one-night-stand.
“Such a mature response,” Kellan teased. “And yes, he was. It was written all over his face when he looked at you. That boy is smitten.”
“Did you just say ‘smitten’?”
Kellan flipped her off and continued. “Why do you think he asked you on a date? Because he wanted to spend more time with your sparkling personality?”
“I don’t know why I hang out with you.”
Kellan sighed dramatically. “We’ve been over why.”
“You’re the worst.”
Kellan slung an arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “I know. It’s part of my charm.”
“If you say so,” Rachel muttered, but she let herself lean into him a little.
“You need to be careful with him, ya know,” Kellan said softly after a few steps.
Letting her head rest against his chest as they walked awkwardly down the street, Rachel replied, “I know.” And she did know. Gabe’s reasons for asking her out were romantic in nature. Or at the very least sexual—which was a concern she didn’t care to focus on at the moment. If she wasn’t careful to keep some distance, she’d end up leading him on when she knew it was a bad idea to mix business with pleasure.
But part of her also knew that she’d said yes to the date because she—Rachel the person, not Rachel the reporter—wanted to go out with Gabe. She liked being around him—really liked being around him, if she let her mind drift to their encounter after the Super Bowl. Enjoyed his energy and humor and genuineness.
Kellan gave her a squeeze. “Be careful with yourself too.”
Rachel replied with the only truth she had. “I’ll try.”