Chapter Thirty
Jonathan
I breathe a sigh of relief when I get back to my house. No photographers linger outside, apparently bored with me being gone for a week. Or they’re all in California and haven’t gotten back yet. Either way, I don’t care. It’s nice to be able to drag my suitcase from the car to the door without flashes going off in my face. It wasn’t a problem in the gated community where my parents moved us after we started getting media attention when I was in high school. So it’s been a relief for over a week now.
But most of all, I’m relieved to be close enough to see Gabby again. She’s been acting weird when we’ve talked the last couple of days, hurrying to get off the phone, sounding sad and out of sorts. Not at all like the talkative, opinionated girl I’m used to.
Pulling out my phone, I send her a quick text before I start unpacking. I’m home, finally. Come by in 30 to pick you up?
While I’m tossing dirty clothes in the hamper and putting clean ones back in my drawers and closet, I get her response. My brother is letting me borrow his car. I’ll be there soon.
Huh. Normally she’s happy to have me pick her up. But if her brother’s cool with being without his car until sometime tomorrow, then I’m not going to complain.
I finish unpacking and put away my suitcase, even though I’ll need it again in just a couple of weeks. Is Gabby going to leave right away after finals? Probably, since it’s her first semester. I know she misses her family, and I’m sure they’d like her home as soon as they can get her. But the thought of being away from her for a month so soon after our recent, and painful, week-long separation makes me ache deep inside. Maybe I can fly out to Texas for a week or two? That’d give us both something to look forward to.
And maybe, since she’ll have her own room, we can have some fun sexting at night. That wasn’t possible this trip with her sleeping on her brother’s couch. I tried a couple of times, but she shut it down, saying that she didn’t want them to overhear anything if she couldn’t keep herself quiet.
A knock on the door has me furrowing my brow as I head into the living room. Gabby’s standing there when I open the door. I give her a funny look and pull her inside, into my arms. “Hey. What’s with the knocking? You should’ve just come in.”
She shrugs, unable to respond because I’m kissing her, imprinting the feel and taste of her into my body again. Her fingers clutch convulsively at my shirt, but her hands don’t slide behind my neck like they normally do. She’s responding to my kiss, but it feels like she’s holding back.
Pulling back, I look her over, noticing for the first time the sad cast to her face. “What’s wrong, Gabby?”
She ducks her head so I can’t see her face anymore and steps out of my arms.
“Gabby?”
After taking another two or three steps back, she straightens her shoulders, her chin coming up first before her eyelids finally lift, pinning me with her gaze. I recognize this move. This is Gabby gathering her courage. But why does she need to do that?
Before I can ask what’s going on again, she answers my question. With the worst thing I’ve ever heard.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
My ears are ringing, and I reach out to hold onto the arm of the couch as the world tilts. “What?”
She starts to wrap her arms around herself, but forces her hands to her sides, still keeping her gaze steady. “I’m sorry. It’s not a good idea. You said when we first got together that you thought you should stay away from me. You were probably right.” Her voice finally breaks on the last sentence.
“What are you talking about?” I can’t process what she’s saying. Her words don’t make sense. I should’ve stayed away? She wishes we hadn’t gotten together?
Her posture crumples, and she folds in on herself, shaking her head and breaking eye contact. “The first time I kissed you. You said you tried to stay away because of our age difference. At the time I didn’t see what the big deal was, but I get it now. Us getting involved was never a good idea. You’re leaving, and I’m—“ She swallows hard. “I’m staying.”
“Gabby. Look at me.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t.” Her voice is a tortured whisper.
I want to grab her. Shake her. Make her see sense. Instead I ask the only question pounding in my head now. Why? “Why are you doing this?”
Her hands spread in front of her in a gesture of helplessness. “What other choice do we have? You’re—You have to move to California. Maybe at Christmas. Maybe you’ll stay through May.”
“I’m not fucking quitting this close to graduating.” That would be stupid, and even thinking that makes me angry.
She nods, her eyes flicking over my face, her expression forlorn as she looks away again. “Okay. So you’re here till May. We have a few more months to get even more attached, and then what? You’ll go to California, and I’ll go to Texas for the summer. And in the fall? I’ll be back here. And you’ll be—who knows where you’ll be? You’ll have a new album coming out soon.” She shakes her head again. “No. It’s better this way. It’s better to end this now before we’re even more invested. Before …” But she stops, not finishing whatever she was going to say.
“I’m already invested. All the way. I’ve been all in all along. I thought you were too.”
Her eyes meet mine, shiny with tears, and my gut twists at the sight. “I was. I am. But don’t you see? That’s why this has to end now. It’s—I can’t—“ She looks all around, searching for the right words. When she speaks again, her voice is low and full of tears. “This is already breaking me. I’ll shatter into a million pieces if I wait any longer. I can’t do this. I can’t go with you, and I can’t ask you to stay. It’s … better if we both have time to heal before you leave. It’s pointless to delay the inevitable anyway.”
My mouth falls open, unable to come up with any kind of argument to counter what she’s saying. “I thought we could figure something out. I love you.”
The tears overflow her eyes at my tortured whisper, running over her cheeks and dripping off her chin. Her lips tremble, but she doesn’t give an inch. “I love you too. Which is why this is so hard.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “But it’s still for the best. I’m sorry.”
With those last whispered words, she heads for the door.
“Gabby. No. Wait. Please don’t do this.” My own tears are rising to the surface, but I fight them down. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. She was supposed to come over and stay the night and spend the day with me tomorrow. We were going to make love and watch movies and play music together. She was supposed to celebrate my success with me. She’s what makes the music happen, what makes the music worthwhile. I don’t want to do this without her.
But I can’t get any of those words out. They crash together in my brain, clogging in my throat, my mouth open, but no sound coming as she pauses at the door, looking me over one more time, her gaze sweeping up and down my body like she’s taking a mental picture.
And then she’s gone.