"Hello!" I immediately recognize the voice due to the heavy accent covering it.
I throw him an unimpressed look, leaning forward over the counter. "Hello," I reply bitterly, dragging out the vowels. His eyes shift to the side to avoid meeting my gaze as I watch him, tight-lipped.
"Our first customer of the day!" We finally make eye contact, and he grins nervously.
"Wrong, Gabriel."
He blinks, bemused, and I sigh. He clicks a ballpoint pen repeatedly, scratching at the lettering on it that advertises a real estate company. I watch him chipping off little bits of paint for a moment, and then speak again.
"Let me in."
"You're working here now?"
"Yes," I inform him exasperatedly. "I told you three times."
He disappears from the window and steps over to the door. I hear him speak from behind it, but can't make out any words because of the door and the accent.
"I can't understand a word you're saying."
"What's the password?" he repeats.
"The password is open the fucking door," I say tartly, eyes boring into the white wooden door.
He sighs heavily, letting me into the small closet-like space. "Whatever, Bill."
"Whatever, Gabe." I shut the door behind me, locking it and sitting down on an upturned box. Gabe takes a seat on the office chair and resumes clicking his pen; I begin scratching at the black paint on my fingernails. We sit silently but for the repeated sounds from the pen and the small chipping sounds from my fingers, both looking down at the cement.
"Slow business, eh?" I finally quip to break the silence.
"Yeah." His voice is dismal. It's my fault.
"Sorry," I mutter reluctantly, and he knows it has nothing to do with slow business. I realize that I almost like the cheery, obnoxious version of him better than the gloomy one. This Gabe is boring.
He looks up at me like I have two heads, probably wondering why I've become so suddenly and uncharacteristically apologetic. I'm wondering too. I guess I've always felt a little bad for the kid. He just moved, and has about one friend.
"It's....it's okay."
I smile weakly in his direction and then look back at the floor. There are footsteps and I cast my gaze up to find a scrawny little freshman.
"This is the student store, right?" she asks in a timid voice.
"Yes," I say blankly, forcing myself not to be rude.
"Um...can I get...um...a Gatorade?"
"What color?" My voice remains a monotone.
"Umm...blue."
I turn back to the refrigerator, opening it and pulling out a blue bottle of Gatorade. I then turn to the freshman, stepping up to the window and looking down at her. "One dollar."
She pulls a crumpled bill out of her pocket, sliding it across the counter towards me. I snatch it up, handing her the frighteningly colorful beverage and shoving the dollar into the money box in a drawer attached to the counter.
Gabe glances at me as she walks away, and I shut the drawer, turning and staring at him. I hear a car start up in the distance as I watch him play with the ballpoint pen.
"Do you hate me?" he asks, staring at the writing utensil and picking at the yellow paint.
I look at him curiously. "No," I answer softly, and he looks up. I search his eyes, clearing my throat and licking my lips. My mouth is uncomfortably dry. "I never have."
He gives me a painful look and then turns back to the pen. "Really?"
I nod, my gaze finding a box of creepy snacks and resting there. It probably looks like I'm lying, but I'm not. Gabe stands up, moving towards me, and my heart speeds up for a moment before he brushes past me to stand in the window, turning his attention to a boy outside it.
"How can I help you?" he asks lengthily, staring the kid down.
"What?" The boy is befuddled by Gabe's voice.
I shake my head at my own stupidity, sitting back down on the box as my mind wanders into places it's forbidden to go.
"Closing time!" Gabe says cheerfully, extracting the money box from the mess inside the drawer and pulling down the window's cover. The glaring heat from the low sun is shut out, and the only light in the space is provided by a naked light bulb screwed into the ceiling that casts shadows over us both. He begins counting the afternoon's profits, and I lean back into the cardboard boxes on the floor behind me, relaxing.
He looks down at me, smiling warmly before going back to the money. I stare at him, knowing that I can because he's focused entirely on his calculations. I close my eyes after a while, head tilted up towards the ceiling, skull throbbing with a headache.
I feel sick.
"Bill?"
"Hmm." My eyes are still closed.
"Are you okay?"
"Mmm."
I hear the swivel chair whine as it's relieved of Gabe's weight, and a few tentative footsteps. I finally turn to look at him; he's kneeling next to me. "Sure?" he asks me quietly. I nod furtively, meeting his gaze for a second before I pull myself up off the ground and walk over to lean against the locked door. Gabe stands too, closing the money box and tucking it under his arm.
"I guess we should go, hmm?"
"Y-yeah," I sigh heavily, my brain pulsing. "Yeah."
He looks at me sideways. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I just have a headache. Let's go." I turn around and unlock the door, but before I open it I feel Gabe's hand on my shoulder. I turn back to him, lips parted, to find my face less than an inch away from his.
"I...." His breath hits my face. "I...uh."
"Y..." I take a deep breath, pressing my back up against the door.
His lips are practically brushing against mine; I can feel the warmth of his body heat.
"I..." Before I know it, I'm kissing him on an impulse, on some crazy idea, and I'm scared when his eyes widen and he freezes up, ready to stutter an apology in some form. But then he's kissing back gently, eyes flickering shut with mine.
It ends just as fast as it started, and his cheeks turn bright pink. I feel my face heat up as well, and I try to say something, failing and turning away to open the door. I stumble out into the bright light, putting a hand up to shield myself from the sun before I've readjusted to it.
"I....let's...um. We need to give Mr. Davidson the money," I say before I can embarrass myself with making any other comments, looking at a still blushing Gabe and then in the direction of our destination, the classroom. I begin walking away, my hands shaking. I hear Gabe's footsteps and the coins rattling around in the box behind me, each in time with each other.
No one speaks. I look back at him and he looks away, down and to the side, avoiding eye contact with me.
If I can't get through to him that way, I might as well say something.
"That was nice," I say quietly, mentally kicking myself immediately after. I feel stupid.
"Yeah..." he says, still looking away. "It was. Eso fue asombroso."
I feel even more stupid, not bothering to ask for a translation. I look back in front of me, continuing to walk towards Mr. Davidson's classroom in silence. The coins slide and jump in the box.
-
It's hot and sticky. My cousins are the spawn of Satan. I miss Gabriel Saporta like no other. My mattress is rock hard. The phone is ringing. I have homework that needs finishing.
One of the twice-removed assholes picks up the telephone and then yells my name. No, not my name, a nickname that no one dares breathe in front of me if they want to keep their face intact. Except the despicable cousins; they'll stop at nothing to piss me off. They do it well, I'll give them that.
"Who the hell is Bilvy?" I shout down the stairs, lifting myself off my back and sitting on the edge of the bed.
"You, silly!" The mocking sound of pure four-year-old evil.
Another one chimes in. "Stupid!"
And another. "Your boyfriend's on the phone!" Laughter at the immature joke. Yeah, laugh all you want, let's see what's funny when I smash your face in.
A snide remark about me painting my nails, said to the one with the boyfriend comments. I get up slowly, plastering a deadly smile across my face and making my way down the stairs. I reach the morons and snatch the phone from a freckled one. I put it to my ear, glaring at the suddenly quiet cousins.
"Boyfriend, eh?" Gabe's voice. My face turns bright red.
"Look, he's blushing!" one of the littler ones shrieks gleefully.
"Oh, he is?" Gabe says, chuckling.
I pull the phone away from my head, facing the children. "Shut. The fuck. Up. I will fucking beat you." I turn around, heading towards the stairs and walking up, shutting myself back in my bedroom and locking the door.
"H-How did you get my number?" I stammer, waiting for the freaks to come put their ears to the door and giggle.
"Mike." His one friend. I make a mental note to hit him.
"Oh."
"I. Um. I need help with my homework, and you're, like, smart."
"Which class?"
"Math."
I stare at the door exasperatedly, hearing a small sound and a cut-off laugh. My blood boils.
"Will you excuse me for a moment?" I say so that only Gabe can hear, and then put down the phone.
"I love you," I say loudly. "I love you so much...I wish you were here right now. So I could kiss you and hold you in my arms. I am in love with you. Will you marry me?" I'm almost yelling by the end of my statements. The cousins burst into laughter, and then run away, just the reaction I was looking for. I sigh, picking the phone up and acknowledging Gabe.
"Sorry about that, my cousins are hell."
"You have some interesting ways of getting rid of them."
"Well listen, man, I'm sorry, but I'm not gonna be able to help anyone with anything in this house. You wanna go to the park or something and work on it? I don't know, I hate my cousins."
"Why don't you just come over?"
I was flustered. "O-Okay, yeah, um. Where do you live?"
-
My heart races. The summer heat and humidity is worse than ever. I feel my pulse pounding throughout my body, almost drowning out the heated whispers and breaths in my ear. A sheen of sweat covers me completely; my movements are blurred. I move my head forward and open my mouth, finding skin and lathing over it with my tongue. The breathing is louder. The adrenaline rushing through me makes me feel sick with pleasure.
My hands press against and move over hot skin, feeling muscles and bones underneath, moving rhythmically. My name is breathed along with a string of Spanish words, and I squeeze my eyes closed, exhaling loudly as I feel a thick warmth across my stomach. My hand instinctively shoots down to my abdomen, landing in the liquid. I open my eyes to look into Gabe's, eyelids low and lazy. He kisses me briefly, and I extract my hand from under the covers, holding it away from us and smiling weakly.
Peeling the sheets off of us, he leans down, brushing his lips across my chest. They move down slowly, trailing across my stomach and licking the substance off. I whine at the contact of his warm mouth on me, my hand finding the edge of the blanket and clutching it.
"Gabe...Gabe stop..."
He obeys, kissing my stomach and then laying down so his face is level with mine. I slide my tongue across his lower lip and he closes his mouth around it; I can taste the bitterness on his lips.
I pull away from him, slowly getting up off the bed and walking into the bathroom. I flip the light switch on, washing my hands and looking in the mirror. Red bite marks cover my neck, sweat shines on my skin. I splash my face with water and dry it off, returning to the bedroom and looking at Gabe.
He gives me a look, one that says he wants me over where he is, but instead of returning to him, which I want to do, I pick up my clothes off the floor, grimacing at the way they stick to me once they're on.
"Your mom," I say breathlessly. He looks at me longingly, and I shake my head, repeating myself.
"Get dressed."
He reluctantly obliges, throwing jeans and a t-shirt on and heading towards the door. I scoff, going over to the bed and pulling all the covers up over the mess we made.
"You better do the laundry tonight, or we'll get caught." He turns back to look at me, and I pull the sheet up slightly, pointing at it irately.
"Okay," he sighs, walking out the door. "Fine." I follow him into the kitchen, where his mother turns to look at us, smiling nervously.
"Sounded like you two were fighting," she laughs, her Mexican--excuse me, Uruguayan--accent even thicker than Gabe's.
"He stepped on my foot," I lie before Gabe can say anything dumber.
Gabe nods, going along with me.
"It's hot, huh?" she says, fanning her face with a manicured hand and glancing at a sizzling pan of mystery food on the stove.
"Yeah," I say, gesturing towards the sweat that covers both Gabe and I. "It's really hot."
"Mama," Gabe says. "William helped me with my homework, so that's done. Yeah."
"Good," she says, as if waiting for him to continue. I smirk ever-so-slightly at the mention of the imaginary algebra homework, looking down and playing with the pocket of my ridiculously tight jeans so no one would see my expression. I notice Gabe's mom's gaze rest on my fingernails for a moment, and then flicker back up to her son's face.
"Gabriel, tienes cosas que hacer, tiene que ayudarme. Tendrá tiempo para sus amigos más tarde."
"Bill?" he says. "I've got stuff to do. Um, but if you want to hang out tomorrow..."
"I need to get back to my cousins anyway." I roll my eyes at the thought of them. "Make sure they aren't burning the house down." He walks me to the door of the small house, grinning at me.
"Thanks for the help," he says quietly, and I walk out into the sunlight.
-
"Ah, first customer of the day," Gabe deadpans.
"Oh, shut up." I was still pissed at my cousins for deciding to tell stories about what I was probably doing over at Gabe's house. I had briefly yelled at them and informed them that it was a strictly-business-study session, no more and no less. I think the little ones learned some new words from me this morning.
"Password?"
Without replying, I calmly take a key out of my pocket and unlock the door of the student store. I enter, and he smiles at me, walking up and pulling me into a warm embrace. I make a small sound of surprise, returning the gesture and then stepping away to take my place on the plastic box.
He stares at me, eyes lasering into mine. "Yesterday..." he begins, but I cut him off, burying my face in my hands.
"I don't want to talk about it," I mumble through my fingers, silently cursing the tears that spring to my eyes. I barely even know the guy.
"It's okay. Todo está bien."
I turn to him, enraged. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm fucking British, you see?" I gesture wildly at myself. "White as a ghost! Do you expect me to understand you? Or does it please you that I have no idea what you're telling me?"
He cringes slightly. "I...no. I'm sorry. It means that everything's okay. It means 'all is well.'"
"Well it's not!"
He looks away. We're back to square one, where I'm a total bitch and he feels sorry for himself. Nothing's changed.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" I say loudly, tears flowing freely now.
"I didn't mean it," I say, softly this time.
He remains silent.
I hear footsteps stop, waiting at the window. "What do you want?" I grumble, not trying to have manners this time. Manners are not for me.
Gabe stands, walking so he's in behind the window and in front of me. "Hi, how can I help you?" he asks cheerfully.
I sit there and wonder about the relationship between Gabe and I. Is it even a relationship? No, it's a messy kiss inside the student store and random sexual spontaneity. And that? At the time, I barely even knew what I was doing.
It's just another way to break hearts and have my heart broken.
I keep crying, at this point not particularly caring what the accumulating line of students outside the window think of me. It doesn't matter.
"A-Are you okay?" I hear an unfamiliar voice stutter in my direction.
"No, I'm not okay," I say angrily into my hands. "What's it to you?"
"S...Sorry..."
"Yeah," I mutter, getting up off the box and retreating into a corner by the door where no one can see me.
I sit, watch, and wait as Gabe tends to the customers, all out of tears and sadness. Gabe gives me worried glances, but I look away every time he does, avoiding eye contact with him. I worry because I'm not helping him with the work, but know I'm in no fit state to interact with students and exercise my people skills (or lack thereof). So I just wait and observe until he's finally done with everyone.
He comes up to me, sitting in front of me and reaching out to gently brush my hair out of my eyes.
"What's wrong, cielo?"
I finally bring myself to look up at him. "I...it's not you, it's my cousins...and me. I'm just...a little stressed out about what happened yesterday...I...I don't know."
"Well...don't worry, it didn't mean-"
"Yeah, it didn't mean anything, I know, that's exactly where the problem lies." I stare at him painfully.
"It didn't mean to make things worse," he says softly.
"It did."
He turns away from me, at a loss for words. Someone comes up to the window, and I stand, making my way over to it.
"Hi."
"I need a pencil," the guy says. "Actually three. Thanks."
I retrieve the pencils, telling him the price. He digs for money in his pockets, looking at me. "You remind me of my sister," he tells me as he searches.
"Is your sister apathetic and cruel?"
"Nah, you just look like her."
I self-consciously brush my hair back behind my shoulder, frowning at him. "Thanks, man, that's just what every guy wants to hear."
"No, b-but she's really pretty," he says, backpedaling.
I give him a look, taking the money from him and handing him the pencils. Gabe laughs quietly and I ignore him, narrowing my eyes as the student leaves.
"Shouldn't you be going to class?" I ask Gabe, a few minutes before lunch ends.
"Not yet." He starts cleaning up the desk-like piece of furniture attached to the wall beneath the window; I lock up the money box and wait by the door as he clears off the mess of office supplies and assorted food items.
He finishes and moves towards me and the door, smirking and kissing me chastely on the lips before he brushes past me, out the door. I take a moment to recollect myself before following him, locking the door behind me and glaring furiously at the back of his head.
Wordlessly, he turns to the direction of his fifth period class and me to mine.
-
I laugh breathlessly. "Please."
Lips find my earlobe and hips dip down into mine. I breathe in slowly, my hand pressing into the carpet.
The lips trail along my jaw line, finally reaching mine and opening to catch them. His tongue caresses my own; my body relaxes against the soft ground.
Gabe's hands lock over my wrists and don't let go.
Not like I'm asking him to.
-
"Hey Bilvy."
I rub my temples with my forefingers, refusing to respond to the inane nickname.
"Where's your boyfriend?"
"He doesn't exist."
"Come on, where is he?"
I draw in a deep breath, closing my eyes. "I don't know who you're talking about."
"Him." I open my eyes slowly, seeing my nine-year old cousin point in the direction of the stairs. I don't look over where he's pointing, just sink further into the couch and wrap my arms around my knees, holding them close to me.
"That...is my.....coworker," I tell him.
"Come swimming with us," the cousin says in a somewhat whiny voice.
"No."
"How come?"
"My friend is here." I stretch out slightly on the couch, still ignoring said friend.
"I thought he was your cooperation."
"Fuck off, Jonah." He fucks off out to the swimming pool. Gabe comes over to me, sitting sideways in my lap and draping both arms around me.
Great. The family bastards will have more scary stories to tell in the dark. I hope they have nightmares.
Gabe's lips brush against mine, but I stay frozen, forcing myself not to respond. I'm not in the mood for romance. He tries to kiss me, but I stay still, and he gives up.
"What's the matter, cielo?"
I sigh heavily. "Nothing....I need to do homework. I really do. I....AP English."
He can tell I'm making excuses so I don't have to deal with him.
"I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry. I can go, I understand if you don't want me here...or at all.
"No...." I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight and burying my face in his chest. He must have forgotten or lost his shirt in my room. I smile slightly, probably suffocating him. "No."
"I love you."
He slides off my lap and onto the couch, still keeping me close to him. "I love you too," he murmurs in my ear.
Tears fall and stain his shirt. I am the textbook example of emotionally unstable. Gabe comforts me.
"I love you so much that I hate you." I move my head up, kissing him without caring who sees. "I hate you so much."
-
The next afternoon at the student store I was the first customer of the day.