“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
He finally looks at me, and there’s something raw in his expression that makes my chest constrict. “I just don’t feel like partying anymore. Let’s go back.”
I want to push and find out what the hell happened back there, why he ran, why he looks like someone just gutted him. Is it because I stared at him like a creep when I kissed Sofia? Or is it about Blaine Ashford again? But his face is shuttered, and I know he’s not going to talk about it here.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”
We step out from under the awning and into the full force of the rain. It’s cold and heavy, soaking through my shirt in seconds, plastering my hair to my forehead. Gabriel starts walking, his stride quick and purposeful, and I fall into step beside him.
The docks aren’t far, maybe a five-minute walk, but it feels longer in the rain. My shoes squelch with every step, and the streets are empty except for a few people huddled under awnings or running for cover. We don’t talk. The rain is too loud anyway, drowning out everything else.
By the time we reach the docks, my clothes are stuck to my skin, heavy and uncomfortable. Gabriel is already climbing into the boat by the time I catch up, moving with the kind of single-minded focus that doesn’t leave room for conversation. I untie the rope and step in after him, settling into the seat across from him as he starts the engine.
The motor sputters to life, and Gabriel steers us away from the dock. The lake is rougher than it was earlier, the surface choppy and dark under the rain. Small waves slap against the hull, rocking us side to side. I grip the edge of the boat and watch Gabriel’s face as he navigates.
He looks calm and determined. His eyes are fixed on the water, and there’s no trace of the panic or upset I saw on his face under the awning. It’s like he flipped a switch, buried whatever he was feeling under a layer of competence and control.
Thunder rolls across the mountains on the horizon. Lightning flashes a moment later, illuminating the dark shapes of the hills against the sky. My stomach tightens. We shouldn’t be out on the water in this. It’s not safe.
But Gabriel doesn’t slow down. If anything, he pushes the throttle a little harder, and the boat picks up speed, slicing through the waves. Water sprays up over the sides, adding to the rain that’s already drenched us.
I don’t say anything. I just hold on and keep my eyes on Gabriel, watching the way his hands grip the wheel, the way his shoulders stay steady despite the rocking of the boat. I trust that he knows what he’s doing.
I want to say something to fill the silence, but I don’t know what. I don’t know how to ask him what’s wrong without making it worse. I don’t know how to explain what happened on the dance floor, the way I couldn’t stop watching him kiss that guy, the way something sharp and ugly twisted in my chest when I saw his lips on someone else’s.
I don’t even understand it myself.
The villa comes into view after what feels like forever, its outline dark against the storm. Gabriel slows the boat as we approach the pier, the motor dropping to a low idle. He maneuvers us in with the same careful precision as before, but his movements are jerky now, tension radiating off him in waves.
He kills the engine and climbs out before the boat is even fully stopped, grabbing the rope and tying it off with quick motions. His hands fumble on the knot, and I see his jaw clench.
“Gabriel—”
He doesn’t look back. He just steps onto the pier and starts walking toward the villa, his strides fast.
I climb out of the boat, my legs unsteady from the ride and the alcohol still buzzing in my veins. “Gabriel!”
He doesn’t stop. If anything, he walks faster, his shoulders hunched against the rain.
I jog after him, closing the distance. “Gabriel, wait—”
He stumbles. It’s just a slight catch in his step as his foot slips on the wet stone, but it’s enough to throw him off balance. I lunge forward and grab his shoulders, my hands closing around the soaked fabric of his shirt. He catches himself, bracing against me, and I turn him around so he’s facing me.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” My voice is hoarse. “Please.”
He looks up at me, and the expression on his face stops my breath. His eyes are wide and dark, rainwater streaming down his cheeks, and there’s something desperate and wild in them.
He doesn’t say anything. He just reaches up, his hand tangling in my soaked shirt, and pulls me down.
His lips crash into mine.
For one stunned second, I can’t move, can’t think, can’t do anything but stand there with Gabriel’s mouth pressed against mine and the rain pouring down around us.
Then my brain catches up, and I part my lips.
Gabriel makes a sound in the back of his throat, low and broken, and his hand tightens in my shirt. My hands come up to cradle his face, my fingers sliding against his wet skin, and I kiss him back with everything I have. His mouth is warm and desperate, his lips moving against mine like he’s drowning, and I’m air. My thumbs brush over his cheekbones, and he leans intothe touch, his other hand coming up to grip my shoulder. The rain is soaking through our clothes, plastering our hair to our heads, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except the way Gabriel tastes, the way he feels pressed against me, the way his breath hitches when I tilt my head and deepen the kiss.
