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Besides, maybe Bernard is right. It’s not like Gabriel’s playing for peanuts; the winner of the Australian Open receives almost three million dollars. No doubt Bernard gets a cut of the prize money.
This is Gabriel’s dream. It’s everything he’s worked for, and if I’m putting it in jeopardy, maybe I need to be the bigger person and pull back. Cut this off before someone gets hurt.
And whatisthis really—a fling with someone who jets off as soon as he loses a match? Is that worth all this drama? But as soon as I think that, I remember the way Gabriel looked sitting on the edge of the Yarra, the way my heart spluttered at his smile, and I know I’m kidding myself.
After being in the sun all morning, I dump my clothes in the laundry basket and wash the sweat and sunscreen off my body. The cool water feels like heaven.
Pulling on a pair of loose cotton shorts, I head into the kitchen to fix a sandwich. Sadie nudges me as I open a packet of ham, smearing her wet nose across my thigh. I feed her a little and she runs off.
I’m about to distract myself with something on Netflix when the doorbell rings. Putting my sandwich on the side table, I haul my arse off the lounge and go to answer it.
I expect to see a fluoro-yellow mailman’s vest or maybe a kid selling raffle tickets but when I open the door, it’s Gabriel. He stands on my doorstep, chest heaving. His eyes are wild and red-rimmed and his hair is a frizzy halo around his face.
‘Gabi.’ I can’t hide my surprise.
‘Hey,’ he says breathlessly, and the butterflies that seem to have taken up residence in my stomach for the past few days take flight.
Sadie pushes past me, snuffling at Gabriel’s shorts. He smiles and reaches down to pat her.
‘I found the neighbourhood on the map. Then I walked the blocks looking for the yellow door and the rosebush.’ Maybe it’s the heat, but I swear I see a blush rise on his cheeks. He sounds delirious. Hell, he just admitted he practicallystalkedme on Google Maps. ‘Papa told me what happened. I’m sorry. Can I come in?’
‘Um, sure.’ I move aside to let him past. Realising I don’t have a shirt on, and it’d be impolite to have company half-naked, I go into my bedroom to find one. ‘Let me grab a shirt.’
Gabriel’s tongue peeks out to wet his dry lips. Heat prickles along my spine and before I can do—or say—something stupid, I retreat into my bedroom. Gabriel follows.
‘Whatever Papa said, it’s not true,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry he confronted you like that; it’s not what I want.’
I open the drawer of my dresser, rifling through the mess of fabric. ‘I don’t know, he made it pretty clear I wasn’t welcome.’
He has spent too long preparing for this tournament for it to be wasted because of you. Bernard’s words come back to me.Do not contact him again.
‘He’s wrong. I wanted you there,’ Gabriel says. ‘I don’t care what he says, and neither should you.’
‘He’s your dad, Gabriel.’ I finally find an old black crewneck and turn back to him. ‘The last thing I want is to cause unnecessary drama or distract you from your training. Also—’
Gabriel steps closer and whatever I was about to say simply disappears. I feel the heat radiating from his body. He’s still wearing the same clothes he played in and he smells earthy. Primal.
‘I played foryoutoday. Not for my dad. Not for the championship. You.’
‘Gabi,’ I manage. His gaze drops to my mouth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. His hand rests at the hinge of my hip. I feel the dry calluses on his palm drag against my stomach and try not to imagine how it’d feel to have him touch me in other places, too.
‘I’ll lose a thousand more times in my career,’ Gabriel says, glancing up at me through thick, dark lashes. ‘I’ll lose for a thousand different reasons, but it’ll never,everbe your fault.’
Fuck. Without thinking about it, I thread my fingers through Gabi’s hair, cradling the back of his neck.
His thumb runs across my lower lip before it smooths down my jawline. God, is this really happening? He looks at me, his deep brown eyes raw and unfiltered, so full of emotion andwant. No one’severlooked at me like this; no one’s ever wanted me like this.
‘Noah, I—’ Gabriel’s throat bobs as he swallows, and his eyes search mine.
We both know what he wants to do.
I can’t let him overthink this. I curl my fingers into the back of his head and pull him closer.
‘Kiss me, Gabriel.’
So he does.
Gabriel’s mouth meets mine with unrestrained passion and urgency. My back hits my dresser and itthunksagainst the wall. The t-shirt I’m holding drops to the floor as Gabriel’s mouth slides against mine.
