Authors: RaShelle Workman
“Now, I’m just going to lay down next to you until you fall asleep. I’ve already locked up the house, but I’ll lock the back door when I leave, okay.” I heard Gatsby growl, and the thud when Gabe dropped him to the floor. The bed shifted, as he got comfortable.
Then there was only breathing.
He meant it. Gabe was just going to lay there with me. I took a deep breath, and relaxed.
It reminded me of our overnighters when we were younger, sleeping out on the trampoline in our sleeping bags. The seven of them and me all started out at normal distances from each other, but by morning we’d all slid into the middle, a pajama-clad mash up of arms and legs.
I’d always been the first to wake up, and I’d lay there, listening to them breathing, and wish that was how we could be every night.
Me and my brothers, sleeping under the stars.
But my stepmother had pointed out that they weren’t really my brothers. They were boys, and all boys only had one thing on the brain.
By the time we turned ten
,
the sleepovers had ended
.
After a while, I fell asleep.
In my dreams there were arms wrapped protectively around me. My back tucked against his chest. Legs intertwined. And I heard a whisper. “Snow, my Snow. You aren’t alone.”
My heart soared with happiness in the dream, and I whispered back, “Gabe, don’t leave me.”
“Never, Snowflake.”
Chapter 5
T
he sun peeked through my sheer, purple bedroom curtains, its brightness burning my eyes. I was on my side, facing my alarm clock, which said seven o’clock. Solid breathing came from behind, tickling my neck. A weight pressed against my hip—Gabe’s arm. All that had happened last night came crashing back. And he was still there, in my bed, with me. I held my breath, and slowly rolled onto my back. Gabe shifted. A smile curled his lips.
“It’s a bit early for a Saturday, Snowflake.” His words were low, heavy with sleep.
Sexy, my mind uttered, and my heart responded by beating rapidly.
Before I could give him a comeback, my nose registered the sultry smell of bacon.
“Someone’s cooking,” I whispered.
“Do you think it’s the psychotic murderer? He’s going to feed us before he slays us?” he asked, mischievous.
I punched him in the arm. “You heard me last night?”
“Snowflake, I think the whole town heard you.” He opened his eyes then. Two beautiful pools of green searched my face, lingering on my lips, before focusing on my eyes. My face bloomed red, and I looked away. “I love it when you blush.”
“You do?” I couldn’t believe we were lying next to each other, and he’d stayed. All night. Did he like me? What about Cindy? Should I tell him she has a thing for him? His hand rested on my stomach and I wondered if he could feel the electricity buzzing beneath.
“Snowflake, I do.” He rolled onto his side, and I did the same, his fingers creating goose bumps as they moved back to my hip. Our noses practically touched, and I suddenly worried about morning breath. I hadn’t brushed my teeth. I turned in my lips, pressing them together. He started laughing. “What are you doing?”
Cupping a hand over my mouth, I said, “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
He grabbed my hand away. “Don’t care.”
Finally finding a snappy comeback, I replied, “Yeah, but what about your morning breath? It might singe my eyelashes.”
He laughed, and rolled off the bed. “You have a point. Let’s go see what the psychotic murderer is cooking along with that bacon.”
I grinned, thankful and disappointed that the moment had ended. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
He raised his eyebrows in question, and I glanced in the direction of my bathroom. “Ah,” was all he said as he went to the door.
A bolt of agony shot through my heart. I didn’t want him to leave. I’d clung to him in my dreams last night. Awake, I realized I didn’t want to stop. I needed him, with his incessant playfulness, and thoughtfulness. On top of that, well, he was hot. “Gabe,” I called, hearing the tremor in my voice.
He turned back, concerned. “Yeah, Snowflake.”
“Thank you.” I looked down, unsure. My feelings for him were new, and a part of me wished I could go back to just being his best friend.
He walked around the bed, to where I stood, and gripped my t-shirt that used to be his in his hand, making a fist, pulling me to him. He lifted my chin with a finger, but I kept my eyes down, focusing on his masculine hands that were big, but not too big.
“Are you going to be okay?”
I nodded, unable to understand why tears stung my eyes. He pulled me into his arms, and I reciprocated with a fervor I didn’t know I possessed. Tucking my face in his neck I held on as though my life depended on it.
We stayed that way a long time, until I heard snickering from the doorway.
“Professor Pops wanted me to tell you both to come down for breakfast.” It was Bart.
I cleared my throat.
Gabe whispered, “Never, Snowflake.” And he gave me a pointed look. My heart leapt into my throat. Maybe last night’s words, and the way he’d held me, hadn’t been dreams.
“Promise?” I examined his face, his eyes, to see if he was serious.
In answer he kissed my cheek, and my whole body melted like butter. “Promise.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Bart asked, obviously a little uncomfortable.
Gabe squeezed my hand, and then walked over to Bart, slapping him upside his blond head. “None of your business, Towhead. Now move.” He pushed Bart out the doorway, and followed him.
***
After handling the necessities—change of clothes, brushed teeth, and hair, and a bathroom break, I ran downstairs. All the guys were seated around the kitchen island, and at the table. I couldn’t help but smile. Having the kitchen bursting with delicious smells, and most of my favorite people, filled me with incessant happiness. “Hi,” I said, sitting in the oak dining chair next to Dorian. The guys were piling their plates with waffles, eggs, and more eggs, and cantaloupe, and strawberries. Taking a plate, I scooped some of the fruit onto it.
Professor Pops came over and plopped a waffle onto my plate. I looked up, grateful he’d done so much. “Thanks Professor, but I’m a vegan. No eggs or milk for me.” I grimaced, feeling bad. But I just couldn’t bring myself to eat anything meat or meat related. I picked up the waffle, but Professor placed a hand over mine and patted.
“I know all about it. These waffles were made without eggs, and I used soy milk instead of regular.”
“Oh,” I said, setting it back on my plate happily. Neither my dad nor my stepmother would’ve been so thoughtful. “Thank you.”
His clear gray eyes twinkled, and the skin around them scrunched as his smiled. “You’re welcome.”
The notion that he’d come over and cooked for me was incredible, and another testament to the reasons I adored his sons. He’d raised them after all. They were incredibly good, decent men because that’s the example Professor Pops set for them. I had to wonder how he and the guys had gotten in, and where all the food came from. My refrigerator held soy yogurt, apples, raw almonds, and orange juice, and I had some whole-wheat pasta and tomato sauce in the pantry, but that was about it. I wasn’t going to ask him though. That would’ve been rude. Besides, I was too busy stuffing my face with fruit covered waffle. Gabe sat at the island, his back to me, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to him during breakfast.
There’d been a lot of grunting, and chewing going on after Sebastian uttered a quick prayer, but not much else. The food was divine. Afterward, I helped Professor Pops clean up the kitchen. Salvatore and Bart had apologized, clearing the air.
When it was just the two of us in the kitchen, Professor Pops filled the large kitchen sink with hot water, and dish soap. A perfectly good stainless steel dishwasher had been installed next to the sink, but he wanted to hand wash the dishes. “You know we could throw these in there.” I pointed at the dishwasher.
“True, but where’s the fun in that?” He wriggled his eyebrows, and I giggled.
He handed me a plate. I dried it, and placed it in the cupboard.
Casually, he said, “Your sixteenth birthday is in two months.”
“It is,” I agreed.
“Have you made any plans yet?”
I stood beside him and took another plate he handed me. It was hot, and I hurriedly dried it. “Not yet. My parents won’t be back from St. Bart’s, so I’m not sure.”
He didn’t say anything right away. I looked up. His jaw flexed and his eyes were scrunched as though he had to concentrate to wash the plate.
Professor Pops had thick gray hair. He was tall, and lean. I figured he’d probably been very handsome when he was younger. As it was, I’d say he was distinguished. He had on a pair of tan slacks, a red and white checkered button-up shirt, and a tan sweater with dark suede patches at the elbows. On his feet were loafers, and in his left breast pocket were silver wire-rimmed reading glasses. He was the epitome of what I believed a Professor of Religion should look like. Well a Professor of any kind, really.
After I put away the dried plate, I came back, for the next one. “It isn’t a big deal. Maybe I’ll invite the guys, and Cindy over to watch a movie. That’ll be fun.”
He blew out a breath, and I deliberated if I’d made him mad. “Professor?” I asked, tentative.
He dropped the plate in the soapy sink, letting it splash, and turned to me. Taking the towel in my hands, he dried off his, and then placed it on the counter. “Snow, I know I’m not your father, but over the years I’ve come to look at you as an adoptive daughter. I’m very fond of you.” His eyes glowed, and wrinkled as he spoke.
“I know,” I said, my insides tingling with the sweet warmth of love. I was curious as to what he was getting at.
“I’ll call your father, and stepmother,” the word came out like it’d been laced with acid, “and ask their permission, of course, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to throw you a birthday party at my place. Something big, grand, something that declares to the world what an amazing young woman you are.” At the last part he squeezed my shoulders affectionately.
Unbidden tears crept into my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away. What was up with me? “You don’t have to,” I said.
“I would be honored if you’d allow me to. This old man hasn’t ever had the chance to throw an extravagant birthday party. All the boys ever want is pizza, and some sort of activity.”
“An activity sounds great,” I inserted hurriedly. I didn’t want him to have to go to all the trouble.
“No, please. Let me do this. May I?” He took one of my hands and held it between his. They were soft, and warm.
“Okay,” I said, a little shyly.
“Excellent.” He patted my hand. “Now, about Gabe?”
I swallowed a lump I hadn’t known existed in my throat. “Gabe?” I squeaked out.
“Yes.” He nudged me over to the table and we both sat. “The boy—”
The whole group forced their way into the kitchen, and one of the guys cleared his throat, interrupting whatever Professor Pops had been about to say.
Dorian spoke, “We were wondering if we could take the train into Boston?”
Professor Pops patted my hand, and stood. “That sounds intriguing.” He looked from Salvatore to Bart. “Bathrooms clean, first. Then you may go. Just be home before midnight.” He handed Dorian some money he’d pulled from the wallet in his back pocket.
“You have your cells if there’s an emergency?” They all nodded, and I hid a smile behind my hand. They were men, the two youngest were Gabe, and Dorian, and they were both seventeen. Four would be graduating from high school this year, but they knew Professor Pops cared for them a great deal, and would never intentionally disrespect him. A twinge of longing surged through me.
Gabe walked over and asked, “Want to come, Snowflake?”
The guys all added their assent. I searched Gabe’s face. Did he really want me to tag along? It seemed that he did. “Sure. Sounds fun.” The brother’s took off, leaving Professor Pops and I alone. I wanted to bring up Gabe, and ask him what he was going to say, but I couldn’t figure out a way.