Toxic

“Performance anxiety,” I answered honestly. “I always mess up when I have to perform my pieces. My hands freeze up and I don’t know. It never fails. I’ll practice for hours on end and still nothing. I always end up messing it up. So I kind of hate large crowds or auditoriums and baby grand pianos.”

“That was like five things.” Gabe pointed out.

“Hey!”

He patted my leg. “I’m kidding, Saylor.”

That hand may as well have burned a hole through my jeans. I could feel him all the way down to my toes.

As if noticing the effect he’d suddenly had on me, he jerked back and cleared his throat. “So, performance anxiety. I think I can help with that.”

“I’ve pictured them naked. Doesn’t help,” I muttered lamely.

“Clearly you’re not picturing the right naked people.”

“Gabe, I could picture you naked and I’d still freak.”

The easy smile froze on his face. Wrong thing to say. Why did I have to be such an idiot?

And then the mask fell again and he shrugged. “Honey, if you saw me naked it wouldn’t be fear causing you to mess up the notes, trust me.”

“Cocky.”

“Absolutely,” he said quickly. “Although according to some, I’ve let myself go.”

“Let it go. Will I ever live that down now?”

“Probably not.” He chuckled as we pulled into the freshman dorms parking lot. “But seriously.” He turned off the car. “Let me help.”

I sighed. “Gabe, look… tonight was fun, right?”

“Yeah.” His brows knit together as if confused. “Of course it was.”

“And I really had fun with you.” I chewed my lower lip. “But last time we were in a practice room together, things got ugly. You were—”

“—not myself,” he inserted smoothly. “And I was pissed — not at you, just life. Wrong place, wrong time…”

“Twice in a row?”

He winced. “Afraid so.”

Logic told me to say no. Let it end here. Draw a line in the sand, so that we both knew where we stood. We were barely friends, and I would already be seeing him on a weekly basis because of the whole volunteer thing.

“Saylor…” His eyes pleaded with me. “Let me make it up to you.”

“I don’t know.”

“At least let me make up for five of them.”

“Five?” I shook my head. “Five what?”

“Tears.” He swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he leaned in and brushed his thumb across my lips. “Let me make up for five of them. I know there were a hell of a lot more. All I’m asking for is five.”

“And then…”

“Give me the five tears… the five chances…” He sighed. Warmth radiated from him. “And then I’ll leave you alone.”

I looked at his lips then back at his eyes. “Okay. Five.” I reached for the handle to get out of the car, but he grabbed my other hand holding me in my spot.

“And just in case it wasn’t clear…” he whispered, his eyes taking on that dark hue I craved. “You really are.”

“Are what?”

“Downright. Beautiful. And I’m sorry.” He released my hand. Slowly, I inched out of the car and walked in a daze back to my dorm room.

I was half-tempted to bang my head against the brick wall too. Was tonight a dream? It sure felt like it, because the impossible had just happened.

Gabe had flown down to the pits of hell, bargained for his soul back, won, and returned to make amends.

Huh. Apparently miracles did happen.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I was whistling. Dear God save us all from such a fate. When grown men whistle you know something’s up. Yet, I couldn’t find it in me to stop… whistling or smiling. And for the first time in years when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t wince. I… smiled. —Gabe H.

Gabe

“Either you fell off the wagon or you got some.” Wes’s voice said behind me. I jumped and nearly face planted against the mirror in the bathroom. It had been a week since my di

“Do you knock?”

“No.” He made himself comfortable against the wall and smirked. “Not since my best friend started acting like a total lunatic… I feel like a damn babysitter. Don’t make me get you a bodyguard.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Then again you know all about that headache.” He whistled and examined his nails.

“Wes…” I groaned and stared at him through the reflection in the mirror. “I’m not high, I didn’t have sex. I’m just… feeling better.”

His chest puffed up as a cocky grin appeared across his face, “Would this have anything to do with a certain individual whose name starts with an S?”

“Oh, look at the time. You need to go. I have to get dressed, and for the last time, no, you may not see me naked.”

“Hurts, dude.” He thumped his own chest. “Right here.”

“Play fair.” I narrowed my eyes.

“Sharp pain.” He winced.

“Son of a bitch. You’re a pain in my ass.”

“So?” He gri

“What? Your heart feel all better now?”

“Oohhh.” He bent over a bit.

“Yes. Okay? Happy?”

“Healed.” He jumped to his feet. “Oh, and thanks for being honest with me after I begged you for five minutes.”

“Three minutes.”

“I’ll give you four.”

“Wes?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not ready. Not now. To tell you everything, but… my dad, did he — did he say anything?”

Wes sighed heavily, all traces of amusement gone. “No, he was looking for you under your real name. The one on your license.”

I felt cold all over. With a shudder I exhaled.

“Should I be worried about our safety?”

“No.” I ground my teeth together. “He’s just… desperate, but it will blow over. This isn’t the first time he’s come up here looking for me, and every single time he goes back home with his tail between his legs. I’m careful. I won’t let him find me. Plus, he would hardly recognize me now.”

Wes stared at me for a few seconds before saying, “Do you even recognize you?”

“No.” My laugh was hollow. “Not really.”

“Thought so.”

“I’m meeting her, you know. In a bit.”

“The girl you said was ugly who you actually find really pretty and then treated like shit in front of everyone? That girl?”

“Yeahhhh.”

“Good luck with that.” Wes smirked and made his way toward the door. I was begi

“Hey, Wes?”

“Hmm?” He paused in the doorway.

“Thanks.”

“For?” He actually looked confused.

“Making sure I was okay.”

His face relaxed. “Sure, Gabe. Anytime.”

****

“You ready for this?” I cracked my neck, then my knuckles.

Saylor yawned. “Yeah, and that’s really bad for you by the way.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

She glared.

“I may have multiple personalities but you’re freakishly bossy.”

“I knew this wouldn’t work.” She slumped a bit.

“Sorry,” I grumbled and placed my hands on the keys of the piano. “Swear, we can do this. Music just makes me edgy.”

“Why?” It was an i

“But—” I patted the piano seat next to me. “—you can play. You just don’t know how to breathe.”

“Huh?” She inhaled then exhaled as if to show me she knew exactly how to keep living.

Good, at least I’d changed the subject.

“Watch.” I started playing, confident that nobody would barge in on us because, well, the barger was in the room already, and I’d pulled all blinds and locked the doors. Good thing she actually trusted me… a little. Thank God for fish.

I started slowly, my hands moving effortlessly across the piano. It was perfect, but I wasn’t into it. I couldn’t care less about the song. I tried to focus on something boring like dirt.