Rachel Dyken - Toxic

“No idea what you’re talking about.” I lifted my napkin to my forehead and patted. I was officially sweating. It was like we were on Law and Order and I was on the bad side of the metal desk. Sitting in a metal chair. Balls to the metal. Wincing.

“One minute you’re charming anything with a pulse, the next minute you look so angry you want to set me on fire, and then all of a sudden it’s like you snap out of it.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I’m mentally unstable.”

Saylor pointed the knife towards me, an unapologetic look on her face.

“Hell, put the knife down, I was kidding.”

Our waiter arrived. “Would you two like to hear the specials?”

“Fish.” I watched Saylor’s expression with interest. She had a facial expression for everything. It was…distracting. “What’s the fish of the day?”

“We have a lovely salmon that’s—”

“Good.” I handed over the menus. “Two of those, and can you bring some bread and sparkling water?”

“Sure. Salads?”

“Caesar,” Saylor and I said in unison

The waiter gave me a firm smile then, thankfully, left us in peace.

“He’s so going to spit in our food,” Saylor groaned.

“I’ve come to this restaurant for four years straight.”

“Er…” Saylor nodded slowly. “Awesome. Good for you. Are you saying this is your booth? Or that you’re on a first name basis with the staff?”

“Nobody. Not even Wes, orders a Caesar salad.”

“So that was a test?” She squinted her cute little eyebrows together. Why did everything about her tempt me?

I laughed. “Um no, but after the Caesar salad you’re going to be breathing fire for days. It’s basically the only way to make sure you don’t get kissed. Wes calls the salad the kiss of death.”

“That’s not funny,” she grumbled.

“Thank you!” I slammed the table with my hand. “I say no to death jokes. Bastard.”

At that she grinned. “Well, all death jokes aside, I’m not worried about the kiss-of-death salad.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Sure.” She took a long sip of water and paused to answer, “Because I’m in no danger of getting kissed tonight.”

Waving a flag in front of a bull. That was what she as doing, and she had no freaking idea that she’d just opened the gate. “Oh yeah? Says who?”

“Me.” Saylor laughed. “You got the salad too, buddy. No way am I getting near that mouth of yours.”

Her laugh was infectious. I joined with her, then clinked my water glass against hers. “To the kiss of death and fish.”

She grinned. “To fish.”

Getting comfortable with someone like Gabe was risky — especially considering our shaky start. But he was impossible to resist — especially when he was himself — something I noticed he hadn’t been a lot lately. —Saylor

Saylor

“Tell me one scary thing,” Gabe asked once we were in the car driving back toward campus. He’d called Wes to tell him that we’d gone out to dinner, and Lisa and Kiersten were more than happy to go pick up my car for me so he could take me home. I wasn’t sure if that was the girls playing matchmaker or just being nice.

“Oooh, only one?” I teased.

We’d spent three hours at the restaurant — and he’d actually behaved. Had it been Christmas, it would have been a Christmas miracle, like something you’d actually watch on TV. We didn’t fight, the insulting turned to teasing, and honestly it felt good.

Everything except the fact that the more Gabe showed me of himself—

The more I liked him.

I was more comfortable hating him.

“Only one.” He turned briefly toward me and flashed a gorgeous grin. A totally, mind-numbing, rock star grin. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe he just had one of those faces, or maybe he was just that gorgeous that my mind was playing tricks on me.

“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.

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 dinner with Saylor and things felt… normal. For once in a really long time, I looked in the mirror and I wasn’t met with a scowl, but a freaking smile.

“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 grinned.

“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 beginning to regret the fact that I said he could come into my dorm any time he wanted, especially now, considering he was all up in my business. Then again, he was worried and I’d made him that way.

“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 innocent question. “I mean, you’re incredible. You can play guitar, the piano, sing — you’re a triple threat. I can barely hum.”

“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.

Which was really saying something, considering I was already starting to respond to the scent of honey and the way her warmth enveloped me.

“Now,” I said, picking up speed. “Note the difference.”

Same song. Different type of playing. I let every note flow from my fingers all the way through my body like my soul and the music were one.

When I was done, I opened my eyes.

To see Saylor crying.

“Shit.” Yeah, because saying shit immediately made girls stop crying. Brilliant move. “Are you okay?”