Page 3 of One Room Vacancy
“It’s the south; it’s supposed to be a little corny.”
The bartender places the checks in front of us, silently indicating that they closed twenty minutes ago. It is a not-so-subtle hint for us to finish up and leave, and without missing a beat, Gabe grabs both receipts and sets his card on top of them.
Once the bartender retrieves his card, Gabe shifts in his seat and positions his body to face me, his hand resting on my knee. “Thank you for coming down tonight. It means a lot.”
“Of course. Who better to distract you, right?”
He pauses, unmoving, as his gaze locks on mine, a serious expression plaguing his brow. “It’s not like that.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Then what is it like?”
“I like spending time with you, distraction or not.”
“Then why do you only call or text when you and Kara break up?”
As soon as I ask, I see it—tension rolling through his shoulders, tightening his posture beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt. The bartender returns with his card, receipt, and pen, and he doesn’t say a word until she walks away. Then he exhales, slow and heavy, like the weight of the moment just caught up with him.
He signs the merchant copy, and I don’t miss the slight tremble in his hand.
“I’m sorry I’ve been doing that,” he says quietly. “I never meant to. It’s just—” His voice fades, eyes fixed on the bar like he’s somewhere else entirely. Somewhere he doesn’t want to be.
“Kara didn’t trust me.”
Gabe hesitates with the pen hovering over the scrap of receipt paper. “It was never about trusting you.”
My brows nearly hit my hairline at his implication. “So she just didn’t trust you…with me?”
He nods.
“Why?” I ask, knowing why but wanting him to say it. This song and dance we do, this falling together whenever he’s sure they’re over… It’s exhausting, but more than anything I want him to acknowledge it. I’m not crazy—I know there is something here, so why does it always get avoided when I want him to verbalize it?
“She…could tell, I guess?” His shoulders hunch forward as he scrunches them in frustration.
“Tell what?”
He doesn’t mince his words, doesn’t resist the urge to blurt them out; rather, he speaks matter-of-factly. “That I’m into you.”
“You are?!” I gasp, feigning shock at his admission.
He grins and teasingly pinches my side before standing up and leading us toward the exit of the bar and into the hotel lobby.
And that’s when the unspoken question hangs heavy in the space between us. He doesn’t say it—doesn’t have to. With our history, it’s always there, humming beneath the surface. But the way he shifts on the balls of his feet, like he’s already halfway gone, tells me everything I need to know.
He’s not going to ask me to come with him.
Maybe this is who we’ve always been meant to be. Friends. Confidants. Orbiting each other with just enough gravity to stay close, but never enough to collide. And yet, he’s still the only person I’ve ever wantedmorewith.
“I should get to bed,” he says finally. “Haven’t even really been up to my room yet. Just dropped my bag and came down here.”
He steps in without waiting for permission, tilts his head down, and presses a soft kiss to my crown. It’s gentle. Final. A silent promise to stay right where we are.
Then he steps back with a sigh and that familiar, bittersweet smile.
“Good night, Sage.”
“Good night, Gabe.” I try to hide my disappointment, but it’s obvious in my voice. Despite this, I swivel on my heel and begin to walk in the opposite direction toward the elevator.
“Hey, Sage?” The man who is typically eerily confident with me sounds far more defeated than I’ve ever heard him, making me think that maybe, just maybe, he and Kara are really over this time.
