Page 70 of Michael's Awakening
“Oh, hey, man.” Zack bounced on his heels. “Is Gabe awake yet?”
I shook my head. “No, he partied a little too hard last night and is still asleep. Is everything alright? I could wake him, if it’s something important.” I opened the door wider and froze when I saw the expression on Zack’s face when he looked at me.
Fuck.I’d gotten so accustomed to Gabriel seeing me shirtless that I hadn’t even considered my scars before I had opened the door.
“Woah, what the hell happened to you?” Zack asked and then shook his head. “Sorry, man. I don’t mean to be rude. Just… damn.”
With a tight-lipped smile, I motioned for him to come inside. “I’m making a pot of coffee. Come in and have a cup. Gabriel should be up soon.”
“Oh, okay. Cool. Thanks.” Zack walked inside and I closed the door behind him.
“Please excuse me a moment,” I said and took off to the bedroom to find a shirt.
Gabriel was sprawled out on the bed, his tan skin exposed and delicious. I fought back the urge to crawl back into bed with him and devour his luscious ass. Walking over to him, I pulled the blanket up around him and tucked him in before leaning down to kiss his cheek.
Sighing, he cradled his pillow against him at my touch, causing that love-sick feeling to stir inside my chest.
Looking around, I found my shirt discarded on the floor and grabbed it to slip it on before walking back out there to Zack.
He had his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around Gabriel’s living room. Hearing me enter the room, he looked my way and gave a small grin.
“Gabe sure knows how to decorate, huh?” Zack said, apparently trying to deter the topic from the horrendous scars he had seen on me.
“The man lives for cheetah print and the color purple.” I shook my head with a tight smile. Walking over to the coffee pot, I got two cups from the cabinet and poured us each a cup. “Do you take cream in yours?”
“Nope. I drink it black,” he answered and walked to sit on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table.
Walking to where he sat, I gave him his cup before taking a seat on the small loveseat beside the couch.
“Thanks, man.” Zack raised his cup and took a drink.
“No problem.” I shifted in my seat and took a drink of my own cup, loving the way the hot liquid felt as it moved down my throat.
“No fucking way.” Zack straightened up in his seat as he looked at a framed picture hanging on the wall. “Is that seriously real?”
Following his gaze, I saw what he was looking at and smiled. For Gabriel’s birthday, I had pulled some strings and got him Sarah Jessica Parker’s autograph on a picture of her as her character, Carrie Bradshaw, fromSex and the City.
“Yes, it’s real.” I nodded. “I thought Gabriel was going to have a heart attack when he opened it yesterday.” I chuckled at the memory. “It’s even personalized to him.”
“Fuck, that’s awesome. And I thought the purse and sunglasses I had bought him was a cool gift. Nope, not compared to that.” Zack shook his head with a short laugh.
Smiling, I responded, “I think just the image of you purse shopping was gift enough for him.”
Zack barked out a laugh and settled back down into the couch cushion. “Yeah, I got some funny looks. But whatever, fuck ‘em.”
Something about the way his cheeks flushed when he said it told me differently though.
Feeling Zack’s stare on me, I looked at him. He looked away. “Zack, things don’t have to be awkward between us. There are things about me, about my past, which I’ve only discussed with two people, Gabriel being one of them.” His hazel eyes flickered to mine again and I continued, “Your brother has really helped change my outlook on life and talking to people isn’t as hard as it once was. So as much as it’s weird for me to talk to someone about it, you can say what’s on your mind.”
“So, the scars,” Zack said hesitantly. “What the hell happened?”
“I didn’t have a good childhood, let’s just say that,” I answered. I didn’t want to give a detailed account to Zack of what had happened to me, but since he had already seen my scars, I knew I owed some sort of explanation. “My mother had… issues. And she took it all out on me.”
“Fuck, man.” Zack ran a hand through his short dark-blond hair. “I’m sorry to hear that. How are you so normal, then? I mean, aren’t people who suffered abuse supposed to be social recluses and have major psychotic problems?”
“I’ve had many years to learn to cope with it. I wasn’t always sonormal. If that’s even the right word to use.” After answering him, I took a sip of my coffee. “The abuse ended when I was eleven, and after that, my teenage years were consumed with anger. I was mad at the world and everyone in it. Instead of talking to people, I buried my nose in books and focused on my studies so that I could someday get a great job and get the hell out of that town. Eventually, I knew I needed to talk to someone about the abuse and the intense surges of anger I experienced. That’s when I started seeing my psychologist.”
“You see a shrink?” Zack asked. “Well, damn. I guess you’d need to after all of that. Do you still see them?”
