Page 9 of A Kiss on a Dare
Cat nods, leaning into my support as I guide her toward the exit. As we pass the buffet, I spot Gabrielle picking up two gin and tonics. For a brief second, I wonder if one of them is meant for me.
As we walk past him, Gabrielle catches my gaze. His eyes flick quickly to Cat and then back to me, and I lean toward him to speak over the music. “I’ll take her home,” I say, my voice loud as I gesture to Cat.
Gabrielle nods, leaning closer in response, his voice soft but clear. “Do you need help?” His lips are so close to my ear that the almost-brush of them sends a shiver down my spine. God, his scent—clean, warm, intoxicating—is enough to make my head spin.
“No,” I reply firmly, raising my voice to cut through the noise. “We’ll take a cab.”
But Gabrielle moves quickly, putting the gin and tonics down on the table. “I’ll help you,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
As the three of us exit the basement and take the elevator up, I force myself not to overthink what’s happening. Gabrielle actually helping me feels incredible, and for once, I decide to let myself feel good about the fantasy in my head. I even push aside the thought that he might only be doing this for Cat. Tonight, I’m claiming this small victory.
“I have a car,” Gabrielle says as we ascend in the elevator, “and I feel pretty sober. But to be honest, I don’t trust those shots 100%. I don’t know what was in them, but they tasted kinda funny.”
I laugh, glancing at Cat, who is practically asleep on my shoulder. “Yeah, Cat can usually drink a lot, but those shots knocked her out.”
Ten minutes later, we’re leaving the hospital and sliding into a taxi cab. We decided to leave our coats in the changing rooms upstairs since Cat actually fell asleep on the way out. It’s inconvenient, but it also means Gabrielle and I will need to head back to the hospital afterward to pick our things up for tomorrow. I make a mental note to grab Cat’s coat and bag and bring them to her in the morning.
As Cat and I slump into the backseat and Gabrielle takes the front seat by the driver, the car pulls away into the snowy night. The streets are buried under a fresh blanket of snow, and flakes are still falling, making the city look like a fairytale.
Despite the beauty, the cold creeps in. Sitting here in just my shirt, I suddenly feel like an idiot for leaving without my coat.When you’re 30 years old, you should know better than this.
It takes us five minutes to reach Cat’s apartment building. We help her into the elevator and up to her fourth-floor apartment. I fumble with her key—one of the spares she gave me—and push the door open while Gabrielle waits outside, politely giving us space.
Once inside, I carefully slip off Cat’s hospital shoes, walk her into her bedroom, and put her into bed. She murmurs something incoherent before rolling over, and I quietly leave, closing the doors behind me.
Gabrielle is standing right outside, patiently waiting. There’s something about the way he watches me lock the door, his gaze curious and unhurried, like I’m doing something worth admiring—painting, maybe, or singing. It could be my overactive imagination, but the instant we’re alone, the air between us shifts.
The tension is almost tangible, stretching between us like a taut wire. I feel it in my chest, in my throat, and in the way my skin seems to buzz under his gaze.
“Ready?” Gabrielle says, his voice low and suddenly husky.
I turn around, startled, and almost bump into him. His nearness makes me shudder, and I can swear I feel the heat of his body, the pull of him as if some magnetic force is drawing me in.
God, I really, really want him.
“Yeah,” I say, and as we walk toward the elevator in the narrow hallway, our shoulders brush. The contact sends a jolt through me, and suddenly my mind spirals, filling with vivid, borderline-pornographic images—pushing him against the wall, kissing him hard, and then taking an Uber to my place where we’d fuck like rabbits until morning.
“Ray?” Gabrielle’s voice snaps me out of my fantasy, and I blink up at him, startled.
“Huh?” I say, disoriented. It’s only then that I realize we’re standing by the open elevator, Gabrielle nodding toward it, waiting for me to step in. I quickly move into the cabin, and he follows.
Was it always this tiny? When the three of us were inside earlier, it didn’t feel this cramped. But now, with just the two of us, it’s suffocating in the best worst way. We’re standing so close, our chests nearly touching. My eyes flick to Gabrielle’s collarbone, peeking from the open collar of his button-down, and I try—desperately—to avoid ogling his broad chest and bulging muscles. God, I am too fucking horny for this, and the proximity is killing me.
I feel drunk, but not from the alcohol. No, this is all him—his body, his scent, his ridiculous everything that’s making my head spin.
“Should we go back to the party?” Gabrielle asks. The way he looks down at me sets my pulse racing, and there’s something in the way he asks that makes my mind whirl.
Is he really just suggesting the party? Or is there something else in his voice—like we could skip it altogether and end up at his place…or mine?
I suddenly feel a surge of boldness as I look up at Gabrielle and say, “Can you take me home?”
In that moment, it feels like I’ve stepped outside myself, watching as though I’m the main character in some Christmas rom-com. Gabrielle’s eyes meet mine, and I can see him thinking, processing what I just said. His gaze flicks down to my lips for the briefest second, and my heart leaps.
He’s going to kiss me.
But before anything can happen, the doors behind him slam open with a loud bang, shattering the fragile moment between us.
Gabrielle quickly says, “Sure,” his voice steady, then turns away and walks out of the elevator.
