Page 4 of Unlocked Dive
“Seriously?”
“Just remember you already said yes.”
“Reggie.” I’m so close. I can smell the fog-drowned forest.
“His name is Jericho Wash. He’s Gabriel’s little brother.”
3
Coen
12 Years Earlier
“Gabriel Wash.”
“What?” I turn my head to look at Reggie without unfolding from my half-assed seated pike. Unlike me, my friend is actually stretching in preparation for our morning class.
“The freshman you’ve been staring at for the last half hour? His name’s Gabriel Wash. From California.”
“Like a movie star.” It slips out, and I duck my head, knowing she’ll never let it pass.
“Oh my god, Coen. You’re adorable since you discovered guys.”
“Fuck off. I did not ‘discover’ guys.” I give her a sideways grin. “Turns out they were always there.”
“Yeah, but you never blushed like this when you were only ogling girls.” She pokes me in the ribs, and I twitch away, swatting at her hand.
“Maybe because they weren’t fromCalifornia.” I match her teasing tone, but my eyes drift back to the new boy. He doesn’t really look like my imagination’s blond, blue-eyed vision of a Hollywood star. He’s small and slender, with dark eyes and darker ringlets brushing his delicate cheekbones. But in a plain white T-shirt and black joggers that hug the curve of his ass, he still manages to look exotic with one arm wrapped in the scarlet silks across the gym.
“You do know that not everyone from California is a movie star?” Reggie laughs. “It’s a big state with a lot of other cities besides Los Angeles.”
“So which one’s he from, then?” I don’t bother to hide my curiosity. Reggie and I have been inseparable since she bounced up to me on the first day of school and made me her official guide to all things Tilburg.
“Los Angeles.” She manages to keep a straight face when I give her a reproachful look, but her brown eyes sparkle with amusement.
After two years, I still don’t know how Reggie manages to know everyone and everything that’s happening at NCC the minute it develops, but she always does. She claims it’s because she’s observant and a good internet stalker, but I give more credit to the brilliant brain hiding under her wild mop of sun-brown curls. I’m half-convinced she’ll be running the school someday, even if she is an American. I didn’t even know there was a state called Iowa before I met Reggie, but apparently, it turns out frenetic geniuses with perfect handstands and unruly mouths.
Heisfrom LA, of course, and he laughs, quick and sharp, when Reggie tells him I compared him to a movie star. It delights him, and the sound makes my skin warm and skittish.
His eyes are a deep, cryptic blue, giving nothing away, but he angles the lithe line of his shoulders toward me when he talks, and my fingers itch to explore the pale shadows where his throat disappears into the collar of his T-shirt. Even though I tower over him, the minute I see him up close, I stop thinking of him as aboy; he radiates all the languid confidence of a man in every studied movement.
Reggie carries the conversation, amusement plain in her arched brows and the twitching corners of her busy mouth. But Gabriel’s eyes stay glued to me, flashing every time I look away and dropping to my mouth whenever I’m brave enough to open it.
For all my sideways longing and bold talk in the safety of Reggie’s room, I’ve never actually flirted with another guy, and although I’m fairly certain this one is a dangerous place to start, I’m already falling into his orbit.
I am, of course, not the only one drawn to the darkling diva that is Gabriel Wash. He dominates the first-year class, holding court like a Delphic raven among songbirds. My gaze follows jealously when he’s charming, and every wicked arc of his quick temper heats my captive blood until I’m brazen with need.
Reggie begins to lose patience with my obsession, less impressed with the quicksilver shift of Gabriel’s moods.
“He’s fascinating,” I tell her, watching him bite his lower lip in concentration during an acro demonstration by a guest instructor.
“He’s demanding,” she replies, shaking her head.
“He’s so confident,” I sigh, staring at the way he tips his head back to laugh while lounging against the wall of the pub.
“He’s arrogant,” she says, turning back to the bar to call for another pint.
“He’s beautiful,” I groan, burying my face in one of her pillows while she scrolls Netflix on her laptop for something new to watch.
