Breaking Hollywood(24)

I'm going to have to walk through the living room.

I take a deep breath. Holding my head up high, I quickly start walking through the living room.

The music is playing. A couple of women are dancing together.

I don't want to seek Gabe out, but my eyes do.

And they immediately lock with his.

He's sitting on the sofa with that blonde plastered up against his side. She's leaning in close, speaking in his ear.

Jealousy explodes in my chest, spreading the agony out to fill my whole  body. Breathing through the hurt, I force my feet to move faster, so I'm  almost breaking into a jog.

When I reach the elevator, I jab the button a few times. "Come on, come  on," I mutter, tapping my foot, desperate for it to hurry up and arrive.

It pings its arrival, and I step inside the safety of the elevator.

"Ava."

My eyes find Gabe hobbling toward the elevator.

I jab the button for the ground floor. I don't want to talk to him, no  matter how childish that might be. I just want to get away from him  right now.

"Where are you going?" he says, his voice demanding.

But the doors close on his words, and the lift starts to descend.         

     



 

I exhale and hug Gucci tight to my chest, burying my face into her soft fur.

When I reach the ground floor, the lobby is empty. The security guard must have just stepped away from his desk.

I walk out of the lobby, heading for the back of the building, and out into the communal garden.

Once outside, I put Gucci down on the grass, and I go take a seat on one of the benches.

I get my phone out and bring up Candy Crush to play while I wait for her  to do her business. I'm not exactly in any rush to go back upstairs.

But something makes me change my mind, and I shut Candy Crush down and open up Google.

Then, I type in Gabe's name in the Search bar and hit Enter.

The screen fills with links and stories. I go to Recent News.

At the top is Radar Online. Always the first with a story.

I click on the link, and the headline says something about Gabe appearing to have a broken leg.

Broken foot, dipshits.

They need to do better with their so-called journalism. And then it goes on to say how he's been hitting up the bars all day.

So much for his meetings.

There are pictures of him from earlier. In one picture, he's in a booth  with a bunch of people I don't recognize, and next to him is a pretty  brunette, his arm around her.

Someone's been busy tonight.

Fury rains down on me.

I just can't believe him! The fucking asshole!

He was out partying with other women while I was feeling crappy all day,  sitting and worrying about him when he hadn't come home, thinking  something had happened to him.

Going out and getting drunk isn't the smartest thing to do when you've got a broken foot, but obviously, he doesn't care.

So, why the hell should I?

Because you have feelings for him.

Ugh! I hate that I like him. The big fucking jerk.

It's clear that he doesn't give two shits about me. He's up there with another woman, doing God knows what with her right now.

The thought of him with her makes me feel physically sick.

At least I know he won't be having sex with her because of his foot. That's the reason he wouldn't sleep with me.

Or maybe he was just saying that. Maybe he just doesn't want you, my insecurities scream at me.

This morning, he acted like last night never happened, and then he went  out partying and brought people back to his apartment. And he's  currently cozied up on the sofa with that blonde.

So, yeah, clearly, it's me he doesn't want.

Well, fine.

But, when I do go back up there, if he's in his bedroom with that woman, then I'm going.

I'll pack my stuff and leave tonight. Because there is no way that I'm  sleeping in that apartment while he fucks someone else in his bedroom.

He might not care about me, but I do have feelings for him, and I'm not putting myself through that.

I shove my cell in my pocket and look over at Gucci. She's running around, jumping in and out of the bushes, looking happy.

Well, at least one of us is happy.

I let out a long, sad sigh and stare up at the sky, trying not to think  about what's going on up in Gabe's apartment right at this moment. Or  what he might be doing with the blonde. If he's touching her like he  touched me last night.

Instead, I force myself to think about what I'm going to do tomorrow when I'm once again homeless and jobless.





Gabe


I'm an asshole.

A complete and utter fucking asshole.

I've hurt Speedy. The one person who didn't deserve to be hurt by me.  The one person I didn't want to hurt, but I went and did it anyway. And I  did it fucking spectacularly.

I saw the hurt in her eyes, and I put it there. It almost brought me to my knees.

I could barely look at her this morning, knowing I was going to hurt her.

And I know she thinks I've been fooling around with that blonde tonight, but I haven't.

I couldn't even if I wanted to. And I don't.

I just want Speedy.

She's been on my mind all day. I can't think of anything but her. How  she tasted. How she looked in my bed. How she felt against me.

Knowing all these things makes me want her so much more.

I had to get out of the apartment today. I couldn't be around her. So, I lied and said I had meetings.

I didn't.

I called up some drinking buddies, and I was out all day.

But I knew I had to come home at some point, but being here, alone with  her, just wasn't an option. I knew what would happen the second I saw  her.

I wouldn't be able to stop myself.

So, I invited everyone back here. And I acted like the fucking bastard that I am.

But, now, she's gone, and I don't know where she is.

I'm worried. It's late. I don't want her and Gucci out alone.

I tried calling her, and it went to voice mail. I texted her, asking her to come back home, but she's ignored it.         

     



 

Guess this is a taste of my own medicine for ignoring her text earlier and making her worry.

I cleared the apartment of everyone right after she left.

I want to go look for her, but I'm stuck because of my goddamn foot. I can't fucking drive.

And her car keys are still here on the coffee table, and so are mine, so she's out there, walking around.

I'm going to call the driver back and have him drive me around until I find her.

I've just pressed call on his number when I hear the elevator ping its arrival.

I hang up the phone and move toward the elevator.

She comes in with Gucci in her arms. Her eyes look red, like she's been crying.

You did that, asshole.

"Where have you been?" My words come out sharper than intended.

She puts Gucci down and walks past me without a word.

"Ava, I asked, where the fuck have you been?"

She whirls around, her eyes narrowed. "What business is it of yours?"

"You live in my place. That makes it my business."

She laughs. "Fuck off, Gabriel. I was going to go in the morning, but screw this shit. I'm going now."

An emotion I don't recognize grips my chest.

"Don't be fucking stupid."

"You're stupid! And a gigantic asshole! And I'm out of here." She moves quickly through the apartment.

I'm not as fast as she is because of this damn boot, but I catch up to  her in the hallway. I grab hold of her wrist, and she whirls around on  me. Her eyes are wide and fired up, her cheeks flushed.

She's never looked hotter than she does in this moment.

"What are you doing?"

I don't answer. I push her up against the wall and kiss her. Hard.

She doesn't resist me either. She opens up for me straightaway, kissing me back just as forcefully as I'm kissing her.

It's hungry and wet and deep and easily the hottest fucking kiss I've ever had.

She's sexy as hell. I can't get enough of her.

Then, without warning, her hands that were caressing my chest a second ago are now pushing me away.

She stares at me, breathing heavily, her lips swollen from our bruising  kiss. "You don't just get to kiss me and hold me all night and then  treat me like garbage the next day and bring other women home and do God  knows what with them and then kiss me when they're gone, Gabriel! It  doesn't work that way!"

"You're right. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I acted like a complete  asshole this morning and tonight." I take her face in my hands, unable  to not touch her. "But, I swear to you, the only woman I've touched  today is you. The only woman I've touched in weeks is you."

Her anger seems to calm a bit with my admission, but she's still pissed off, and she has a right to be.

"Why were you an asshole today?" Her tone is filled with annoyance, but  there's a vulnerability there, too, that makes my chest ache.

I sigh, lowering my eyes for a moment before looking back at her. "I  just … I have a rule. I never sleep with people I work with or who work  for me. And I'd never broken that rule until last night."

"Oh."

"It's not an excuse, but it threw me for a loop that a rule I'd worked  to follow for a long time, I broke so easily with you. It made me  realize just how deeply you were under my skin. I didn't feel in  control. And, when I don't feel in control, I'm an asshole."

Warmth fills her eyes. "You're forgiven." Her words are soft, but they  lift the weight I was carrying around all day off my shoulders.

"So … you broke your rule for me." She bites her lower lip.