Page 9 of Sizzle

A sound to my left has me focusing in the dark.

“Come on, you piece … of … crap.” Someone grunts, and a grinding noise follows.

“Hey, what …” I trail off on my offer of help as soon as I see who it is.

The exception to every rule and the only one I can’t have.

Gabrielle is halfway down the walk of her grandmother’s former bookshop, attempting to roll a dolly cart full of boxes. Clearly, it isn’t going well, and it looks as if the load is heavy. Because I’m a moron with masochistic tendencies, I storm over and shove my way in, letting my shoulder bear the brunt of it.

“Have you not learned your lesson from the other day? If you can’t carry something, call someone else to do it or get the proper tools.” Perfect, now I’m just scolding her right off the bat.

With a surprised huff, she tips her face up to look at who just intercepted her near fall, then almost gasps when she sees it’s me.

“You can’t be serious,” she mutters, then looks skyward. “Are you purposely fucking with me?”

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her curse, and goddamn, if it doesn’t have my balls tightening. I’m a sad bastard, getting turned on by a woman who doesn’t want me in a situation where she’d take anyone’s help but mine.

“Need more help?” I ask, trying not to smirk.

This isn’t funny, not from either of our points of view, but there is some humor in the fact that the universe seems keen to drag us together.

“No, I’ve got it.”

“Those books are about to either land all over the sidewalk, break your ankle, or get torn apart from the way you’re jostling them. Let me help.”

My mother taught me better than to leave someone in a bind, and it’s not like I’d ever walk by this woman and not stop to assist her.

“I’m fine, really.” She tugs on the dolly, and it doesn’t budge an inch. “I just have to …”

I see it the moment it’s going to happen. She loses her footing on the step she just put a foot backward onto and is going down with the books aiming straight for her body.

Lightning fast, I’m behind her, gripping her waist as I steady both her and the boxes on the dolly, pulling both close. Her back is pressed to my front as I sandwich her between myself and the books.

Suddenly, I’m all too aware that her entire ass is pushed against my crotch, the fabric of our clothing clinging to one another. Gabrielle seems to be holding her breath, and I reach in front of her to give the dolly a good shove. It cements itself upright and steady, not at Gabrielle’s intended target of the bottom of the porch, but secure, nonetheless.

We stay stuck together like that for another beat, and my body goes cold the second she disconnects us.

“Thanks.” Her voice is quiet, and she won’t turn around as she checks the books inside to make sure they’re okay.

“Why won’t you look at me?” It might be the two beers or the thoughts that have been plaguing my mind since I last saw her, but I can’t hold it in.

“Liam, not this again.” She sighs, sounding exhausted.

“Again? We’ve never spoken about it, Gabrielle. I think there should be some sort of discussion, no?” I don’t know why I’m pressing this.

No, I do know why. I want to rattle her, make her react. I’m sick of avoidance and indifference.

“I’ve been working all day to empty this shop, to get it done quickly so I can sell this place and get out of town. So that you no longer have to growl in my direction and I don’t have to wonder?—”

She stops herself, slapping a hand over her mouth like she never meant to give away that much information.

Internally, I fist pump like I’ve just won something because knowing she might wonder about me and us is a victory in itself.

“You don’t have to wonder what? If we could have been good together? If we could have been everything? If you had just given this thing a chance, that it wouldn’t have had to be this forbidden, awful thing but a connection that was better than any you’ve had in your life?”

Because that’s what I wonder about all the time. And for a guy who hates talking and having conversations, I’m just going for it. I’m fucking tired of this, and the dark and the beer are making me braver.

“You were a student, Liam. A boy whose brain hadn’t fully developed. A person I had explicit laws and rules to follow when it came to our interactions. It was best for both of us that I left?—”