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isloveworthdyingfor · 6 months

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A Gamble of Hearts

(Esther Nicholette Sullivan) The lobby of my office transformed into a mini-casino floor, complete with dimmed lights that flickered like distant stars. The air hummed with the soft whirring of a makeshift roulette wheel. With each breath, a heady blend of adrenaline and opulent fragrances swirled around me, creating an intoxicating ambiance that hinted at secrets far more profound than mere games of chance.

My chest brimmed with bubbling excitement. Tonight, marked Gabriel’s anticipated appearance at the event. Since his positive response, butterflies have made a permanent home in my stomach. Stepping away from my usual gym attire, I embarked on my own gamble – not with cards but with my appearance, hoping to make an impression.

Though we’d shared coffee and lunch dates before, they were mostly business-oriented encounters flavored by the bitterness of our past separations. My work outfits had never been fashion statements, either. So, tonight was different; I went all out. Draped in a sapphire blue gown that whispered against my skin like a dark, kept secret, it cascaded elegantly to the floor.

I milled around the blackjack tables, laughter spilling from my lips with practiced ease as I mingled with colleagues and clients. But each time the door opened with a soft whoosh, my gaze darted toward it, searching for the familiar frame that would send my heart racing even faster than the riskiest bet.

I found myself drifting closer to the entrance as if proximity might conjure him forth from the throng of strangers.

Suddenly, a light tap on my shoulder jolted me from my reverie. I turned to find Emily’s eyes gleaming with mischief, her voice barely above a whisper yet brimming with excitement. “Looks like your knight in shining armor has arrived,” she said, her gaze darting toward the entrance.

A surge of adrenaline washed over me. I clutched at my clutch purse for balance, willing myself to maintain the composure I had so carefully curated for this evening.

“Easy there,” I murmured, taking a slow, steadying breath. But keeping my feelings under wraps felt akin to lassoing the wind. Not even the commotion of the casino could drown out the internal symphony of my racing heart.

Telling Delilah and Mary about this inner turmoil was an unwelcome risk; they, too, shared sessions with Gabriel, each rep and stretch under his guidance weaving him further into the fabric of our gym life. No, I couldn’t afford to unravel that delicate balance.

Emily, however, was a different story. Our bond had been forged in the fires of candid conversations and laughter that spilled out easily, no pretenses required. She was the confidant who knew of the skipped heartbeats that punctuated every mention of his name. Her knowing smirk told me she was just as invested in this narrative as I was.

“Keep it together,” I urged myself silently, fighting to keep the smile from breaking free. With Emily by my side, I felt a measure of courage bloom amidst the nerves.

My eyes fell first to the floor, lingering on the intricate pattern of the carpet before allowing my gaze to drift upward languidly as if catching sight of him was merely incidental.

The sheen of his shoes caught the low light. They were the kind one might find in upscale boutiques—not just polished but radiant. My attention traveled upwards, tracing the line of his well-fitted slacks tailored to perfection. They contoured over his legs, their shape a testament to disciplined strength.

Continuing my unhurried survey, I noted his crisp white shirt against the deeper shades surrounding us. The strategically unfastened top button was like an invitation, hinting at the wildness beneath his professional façade. It framed a slice of tanned skin, above which a silver chain gleamed.

As my inspection ascended, I couldn’t help but admire the casual drape of his suit jacket over one shoulder. The gesture seemed effortless, yet it unveiled the broad set of his shoulders and the outline of a torso that whispered of power and agility rather than desk-bound drudgery.

Finally, my eyes met his, only to be greeted by the unexpected twinkle of diamond stud earrings. This small revelation, this detail previously unnoticed in our more mundane interactions, felt like uncovering a secret. His grin unfolded slowly, knowingly, as if he were privy to my internal monologue and found it amusing. It wasn’t just a smile but a smirk laden with suggestion.

At that moment, time seemed to hold its breath. Gabriel stood there, a vision of unexpected elegance and raw masculinity that eclipsed my wildest daydreams. The evening’s cacophony faded into a distant murmur. There was something about how he carried himself, an aura of confidence that didn’t need the crutch of ostentation but was amplified by his impeccable attire.

“Damn,” he breathed out, the sound low and resonant, reverberating through the charged air between us. His voice, a familiar timbre now laced with an undercurrent of something more, sent a series of shivers down my spine, each one igniting tiny sparks beneath my skin.

Involuntarily, I found myself leaning in, drawn to the magnetic pull of his presence. Every detail of him was etched sharply in my mind—the subtle scent of his cologne mingling with the thrill of anticipation, the warmth radiating from his figure, and the promise of uncharted territory reflected in his gaze.

The cool façade I meticulously constructed crumbled like a house of cards in a brisk wind. My words caught in my throat, tangled and clumsy. “H-Hi, Majo... Gabriel,” I stammered out, chastising myself for the slip. Where was the smooth operator who had rehearsed this moment in front of the mirror? Gone, apparently, leaving behind a girl with a voice as thin as tissue paper.

Rich and warm, a low chuckle tumbled from him. It was a sound that seemed to belong somewhere other than here.

Gabriel’s presence by my side became a constant, his aura blending seamlessly with the night’s racket. He navigated the sea of clients with an effortless charm, his smiles a currency more valuable than the chips at stake. To others, he offered handshakes and laughter. To me, it was as if he communicated in a secret language comprised of clandestine grins and sotto voce exchanges.

The hour swept past, marked not by the clock’s ticking but by the electric brushes of contact between us. Each time his fingers grazed mine, a charge surged through me.

I found myself adrift in the current of his charisma when he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Mind joining me for a closer look at my luck?” His invitation was no louder than a hum. Yet, it resonated deep within my chest.

“Lead the way,” I replied, my voice steady despite the storm of exhilaration brewing inside me. We moved in tandem through the crowd, his touch a beacon steering me toward an unknown but eagerly anticipated future.

The background noise of clinking chips and conversations faded as we settled into the sanctuary of dim lighting. In this intimate space, Gabriel opened up to me in a vulnerable way, revealing everything about his ongoing struggles with Lilith in recent weeks. I knew he had been grappling with her keeping his son away, but when he laid out the details...

“Wow,” the word escaped me, a breathy acknowledgment of the weight of our conversation. The revelations hung in the air between us, palpable and intense.

“I know,” he sighed, the weight of frustration briefly shadowing his features. “It’s like a switch flipped in her. This made-up affair—she’s obsessed.” His brow furrowed, eyes reflecting a storm of emotions beneath the surface.

The chill of his confession lingered, wrapping around my senses like the cool touch of a shadow. I found myself leaning closer, driven by the need to understand, to unravel the enigma that was Gabriel.

“So, the new phone number...” I ventured cautiously into the silence, my voice barely above a murmur.

“Exactly,” he said, his lips curving into a sardonic smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned back slightly, the movement betraying nothing of the tension radiating from him. “Her voicemail to you...all part of the Lilith show.” His hand swept through the air with a flourish as if brushing away the absurdity of the situation.

Time seemed to suspend itself as our gazes locked, mine searching for answers in the depths of his, which held a mixture of amusement and something darker, harder to define.

“Wait,” I muttered, leaning forward so only he could hear. My finger traced the condensation on the glass as I gathered the courage to voice the question. “Did she say you had... condoms?” It was more than an inquiry; it was an accusation wrapped in disbelief, hanging between us like thick smoke.

His reaction was immediate—a widening of his eyes, the surprise registering clear as day before he regained composure. “It all started with that football group chat,” he said, his voice dropping to a hushed tone of intensity. He leaned in, mirroring my posture.

“Remember?” His brow arched a subtle invitation to reminisce about our past interactions. “I thought—well, maybe you were flirting a little.” The sentence hung unfinished; a delicate line thrown out into the sea of our past exchanges.

I tugged at the hem of my sapphire gown, a nervous habit betraying the calm poise I struggled to maintain. His confession hovered in the air, the weight of it pressing down on me like the thick velvet curtains enclosing our secluded corner.

“So, you bought...” My voice tapered off, laced with hesitance and an undercurrent of curiosity.

“Condoms,” his sheepish grin contrasting with his bald head gleaming under the twinkling lights. A self-conscious chuckle summed up, and he rubbed his smooth scalp. “I didn’t know what kind of girl you were, and... well, I was hoping it might increase my chances.”

His honesty caused the corners of my mouth to betray me, quirking upward despite our conversation’s surreal turn. His unabashedly candid revelation ignited a laugh that gurgled from deep within my chest—a spontaneous eruption of amusement and disbelief.

“But why?” The question slipped out, wrapped in a chuckle. It was absurd, this juxtaposition of his preparedness.

He shrugged, and I watched as a soft blush crept up his neck. “Honestly?” His voice carried the warmth of shared secrets across the small distance between us. “Didn’t want to be caught unprepared if the opportunity arose.” A mischievous twinkle lit his eyes, turning them into playful accomplices to his bashful smile.

Just as the air between us became visibly charged, Emily appeared like a magician’s assistant. Her presence was abrupt, pulling us back to the reality of the event.

“Nic! You have to hear about this unbelievable contractor I found for your kitchen remodel,” she gushed, oblivious to the delicate thread she had just snipped between Gabriel and me.

We exchanged pleasantries and renovation horror stories, our shared amusement creating a buoyant atmosphere that belied the intimate depth of the conversation just moments before.

However, as the evening unfolded and laughter fizzed around blackjack tables, a nagging thought tugged at the edges of my consciousness. The heat of Gabriel’s words from earlier lingered in my mind, his explanation about the condoms replaying itself. It had seemed authentic in the moment, but now, doubt crept in like a shadow at dusk. His smile, his shrug, that look in his eyes – I couldn’t shake the feeling there was something he wasn’t telling me.

“Any weird corks with the house?” Gabriel’s voice cut through my musings, tugging me from the treacherous waters of doubt back to the safer shores of small talk.

I blinked; the spell of our silent exchange broken. “Corks?” I echoed, my voice sounding oddly distant to my own ears as I scrambled to regain my footing in this game we were playing.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the cool surface of the round table, and met his playful query with a soft hum. “No, not really,” I said, pausing as if sifting through a catalog of domestic grievances. A smile, unbidden and tinged with mischief, curved the edges of my lips. “Actually, the only complaint I have is about the water temperature. I can’t seem to get it hot enough for showers.”

At this, Gabriel leaned back in his chair, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. A low chuckle escaped him, a sound so rich and warm it could’ve been bottled and sold as aged whiskey. He reached out, his fingers lightly grazing my wrist before tapping the rim of my nearly empty glass with a casual intimacy that felt like a secret shared.

“Oh well, I could always heat it up for you...” His voice was a velvet promise, smooth and inviting, and I felt the words wrap around me. “…you probably just need to adjust the temperature on the water heater,” he continued, his voice smoothing out the ripples of tension with mundane practicality.

My giggle slipped out, more nervous than I intended, as I played along with his suggestion. “I can adjust the water heater temperature? Should I, like, NetTube it?” The absurdity of discussing household maintenance amidst a backdrop of roulette wheels and blackjack tables only heightened the surrealism of the moment.

Gabriel leaned slightly closer, the mischievous glint in his eye unmistakable. “You could,” he winked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, “or you could ask a handy friend to come over and do it for you.” The word ‘handy’ rolled off his tongue with a playful emphasis that sent another jolt of excitement zipping through me like a live wire.

The flutter in my chest escalated into a frantic pounding. I lifted an eyebrow, striving for a casual tone that belied the internal havoc. “Oh really? What friend would that be?” The question hung between us.

“Well,” he drawled, the word stretching out lazily between us, “I may know of someone handy with things like that. Someone who knows how to make things hot.” The corners of his mouth curled up, a silent invitation to join him in this tantalizing dance of words.

For a moment, I allowed myself to bask in the warmth of his attention, the way it seemed to wrap around me like a cashmere shawl. My pulse quickened at the thought. With a tilt of my head, I let my lashes flutter down, feigning ignorance as sweetly as if I were asking for directions rather than flirting with fate.

“Really?” My voice dipped in innocence while my eyes told a different story, twinkling with mischief. “Think they would stop by and fix that for me?”

“Absolutely,” he said, and the word was more than an answer.

I leaned forward, my heart a conga line against my ribs as I weighed the risk of what I was about to do. The sapphire fabric of my gown whispered secrets along the floor. I channeled all the confidence I could muster, letting it pour into the curve of my lips, the tilt of my head, the audacious glint in my eye.

“Well,” I began, my voice a sultry melody harmonizing with the distant clinking of chips and soft laughter around us, “when you finish one of your classes next week, and I’ve got the boys tucked in, why don’t you stop by?” The invitation hung between us like a silk thread, delicate yet undeniable. “Maybe we can figure out how to get this water a little hotter together.” The words tumbled from me, each syllable laced with innuendo and the thrill of potential, my smile promising adventures beyond the mundane.

Gabriel’s eyes lit up, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in an unhurried motion that seemed to pull at every tense string within me. The atmosphere around us thickened with anticipation as he leaned in ever so slightly, his voice a low purr resonating with possibility. “Sounds like a date,” he said, and the thrill of those four words danced down my spine like the start of something irreversible.

Before I could respond, a shadow fell over our table, and Emily made her presence known. Her arms were folded as she arched a brow, her lips pursed in mock disapproval. Without missing a beat, she let out an exaggerated gag, complete with a theatrical roll of her eyes and a hand flapping at her throat as if fending off some terrible stench. With flair worthy of the stage, she spun on her heel, her laughter trailing behind her like ribbons in the wind.

The sparkle of tension that had enveloped Gabriel and I burst under the weight of her teasing. We joined in the laughter, our chuckles mingling and weaving through the night’s soundscape. For a fleeting moment, the high stakes of the evening gave way to a bout of shared amusement, and the glimpse of normalcy was as refreshing as it was unexpected.

Suddenly, he excused himself with a polite nod, retrieving his phone from the pocket of his immaculately tailored jacket. My breath hitched as I watched him step away; the absence of his warmth was immediate and unsettling. He swiped at his screen, his brow furrowing ever so slightly, and I felt a prick of anxiety.

I tried to focus on the clinking glasses and the shuffling of cards, but my senses were attuned to him. The way he stood, engrossed and distant, chipped away at the foundation of confidence I had built up over the evening. It was foolish to feel a drop in my stomach, to sense a change in the air with his attention diverted. But there it was—an undeniable pang of loss, however brief it might be.

Once he returned to our table, I leaned forward, pretending to adjust the strap of my heel while glancing at Gabriel’s phone. The search engine’s luminescent glow illuminated his furrowed brow. A beat of silence hummed between us, weighty with unspoken thoughts. I strained to see past the lock screen—a message peeking from beneath the digital clock caught my eye and sent my pulse into disarray.

“New review for Alpha Athletics,” it announced in bold letters. Gabriel’s jaw tightened momentarily before he smoothed his expression into one of practiced nonchalance. He slid the device back into the sanctuary of his pocket, calm composure betraying nothing of the irritation that had flickered across his face.

His eyes met mine, a silent communication that we were both acutely aware of the shift in the atmosphere.

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