She probably just cut those red roses from her garden without putting much thought into it and I was the fool lyingin bed, staring at my ceiling, a stupid smile on my face, drifting from every moment we’d shared so far, and hopelessly wondering how long it would take before the soft spot she held for me to develop intomore.
That night, I fell asleep after purchasing a handful of paranormal romances and adding a few true crime podcasts to my queue.
And I dreamt of Gabriela, the way I consistently have for the last year.
CHAPTER 10
Unlovable
Gabriela
Wednesday evening, I met up with the girls at Anna’s place. We were sitting in the living room with our laptops and an abundance of food surrounding us. Anna made pães de queijo , I made cannoli, and Layla made her late Pakistani mother’s pulao recipe.
We ate and talked while doing our schoolwork. Layla was researching peer-reviewed articles for her upcoming assignment. I was finalizing some graphs on Excel. Anna had already completed her weekly readings and was now working on our bustiers. And Michael—Anna’s five-year-old brother—was curled up next to Layla’s side on the sofa, his small arm thrown across her middle and his head tucked against her shoulder as he watched cartoons on the TV. He had no homework and was only here for Layla, whom he kept shooting bashful glances at when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was adorable. Michael had a crush on her. Last year, when Layla and Josh became official, they’d come over for dinner and Michael had smacked Josh’s crown jewels with his Light Saber until the latter choked with pain. Then Michael had bawled his little heart out because he couldn’t believe that he was losing Layla to Josh.
I might have filmed the entire thing on my phone. It was a core memory. One I might decide to play at Josh and Layla’s inevitable future wedding.
Once sleep started pulling at Michael’s eyelids, Anna carried him upstairs to bed after he gave us all hugs and helped him through his night routine. Minutes later, when she returned, I figured now was a good enough time to drop my bomb of a news.
“So, I saw Franco two days ago while I was leaving my Horror & Cult Classic Cinema class,” I casually announced while closing my laptop and diving for my bowl of pulao.
Layla’s head snapped away from her laptop screen in my direction, pure disgust flashing on her face. “Oh my God. What?”
“Ew,” Anna spat, a hard gleam in her hazel eyes as she paused her embroidery work, one hand gripping a thread and needle, the other one holding the bustier. “Why is that asshole back in the city?”
Franco moved to New York to live with his father shortly after our breakup when we were eighteen. As far as I was concerned, he’d dropped off the face of the Earth.
“I have no clue,” I said bitterly. “But he had the audacity to say ‘It’s good to see you, Gabby.’”
Like the fucker hadn’t left me with a handful of issues, anxiety, and so much trauma.
Layla shook her head angrily. “What a piece of shit.”
Anna punctured her needle with excessive force into the fabric. “He needs to stay away from you if he knows what’s good for him. Otherwise, he won’t like what Layla and I do to him.”
I loved my best friends and how they were always so ready to fight for me. When Franco broke my heart all those years ago, Anna and Layla broke into his old Camry to dump fifty pounds of pink glitter everywhere. Until it looked like a unicorn puked all over his car. It was a funny form of revenge and even without witnessing Franco’s reaction, I just knew he had a bitch fit.
“I appreciate the unwavering love and loyalty,” I responded. “But Franco isn’t worth it.”
I wished I’d understood that when I was fifteen years old. Instead, it took me three years to figure out we were far from compatible. We had some good moments, but the bad ones completely overshadowed them.
An old memory struck me—one I tried my best to suppress over the years.
The fight that ended Franco’s and my relationship.
“Fuck, now I can’t even talk to other girls?” Franco scoffed, pacing his room while I sat on his bed like a child getting scolded for doing something bad. Which was ridiculous. I shouldn’t feel guilty for bringing up the fact that I saw him getting all cozy with Gertrude at yesterday’s party. “Ma dai!Gabby, you’re too much.”
“You weren’t talking to her,” I retorted, trying to rein in my temper. “You were flirting with her. There’s a difference, Franco. You were seconds away fromkissingher and you probably would have if I hadn’t caught you!”
“You’re imagining it. It was a harmless conversation.”
Please don’t tell me this jackass is actually gaslighting me?“Don’t talk to me like that! I know what I saw! If you don’t want to be with me, just say so! But don’t fucking cheat!”
“Cheat?” He barked out a laugh, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling as though he was trying to find patience to deal with me.
I seethed. “Yes,cheat.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” he blazed, getting in my face. “Talking to someone isn’t cheating!” His spit flew as he spoke and I had to rear back to prevent it from landing on me. “Did you see me with my tongue down her throat? With my dick dipping inside of her?”
