He moves across the tarmac like he’s got nowhere to be, casual and unbothered, headed toward a sleek gray-and-blackprivate jet. Loose linen pants hang low on his hips, paired with dark-brown sandals and a fitted white tee. A single bag rolls behind him, his other hand lifting lazily to brush through his thick, sun-streaked hair—those familiar waves tousled perfectly by the wind. Sunlight catches on his skin. He’s glowing. Effortless. Untouchable.
And I can’t move.
“Hellooo… Alex? Are you listening to me?” Teya’s voice cuts through the haze. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I rub my eyes, hoping—just for a second—that she’s right. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. The caffeine crash. The guilt warping my perception.
But nope. He’s still there.
My cell vibrates in my hand, and I glance down. Ana. Perfect timing.
“Teya,” I say, eyes still fixed past my reflection in the glass. “Let me call you back.”
I don’t wait for her reply. I end the call and tap Ana’s name before the screen settles.
Gabriel’s talking to the pilot now, head tilted the way it always tilts when he’s listening—patient, polite, calm. One hand gestures, loose and unbothered, like this is nothing unusual. Like the whole runway is just another place he moves through.
Maybe he does.
I pick up my pace, weaving through the crowd and heading straight for the windows, drawn like a magnet.
Closer. I need to be closer.
The glass cools beneath my palm when I reach it, a shock against the heat that’s already begun to cling to my skin. Outside, Gabriel laughs at something the pilot says, head thrown back just a fraction.
I blink hard, snapping myself back into the moment, remembering the phone is still pressed to my ear.
“Hi sweetheart,” I say, the words catching slightly. I clear my throat, trying to steady my voice. “What’s with the early morning call? Oh, before you answer… have you talked to your dads yet?”
“Good lord!” Ana groans. “Not you too. What’s with everyone this morning?” A lazy giggle slips in, softened by sleep. “Does anyone sleep anymore? Swear to God, gay guys are all early risers.”
A sneeze cuts her off, sharp and tiny, and then she’s back.
“Anyway—good morning. Dad texted me a few minutes ago. Apparently, you’re missing?” She barrels ahead before I can react. “He was desperate to know if I’d heard from you. Like… morning literally just startedfiveminutes ago, but whatever…”
“Ana—” I try to cut in, but she either doesn’t hear me or chooses to ignore me.
“So…” she continues, breathlessly. “Now that I’ve officially spoken to you, I can report back to Dad that you’re alive and well. Geesh!”
She finally pauses for air, and I grab the opening in our very one-sided conversation.
“Sweetheart,” I say, eyes locked on the tarmac. “Have you seen Gabriel?”
“You’re joking, right?”
My heart thuds once—hard—then races. I catch a fleeting glimpse of Gabriel’s back as he steps onto the plane.
No.
No, no, no.
A warm breeze lifts his shoulder-length hair, whipping it lazily around his face like it’s just another day. Like he’s not about to vanish into the sky. I press my hand to the glass, willing him to turn around.
Look at me. Just once. Please.
He turns, but only slightly, just enough to shake the pilot’s hand.
That’s it.
