Chapter 20
I smile genuinely at both of them and make my promises-one for each, like some kind of diplomatic peace treaty.
To Jake, I swear Gabriel will spend significantly less time in our dorm room.
To Gabriel, I promise to stick to the strict schedule again, which will conveniently reduce his excuses to camp out in our space.
“So we’re all in agreement?” I ask, looking between them. “Jake gets his room back, Gabriel gets his perfect grades, and I get to pretend I’m a responsible adult?”
“Sounds about right,” Jake says, looking absolutely thrilled with the arrangement. “Finally, I can walk to the bathroom without stepping over your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my-” I start, then stop. Because what’s the point? Jake knows. Gabriel knows. We all know what this is, even if we can’t say it out loud.
Gabriel’s expression, however, is unreadable-classic bodyguard mode: stoic, controlled, impossible to decipher. Back to being a shadow, a supervisor, and—if I have my way-soon to be crowned the most infuriatingly sexy and intelligent man on the planet.
“We start tomorrow,” Gabriel says, all business. “Six AM run. Breakfast at seven. Study session at eight.”
“Christ, you’re actually excited about this, aren’t you?” I observe, watching the way his eyes light up at the mention of structure and routine.
“I like order,” Gabriel admits. “Sue me.”
“I might,” I mutter, but I’m already mentally adjusting to the new reality.
From that day on, I have a sudden new love for morning runs. Not because I’ve developed some masochistic appreciation for cardio at ungodly hours, but because they always end in Gabriel’s apartment-with the two of us tangled in the shower, steam and soap and hands that know exactly where to touch.
“This is the only reason I’m doing this,” I tell Gabriel one morning, pressed against the shower wall, his mouth doing impossible things to my neck.
“I know,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’m counting on it.”
Breakfasts become sweeter. Gabriel shares whatever book he’s been reading the night before- usually some literary fiction that makes me realize my bodyguard has a secret soft side. He’ll explain why he loves a particular author over coffee, his eyes lighting up when he talks about character development or narrative structure, and I quietly add the titles to my Kindle list, pretending I’m not hopelessly invested in understanding the things that make him tick.
“You don’t have to read everything I recommend,” Gabriel says one morning, catching me adding The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo to my reading list.
“Who says I’m reading them?” I lie, even though I’ve already finished two of his previous recommendations and have strong opinions about Normal People.
“Your browser history,” Gabriel says with a smirk. “You spent three hours reading reviews of Circe last night.”
“Stalker,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it.
“Security specialist,” Gabriel corrects, and I throw a piece of toast at his head.
Lunches turn into easy, carefree group hangouts. We always eat with friends, banter flowing naturally, and I almost forget that Gabriel is technically here on assignment. He fits seamlessly into our group-bantering with Jake about coding, discussing poetry with Naomi when she
joins us, even tolerating Elijah’s increasingly obvious attempts to set him up with random people.
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“You should meet my cousin,” Elijah says one afternoon. “She’s studying law at Georgetown. Total catch.”
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“I’m sure she is,” Gabriel replies diplomatically, not looking at me.
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“Not interested in dating?” Elijah presses, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing.
“I’m focused on my studies,” Gabriel says, which is technically true if you consider studying me a full-time job.
Every now and then, when we’re alone, we slip into German-our mother tongue, our shared comfort zone. We both miss it more than we admit, the way the language feels in our mouths, the way it connects us to something deeper than this complicated situation we’ve created.
“Du fehlst mir,” I tell him one evening, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
“Ich bin direkt hier,” Gabriel replies, but his voice is soft, understanding.
“You know what I mean,” I say, switching back to English. “I miss being able to just… be with you. Without all the performance.”
“Bald,” Gabriel says. “Soon.”
But we both know soon might be a long time coming.
One afternoon at lunch, Elijah casually drops a bomb that shifts the entire dynamic. “So Naomi’s birthday is coming up. I’m planning a surprise party.”
Everyone jumps on board instantly, tossing around suggestions. Jake starts rattling off technical requirements for music and lighting. Someone else mentions decorations. The conversation flows with the easy enthusiasm of people who genuinely care about making someone else happy.
“It’s all handled,” Elijah says, grinning. “I just need you guys to show up and have a great time for my sister.”
Everyone agrees enthusiastically. Then Elijah turns to Gabriel directly, and I feel my stomach clench with anticipation.
“You included. I swear, sometimes you act like you’re working security detail 24/7 when you’re supposedly just a grad student.”
Gabriel and I exchange a quick glance—the kind of loaded look that says everything and nothing at once. Because Elijah isn’t wrong. Gabriel does act like he’s working security detail, because he literally is working security detail.
“I’ll have fun,” Gabriel offers one of his rare, genuine smiles. “Promise.”
“Good,” Elijah says. “Because Naomi specifically asked if you were coming. I think she likes you.”
I choke on my sandwich. “She what?”
“Yeah, she’s been asking about Gabriel ever since that poetry reading,” Elijah continues, oblivious to the panic probably written all over my face. “I think she’s got a crush.”
Gabriel’s expression doesn’t change, but I catch the slight tightening around his eyes. “I’m flattered, but-”
“But you’re focused on your studies,” Elijah finishes with a knowing grin. “Right. Well, maybe a party will help you loosen up a little.”
The conversation moves on, but I’m stuck on the image of Naomi having a crush on Gabriel. Sweet, brilliant, talented Naomi who writes poetry about forbidden love and probably has no idea that the object of her affection is already thoroughly claimed.
“This is going to be a disaster,” I mutter to Gabriel as we walk back to his apartment after lunch.
“Why?” Gabriel asks, though I can see the concern in his eyes.
“Because Naomi likes you, Elijah is going to spend the entire party trying to set you up with his sister, and I’m going to have to sit there and watch while pretending I don’t care.”
“You could always tell them the truth,” Gabriel suggests quietly.
I stop walking. “What truth? That I’m in love with my bodyguard? That every morning run ends with us naked in your shower? That I’ve been lying to everyone about who I am and what this is?”
Gabriel stops too, his expression careful. “You said you’re in love with me.”
“I-” I freeze, realizing what I just said. “I didn’t mean-”
“Leo,” Gabriel says, stepping closer. “Did you just say you’re in love with me?”
My heart pounds against my ribs. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Gabriel’s lips twitch into something that might be a smile.
“Okay, definitely,” I admit. “But that’s not the point.”
“That’s exactly the point,” Gabriel says, cupping my face in his hands. “Because I’m in love with
you too.”
And just like that, everything changes. Because now it’s not just attraction or infatuation or whatever the hell we’ve been calling this. Now it’s love, messy and complicated and absolutely terrifying.
“So what do we do about Naomi’s party?” I ask, because apparently my brain defaults to logistics when faced with emotional overwhelm.
Gabriel’s smile turns wicked. “We go to the party. We have fun. And we try very hard not to let anyone figure out that we’re completely gone for each other.”
“This is going to be a disaster,” I repeat, but I’m smiling now too.
“Probably,” Gabriel agrees. “But at least it’ll be our disaster.”
And somehow, that makes everything feel like it might actually be okay.
End of The Chapter
