Between the Lines (8 page)

Gabe – 11

So, this
is the Museum of Art. I’d heard about it. I just never got a chance to visit.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve been to the city since the summer before my
sophomore year of college. And, all my trips were with my family. Had I even
suggested coming here, Dad would have had me either seeing a psychologist to
make sure I wasn’t gay or had gone soft, or knocked me upside the head. No,
when we came to the city, these are the places mom and my sister went, while
Dad and I did “manly” things. He’s such a douche.

“Oh,
we’re going to have to come back this summer.”

Ellen’s
looking at pamphlet she picked up at the visitor’s counter. “Why?”

“They’re
going to have Van Gogh’s Irises and Roses.”

I’ve
heard of Van Gogh, of course, but I couldn’t pick out his work. My students
could though.

Why the
hell did Baxter hire me? Even if I only teach English and writing, you think
they’d want someone more artistically minded.

“Since we
are here now, where to?”

She
doesn’t answer but strolls into a gallery, holding my hand. This is nice. We’re
not in a hurry to do anything, just simply being with each other, looking at
paintings, photographs, and sculptures. I’m beginning to tell how Ellen feels
about a piece of art just by her expression, before she says anything. A soft
smile and lightening of her eyes, means it’s something she loves and
appreciates. An odd quirk to the corner of her mouth and eyebrows drawn
together, means she’s perplexed by the piece and not sure if she gets it. Some,
she barely glances at, as if they don’t hold her interest. But, when she stops
and stares, frowning, I know she really dislikes a piece. I’m not sure if I’m
spending more time looking at Ellen or the art.

I glance
at my phone as we exit an exhibit. It’s going on four. Hell, we’ve been here,
walking around, for three hours. I had no idea that much time had gone by. No
wonder my knee and leg are killing me. And, I’m getting hungry. I could go
without food and I don’t want to stop her because I’m loving this. Just
spending time with her, learning about the different artists because she knows
a ton about the work in this place and has a greater appreciation for it than
I’d anticipated. I’m having fun just learning all kinds of things about her.
But, if I don’t sit for a bit, my knee may give out.

“Is there
a place we could get a drink?” I don’t want to tell her I have to rest the leg.
She’ll insist we leave and go back to the apartment. She seems more concerned
with my leg than me half the time anyway. But, Ellen is enjoying herself too
much, she loves it here and I’m not about to leave before the place closes.

“Sure.”
She smiles. “There’s a café. Let’s rest a bit.” She glances at her phone.
“They’re only open for another half hour or so, so we’ll have to hurry.”

She turns
in the opposite direction. Ellen knows this place so well that she doesn’t even
consult a map. I’m not sure I could find my way back to the entrance without
one.

“I’m
thirsty anyway.”

We decide
just to get a drink and relax, and I try not to sigh after we get a table and
sit, but it feels good to be off my leg. After the waitress takes our orders
and returns with a beer for me and glass of wine for Ellen, she turns to me,
elbows on the table. “So, tell me about yourself.”

It takes
me aback. We’ve been together, almost non-stop, since we met. Of course, that
was only a few days ago.

“I know
your father’s a dick. Your words, not mine, since I haven’t met him, but what
about the rest of your family?”

“Let me
see, my mom is great, dad not so much. I have a younger sister.”

“How old
is she?”

“Twenty-one.
She plays soccer for the University of Rochester.”

“So, it’s
okay for your sister to play soccer.”

I laugh.
“It’s a girly sport, you know.”

She rolls
her eyes. I’d like Ellen to meet mom and my sister, but I doubt she’ll ever
meet my dad.

“Catholic
family,” I add. “If possible, my mother would have had eleven disciples after
me and my sister, but she couldn’t have any more kids.”

“I
thought there were twelve.”

“My
mother would never name a kid Judas, so she was going to settle for eleven.”

“What’s
your sister’s name?”

“Mary.”

Her eyes
go wide. “You’re real name is Gabriel, isn’t it? As in the angel.”

My face
heats. “Yeah. I hated it as a kid. And, neither one of us missed a single mass
until we my dad determined football was more important.”

Her jaw
drops. I don’t know where she stands with religion but I’m having too nice of a
time to enter into that potentially volatile topic. The quickest way to
determine friend from foe is to discuss religion or politics and I’m so not
ready to find out where Ellen stands on either.

“What
about you?” I ask. “Any siblings?”

Ellen
glances away and lifts her glass of wine, taking a drink, not answering me. Did
something happen? I sure as hell don’t want to bring up painful memories, not
when we are having such a great day.

After a
moment, she puts her glass on the table. “I have an older brother and sister.
They still live in Nevada. So do my parents.”

She
didn’t want to talk about her dad before. Now I remember assuming they’re
estranged.

“I’m the
baby, and always did my own thing, much to their disappointment.” She laughs,
trying to make light of a situation though I get the feeling there’s nothing
funny about it.

“How’s
your leg feeling?”

This is
like the hundredth time she’s asked. “It’s fine.”

“Don’t
lie to me,” she snaps. “I don’t like it.” Suddenly she’s cold, as if she’s
angry. “The longer we walked the heavier your limp got. I didn’t say anything
because you want to act like it’s no big deal. There’s nothing wrong with
babying an injury.”

Yes there
is, I almost say.
Only weak people rest. Push through. You’ll be stronger
for it. Be a man.
I can hear my dad’s words echo in my mind. Guys who
pushed through injuries, usually only made it worse. Is that what I’m doing by
forcing myself to walk around after twisting it? Or, I’m in denial. It hurt
like hell when my foot slipped out from under me and I sure as hell do not want
to have another surgery. Maybe I should be at home, foot up and icing it. Not
walking around the Metropolitan Museum of Art. “Okay, it hurts.”

“It’s why
you made up the excuse for getting something to drink instead of just coming
out and saying ‘hey, I need to sit for a bit. Do you mind?’”

She’s
right. “Sorry. I just don’t want to appear weak, okay.” God, I hate admitting
that to her, and to myself. “And, I
was
thirsty.”

Ellen
reaches over, putting her hand over mine. “Gabe, there is nothing weak about
treating an injury. You’ve got to get that stupid concept out of your head
right now.”

Her brown
eyes are boring into mine and something shifts inside. I’m not sure what it is,
but suddenly, I’m okay with the fact that I’m in pain and can tell her. She’s
not going to think any less of me if I just want to rest. How can something
simple change everything in how I see myself?

“You’re
right. I’m sorry.” I take a swig of my beer and stretch out my leg. “Do you
still have the Ibuprofen in your purse?”

“It’s
gone. You’ve been popping them like they’re candy. I bet you didn’t realize
that either, or didn’t think I’d notice.”

I have to
look away. Damn she’s perceptive.

Ellen
leans across the table. “The museum is going to close soon. Why don’t we leave,
grab a bite to eat and go home?”

“What
about a show tonight?”

She just
shakes her head, her mouth slightly agape. “Once I get you on that couch or in
the bed, you aren’t going anywhere.”

My cock
instantly comes to attention and I lean in and grin. “The bed?”

Her face
turns bright pink. “You know what I mean.” She takes a hasty sip of wine. “I
have half a mind to take you to an ER to make sure something isn’t broken in
there.”

I
straighten. “If it doesn’t get better, I’ll call my doc when we get back.”

Ellen
wags a finger at me. “See that you do.”

Ellen

After
leaving the museum, Gabe and I walk until we find a pharmacy. I’m so irritated
with him right now. It’s clear that the longer we were there, the more painful
his knee became, but each time I asked he insisted it was fine, when obviously
it wasn’t. I stopped mentioning it until I finally confronted him.

Why do
guys, jocks especially, try to play off pain as if it’s nothing more than a
paper cut? Though, those can hurt like hell too.  Just because we came into the
city, to supposedly see a show and hang out, didn’t mean we have to actually
take in all the sights. I’d be perfectly happy just sitting in the apartment,
cuddle up reading a book or watching television, or simply talking. I’ve seen
all this before and can come back any time. Hell, if I wasn’t working on a
story about Baxter, I’d never have left.

Crap, I
completely forgot the reason I was in his town to begin with and why I rented
the apartment for two months. 

I glance
over at Gabe as he’s looking at the various pain killers available and bite my
lip. I should tell him. I couldn’t when we first met, but he does have a right
to know. Besides, he’s going to figure it out anyway, when I show up at Baxter
on Monday. The appointment has already been scheduled and it took me over a
month to get, so I can’t let it go now.

Besides,
those girl’s words echo in my head, but I don’t think Gabe had anything to do
with whatever happened. Well, I know he didn’t where she was concerned. He
didn’t even work there, but I’m usually a good judge of character and he’s a
good guy. I can’t see him being involved with anything where kids are hurt or
messed with.

It could
be there isn’t anything happening at Baxter. Or, he simply doesn’t know. The
only thing I am certain of is that he’s not involved in whatever it is.

Maybe
I’ll tell him tonight, or after we get back, but I have a gut feeling he won’t
be happy about it. I don’t know why, but my instincts are warning me not to
saying anything just yet.

I’ll see
what I find out and then ask.

It’s
probably better that way anyway.

Besides,
whenever someone finds out I’m a reporter and actively working on a story they
may or may not be connected to, they clam up and back away, as if I’m a leper.
I don’t think I could stand Gabe doing that too. We’re having too much fun and
for once, I’d like to get to really know someone, and them me. Well, as much as
they can, before they push me away and go all silent.

He grabs
a large bottle and starts down another aisle, I simply follow along. I don’t
really need anything.

Crap.
We’re in the feminine protection aisle. Really? Of all the aisle he could have
gone down he picks this one? Cards would have been fun, or even candy, but instead,
he’s standing next to the tampons.

What the
hell could he possibly want here and what is he looking at?  I’m almost afraid
to ask and then I see he’s by the condoms, oils, gels, whatever you could want
for protected and enjoyable sex.

My heart
stops for a second before heat pools in places anxious to be touched. I watch
Gabe, holding back, not sure if my input is necessary or wanted.

He grabs
a bottle of heated massage oil.

Sweet!

The turns
to me, holding it up. “This is really good for rubbing into the area around my
knee.”

Shit
! So much for getting my hopes up.
“Don’t they have stuff like that over with the bandages and wraps and crap?”

 “Sure.”
He grins. “I just didn’t want to walk over there when I wanted to get these
too.” He holds up a box of condoms and my clit starts to ache. My face also
must be a hundred shades of red too by the heat it’s putting off. I mean, I’m
familiar with condoms, but my past boyfriends always bought those, and never
when I was around. I’ve never purchased a condom in my life.

I walk
closer to him to whisper. “I thought we weren’t going to have sex.”

“Me too.”
He turns more fully and leans in. “I just don’t think I can be that strong
around you.”

His blue
eyes are darkened, and that look is enough for me to just want to grab him and
drag him back to my place immediately

“Unless
you don’t want to. That’s fine.” He starts to put the box back on the shelf but
I stop him.

“Get
them. You know, like, just in case.”

Gabe – 12

After
paying for my purchases, Ellen and I step back outside. It wasn’t my intention
to purchase condoms but I didn’t bring any with me. Because I didn’t have any
last night it was easy to just sleep with her and put off the sex, but after
she made that comment about keeping me in bed, all I could think about was her
being there with me. Naked and moaning.

I pull
her to the side of the building, away from the pedestrian traffic and look down
into her soft brown eyes. Her color has returned to normal. Maybe I should have
just run out when she was busy. I’m sure there’s a place close to the
apartment. Then I could have saved her the embarrassment. It’s not like buying
condoms is anything new to me, but I’ve usually been alone. This is the first
time a girl has been with me. One that I can’t wait to strip naked and lay out
on the bed.

“I want
to do this right, the whole dating thing, getting to know one another before
the next step, but honestly Ellen, I’ve never felt this way about a woman in
such a short time. Hell, I’m not even sure I’ve ever felt this way.”

She goes
up on her tiptoes and kisses me. “I haven’t either.”

Inwardly
I sigh with relief. At least she feels the same. Whatever that is that’s
between us. I can’t even claim its love. You don’t fall in love with someone in
three days, but how else can I explain it? I’ve never been in love so I
wouldn’t know anyway.

“Let’s go
back to the apartment, get something to eat and just hang out for the rest of
the night.”

She
doesn’t have to convince me to do otherwise. I don’t care how much culture she
wants to show me. That can be done tomorrow.

We hail a
taxi and head back. She’s next to me, head on my shoulder, our fingers
entwined, and I can’t wait to get her alone. Hell, I don’t even think I’m
hungry anymore. At least not for food.

“Let’s
get sandwiches from the deli around the corner,” she announces as we step out
onto the sidewalk.

“Sure.”
We should eat because I’ll probably need my strength for the various activities
I have planned.

“Then
we’ll get you settled on the couch, ice on your knee, and see what’s on
television.”

Did she
forget I just bought condoms?

Maybe she
doesn’t want to have sex.

Crap!

But, I
get it. This has been a whirlwind since we met. If she’s not ready, I’ll
respect that, but damn, it’s not going to be easy or comfortable. “Don’t coddle
me,” I say after a minute.

She turns
and smiles brightly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Somehow I
don’t believe her, but let her drag me around the corner to a small deli where
we order sandwiches and chips and go back to the apartment. Before I have a
chance to say anything, she’s ordering me to the couch, pressing the remote
into my hand and disappearing down the hall.

I hear
her messing around in the kitchen and consider going and helping her, but it
feels good to have my leg stretched out and up on the coffee table. I click the
remote and the television comes on, just in time for the nightly news.

Ellen
returns with a tray. Our food is on it, along with a couple of beers and an ice
pack, which she gently plops on my knee.

“Thank
you.”

“I warned
you. Once you got back here, you weren’t moving.”

She also
mentioned the couch or the bed. I was really hoping for the bed.

Not much
is said while we eat, but I’m very much aware of the woman beside me. After she
finishes, she curls up to my side and I pull her close. Damn, this is nice. I
could get really used to spending my evenings like this.

We watch
a sitcom and then a drama, but I’m hardly paying attention. Do I try to make
love to her? She knows I’ve bought the damn condoms but she hasn’t given me any
sign that she wants me to need them.

The
icepack is no longer cold and I take it from my knee.

“Do you
want another?”

“I’m
good.”

“Great,
I’ll be back in a minute.”

She
scoops up the remains of our dinner and puts them on the tray, along with the
empty beer bottles. I relax back into the couch, not sure I want to ever move
when she returns with two more beers. She hands me one, puts hers on the table
and disappears again.

I
continue to click on the different channels and sip my beer, waiting for her to
come back.

“Take
your pants off.”

I choke
on my beer and look over. Ellen is standing at the entrance to the living room.
She’s wearing a short, silky nighty that could only have come from a lingerie
shop. I admire her from her delicate toes, up her long, shapely legs until I
get to the lavender lace hiding her pussy and up to the delicate straps over
her tantalizing shoulders and to her beautiful face. She’s biting her bottom
lip, as if unsure.

“I
brought this.” She thrusts out the heating massage oil. “So I could rub it into
your knee and muscles.”

Hell, my
knee is numb right now. I’d completely forgotten about it when I saw her
standing there. However, other parts of my anatomy are aching and hard.

I’m
pretty sure I don’t need her rubbing anything, at least around my knee, but I
slowly stand and slip out of my jeans. At least I’m wearing boxers, which are a
hell of a lot more comfortable in my current state than a pair of tighty
whities.

She
gasps, looking down at me.

Did she
think I wouldn’t be as hard as rock when she walked in dressed like that?

“Have you
looked at your knee?”

Enough
about my knee, but I look down anyway. Damn, she’s right. No wonder it’s been
hurting so bad. It’s swollen, almost twice the size it is normally. Shit. I had
better not have torn something else when I slipped. I don’t have time for
surgery, rehab and all that other crap that goes with it.

“Sit!”
she orders, coming forward and I obey.

Ellen

I can’t
believe Gabe was walking around all day with his knee like that. No wonder he was
popping so many pills. I have half a mind to haul his ass off to a hospital so
he can get something prescription strength to help.

After
he’s back on the couch, I lift his heel and put it back on the coffee table.
“Do you want a pillow or anything?”

“I’m
fine,” he bites out.

“Like
hell you are.” I gently touch around the area of the knee cap. It feels like
there’s nothing but water under the skin. There are also about four scars. One,
directly over the knee cap and others around it. “How many surgeries have you
had?”

“Four.”

“This
one?” I run my hand down the straight center scar.

“The
third.”

“What
happened?”

“Knocked
on my ass.” He chuckles. “Actually on the knee, shattering the patella.”

“So, it
isn’t just from the
football
injury.”

“The
first and second surgery were. The other two, from the fall.”

I glance
up and meet his eyes. “Where should I rub?”

He arches
an eyebrow and my face heats again. I’m very much aware of the bulge in his
boxers. Damn, I’m almost eye level with it from my place on the floor beside
his leg. It’s long, thick and hard. I’m getting wet just thinking about it
being in me. But not yet. His knee needs attention before his cock does.

 “I don’t
want to hurt your knee.”

“Just in
the muscles around it, though I don’t think it’s going to do any good at this
point.”

He’s
probably right. A doctor needs to take a look at it, but I doubt he’d leave now
anyway. However, if he doesn’t call when he gets back, I’ll nag at him until he
makes the call just to get me to shut up.

I pour
the oily liquid into my hands and rub them together before touching his leg. I
start with the calf muscles, easing the tension, working around the knee and
then into the thigh.  Gabe isn’t saying anything, just watching.

Some
tension has left the leg, but none of it from his cock. Has it gotten bigger?

I slide
my oiled fingers further up his thigh. His hand stops mine. I look up.

“Are you
sure you want to go any further?” I know he’s asking if I’m sure about sex
because if my fingers move a fraction of an inch, they’ be under the leg of his
boxers, far away from the injured knee.

“You
bought condoms.”

I’m not
sure how it happened, but in a blink of an eye, Gabe has me off the floor and
across his lap.  “Yes, I did,” he says before devouring my mouth.