The Cirque (16 page)

“Good. I hoped you would.” He put the water away and shrugged his shoulders back into the backpack. “I grew up in New Mexico and Utah, and I spent a lot of time hiking.”

I hadn’t known he’d grown up around here, and now I liked even more that he’d chosen to take me hiking for our date. Little by little, he was revealing himself to me.

“So, why didn’t you bring Gertie on our hike today?” I asked once we started walking again.

He glanced back at me. “I thought carrying around a bag of dog poop would spoil the romance.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Good call.”

“And besides, you don’t like dogs.”

“I’m fine with her.” The truth was, I hadn’t totally decided, but she was growing on me.

During the whole hike up the trail, my thoughts had weighed heavily on Gabriel’s past and what our future might hold. I knew I was falling for him and it scared me to think there might be a violent side of him that I hadn’t seen. I tried to think of ways to ask him without seeming like I was interrogating him or didn’t have faith in him. I wanted him to know I accepted him, not to push him away with accusations. He didn’t condemn me for my mistakes with Dmitri, and I owed him the same until I knew the full story.

After about an hour of hiking, we neared the top of the cliff. The boulders had gotten bigger and the trail wound right over the tops of them. Gabriel went ahead of me and helped me across. When we reached the summit, he took my hands and pulled me up over the ledge. We walked to the edge and looked out at the forest below us. We seemed so high up, even though the climb hadn’t been that strenuous. It was beautiful.

After a few minutes of staring out at the horizon and catching our breath, Gabriel took the backpack off and spread a blanket out on the cliff. I sat down while he reached into the backpack and removed our water bottles and plastic bags along with cheese, crackers, a container of grapes and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies.

“Bruce hooked me up,” he said, glancing up at me through his eyelashes.

“Nice,” I said, smiling at him. Bruce was the jolly, rotund cook in the cooking tent. Gabriel arranged a paper plate and set it in front of me. “Thanks.” I popped a grape into my mouth. I was relieved to see he wasn’t going to make me eat alone. He made himself a plate and took a bite. “So, do you have any siblings?” I asked.

He rubbed his hands through his hair and down his neck as if
remembering. He had a faraway look in his eyes. “Sierra. She lived in the last foster home I was in.”

I remembered a painting of a little girl that hung on the wall beside his bed. She was running through a field, sunlight streaming through her messy blond hair. Her face held such innocence. He’d captured it in his brush strokes with the bisque pigment in her skin, her bright, hopeful eyes. I should have known she was someone special.

“I was there for two years,” he said pulling my attention from the painting back to him. I could feel there was more he was holding back. I didn’t know how to ask him so I waited.

“Frank, her father, was a mean drunk and his wife was practically catatonic from the Prozac-vodka cocktail she had for breakfast every morning.” He stared out at the canyon. “The reason I stayed there as long as I did was Sierra. She was their biological kid. They’d brought in foster kids over the years for the extra money from the state. Sierra was eleven when I got there.” He looked down and arranged a slice of cheese on a cracker.

I didn’t want to interrupt his train of thought while I had him talking for once, and drew my legs up under me on the blanket, settling in. I looked from him back to my plate, giving him more space to open up without me watching him.

“We used to go hiking together.” He smiled slightly at the memory, but then shook his head like he was caught doing something wrong. “It took me a while to figure out that Frank was messing with her. She never told me.” He looked out at the canyon. “It was little things. She used to sing and hum around the house all the time, but then it stopped. Then I noticed her flinch once when he came in for a hug, and she stopped wanting to sit on his lap. Once I figured it out, I started sleeping on the floor in her room, at the foot of her bed.”

His voice grew quiet, his brow heavy. “I fought that fat old bastard off her more times than I care to remember.” He turned to me for the first time and I sensed that he wanted to reach out and touch my hand, but he held himself back. “When I fought Dmitri off you that night, I had all those feelings come rushing back. I could’ve literally killed him.” His face hardened and he looked down at his hands. I barely breathed, waiting for him to continue. He let out a deep sigh and looked into my eyes.

“I still don’t understand how you knew something was wrong and how you knew to come to me.” He didn’t answer and I knew he wasn’t going to. “So, what happened to Sierra?”

He looked back up at me like he’d been interrupted in the middle of deep concentration. “I guess I’m not very good at keeping in touch.” He shrugged. “She’d be a freshman in high school now.” He picked up a small rock beside him and tossed it over the ledge. I didn’t hear it land.

I swallowed, afraid to ask the next question on my mind. “What about Frank?” His fist clenched until his knuckles were white and I saw his jaw twitch.

“That’s why I had to take off.”

I wanted to probe more, but my voice caught in my throat. Was it like Dmitri said – he’d killed him? I guess now I knew the motive. I still needed to hear what happened from Gabriel though. Part of me wanted to take him in my arms and hold him, stroke his temple over and over like my mother used to do to me when I needed comforting. To me, he was a protector of the innocent and I couldn’t muster up the energy to care about Frank. The only thing that made the pit in my stomach turn sour was not knowing the full story, not hearing it from him directly. I wanted him to open up to me and trust me.

“Sorry, I…I shouldn’t be talking about this,” he said.

“No. It’s okay.” I set my hand on top of his. He unclenched his fist and his hand relaxed under mine.

I leaned into him, drawn forward by a desperate wanting in his eyes. I smelled traces of his cologne and when I brought my hand to his cheek, his stubble was like sandpaper on the palm of my hand. I leaned in closer until my lips were nearly touching his, then stopped and waited. I felt his breath tickling me and, getting no resistance, I moved closer until my lips were nearly touching his. He moved one hand under my hair and the other grasped my waist. He pressed his lips to mine, starting out slow, unsure at first. Within seconds, we were kissing greedily. His hand slid from my neck to my jaw and I opened my mouth to his. His tongue moved softly against mine. He knew exactly what he was doing and I held on for dear life, as an intense heat radiated inside me.

When we pulled apart, I was breathless and my heart beat raggedly. The sun was just beginning its descent and the sky glowed pink.

“We better head back before it gets dark,” he said. His voice was rough; clearly he was affected by that kiss as much as I was. That thought sent another wave of warmth through my chest.

I nodded, though the last thing I wanted to do was leave right then. One kiss with him wasn’t nearly enough, but we packed up the bag and folded the blanket. The hike to the car felt longer and more agonizing. During the car ride back, I waited for him to take my hand, to give me some indication that I was not alone in what I’d felt up on that mountain, but he calmly gazed ahead and guided us home. I wondered if I’d done something wrong.

We pulled into the parking lot and I figured the date was over, his obligation fulfilled – one first date, complete with a kiss. I could check it off my bucket list. He parked and turned to look at me. “Do you want to come take Gertie for a walk with me?”

I hoped it was his way of getting me alone again. And this time, there would be a bed. “Sure.” Once again, I had visions of a gasoline can being poured over the flames inside me, urging them into a raging fire.

We walked Gertie around the trailers and found ourselves
in front of his door within a few minutes. “You want to come in?” he asked quietly, looking into my eyes.

I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice not to shake. He opened the door and carried Gertie up the steps. I needed to cool myself down; I’d been wound up since that kiss an hour and a half ago and was ready to pounce on him. He turned on some low music and sat next to me on the bed. In the small trailer with him I felt enclosed, like we were in a completely different world…like we were tucked away in our own cocoon.

He reached over and slid out my ponytail clip, letting my hair fall down around my shoulders. My heart pounded and I hoped he wanted exactly what I did. He leaned forward until we were almost touching, but then stopped short. He was so unrushed. It was nothing like being with Dmitri, where there seemed to be a constant race to the main event. I didn’t know how he could possibly possess this much self-control.

He tilted my chin up toward his and his eyes met mine. Once again he was gentle and careful with me, not rushing through anything. He leaned in to brush his lips against my jaw, working his way toward my mouth, while the roughness of his stubble caressed my cheek. I hardly dared to breathe and closed my eyes, savoring every sensation while the passion inside me grew. His every move, every touch, seemed deliberate. He trailed his fingertips down the side of my neck. I could actually feel his restraint, the way his muscles tensed as he held part of himself back from me.

He finally leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I deepened the kiss and parted his lips. Once our tongues met, the kiss turned frantic and I pressed my body to his. I felt his tongue, warm and wet, dance with mine. He tangled his hands in my hair, pulling me closer, his breathing growing heavy against my mouth.

I pushed him onto his back without breaking the kiss. He fell back onto the bed and I pressed down on him. My hair draped around us and his hands moved it away, stroking the side of my face and down my shoulders. I wished his hands would keep moving farther down, but he kept things frustratingly PG-13. I decided to push things along and let my hands wander under his t-shirt, tracing the firm lines of his stomach. His skin was smooth, his body hard with muscle that tightened as I touched him.

His lips broke away from mine. “We need to stop.” His voice was rough.

I pulled back to look at him, wondering if I’d done something wrong, but the look in his eyes didn’t match his words at all. We caught our breath for a second, and lay staring up at the ceiling. I could feel his heart pounding just as hard as mine.

A few seconds later – his request to stop forgotten – we went back to kissing. He was slow, deliberate, like he couldn’t pull himself away no matter how much he might want to. I sensed that building inside both of us was the kind of desire you wanted to stretch out and savor forever.

I heard Gertie hop off the bed. She pawed at the door and whined.
I knew there was a reason I didn’t like dogs
. “I think she’s gotta go out,” I whispered near his ear.

“She’s fine,” he said moving to my neck.

Gertie gave out a short but insistent bark and pawed at the door again. Gabriel sighed and sat up, moving me off his lap easily.

“I guess it’s getting kind of late,” he said. He smoothed my hair down. “You probably need to get some sleep.” I didn’t know why he always seemed more concerned with my needs, but a small part of me thought it was cute. A very small part, since his suggestions were usually contrary to what I wanted in the moment.

He took Gertie out and they walked me home. She insisted on being carried when were were about halfway there. He kissed me goodnight at my door and I thanked him for the date.

I changed into pajamas but couldn’t sleep. I lay awake thinking about Gabriel all night – the way his hands tangled in my hair and the way his breath felt on my neck.
His kisses. His scent. I was quickly becoming addicted.

My phone vibrated on the desk, waking me up late the next morning. It was my mom. My normal weekly call to her would be tomorrow, so I wondered if something had happened. She usually never called me. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and grabbed the phone to stop its buzzing.

“Hey, Mom. What time is it there?” I asked.

“Just after midnight.”

Sasha was still sleeping, so I stepped outside even though I was in a tank top and a tiny pair of shorts. She said she was just calling to talk, but there was a tightness in her voice. I worried for a second that she’d talked to Jenna’s parents and found out I was gone and was testing me to see if I’d come clean.

“You need to come to Tuscany with me next year,” she said cheerily, disarming my fears. I could tell she’d been drinking, which was no surprise. While they were in Tuscany they went through several cases of wine.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” I’d been there only once, three years ago, when they first bought the house.

“We could have girl time, drink wine, garden. You could have a summer romance with an Italian boy.” She giggled.

I didn’t know who this person was or what she had done with my careful, uptight mother. 

“I just miss you, Nell.”

She hadn’t called me by that nickname since I was about eight. It was the name of a ballerina in a book she read to me when I was little and it pulled at my heart in an unexpected way.