Wrecked

Sharon's POV

I was raving mad. Still raving mad. Last night, when I got home, I saw things were tidy. Well, as tidy as Gabriel could leave them. The bed had been made—the sheets had been tugged more to one side than the other—the pillows on the couch had been fluffed and the washed dishes had been put away. Yet, I hadn't called Gabe. I knew if I'd called, I would've listened to his honest apology and let bygones be bygones.

"It looks like you're still pissed." Robbie commented as I moved my arms in an arch, rotating my torso in the same movement. "Your body is seriously taut."

I couldn't relax. In high school, I'd kept a perfect attendance record. I'd been

Valedictorian. In three years at Juilliard, I had never had a slip up like that. I righted myself, skipping my reflection in the mirror, finding Robbie's. Classes had ended for the afternoon and we were practicing in a vacant studio.

"You can't keep that up, Sharon."

"I'm angry. Sometimes anger tends to linger, Rob…"

"No, I mean… You can't keep doing Gabe." I fixed him in the mirror covered wall. Unspoken words passed between us; my chest emptied as I stood to full height, stretching out my shoulders to loosen my trapeze muscles.

"It's not about the sex, Robbie."

Robbie's face twisted, like he didn't want to imagine me having sex.

"All I'm saying is that… You should take a beat."

"Would you take a beat from your best friend?"

"Hmm, not under normal circumstances. But I'm not sleeping with Steve." True. "Listen, relationships are complicated in every shape or form. Sometimes you need to distance yourself to reevaluate the situation."

"I know what the situation is."

"Gabe doesn't. Maybe he needs space too."

"Space?" I spat. I grabbed my water bottle. "He's the one who shows up unannounced and uninvited. Not me." I capped it off, drinking too quickly.

"You gave him a key." I was ready to shoot back with "I have a key to his place too" but that would only annihilate any future argument I might try to prove. "I'm going to warm up."

It seemed useless to warm up when we'd spent most of the day on our feet, contorting our bodies to a rhythm and then another. It wasn't stupid, though. I'd been warming up before Robbie interrupted me.

"I'm going to the bathroom."

"Okay! If you take too long I'll go look for you. Make sure you didn't fall down the drain…" Robbie's voice fell away with each hurried step I took. I was so uptight I didn't even notice the person exiting the boys' bathroom.

I slipped, just barely managing to grip the threshold.

"Sorry," I mumbled quickly, glancing at the boy with wavy dark chocolaty hair.

He opened his mouth but I was gone before he could utter words. I slammed a stall door. To top things off, the imminent headache that foretold my period would hit tonight or tomorrow morning still hadn't blown over. Things worked differently when you were on the pill, once you stopped taking it for a week, that's when your period came and mine always came three or four days after I stopped taking it.

Robbie was already doing floor work once I got back to the studio. I shut the door before lying near him. Practicing contemporary dance meant perfecting many techniques, Graham being one of the most important. There was nothing but our breathing filling the empty space as we tightened core muscles. Every year, Juilliard New Dances were held; each year worked with a different choreographer. This was our third year, it would be our third time performing. Lara Devoe, our choreographer, was molding us in contemporary dance which borrowed from several styles, such as ballet, modern and jazz.

We worked on the routine for two hours before calling it a day. I wanted to go home and just sleep for a good ten years, but I was meeting Mom for dinner. I stuffed my ears with soft guitar and piano solos as I rode the subway train. The text Gabriel sent last night was still unanswered; he wanted to know if I'd gotten in trouble for being late.

I snorted, shifting the sports' bag on my lap.

I equated the phrase 'getting into trouble' with a fourteen-year-old who'd been caught smoking weed by a teacher on school grounds. Gareth Holland's face fluttered across my mind as I recalled that afternoon; the principal managed to drag Gabe's father from work and into a meeting about Gabriel's 'concerning behavior'. Obviously, I hadn't been at that meeting, but I'd sat with Gabriel for hours until his Dad arrived. I didn't brag outright but waiting had been a milestone, since Gareth scared the bejesus out of me. Most times, the man was downright devoid of emotion; his face could be the standard for a mannequin factory. But on that late afternoon, once he stepped outside our principal's office, he'd grabbed his son's arm, forcefully pulling a spooked Gabriel to his feet and whispered:

"Do you have any idea what I've had to reschedule because of you? I don't have time to deal with your stupid rule infringements, Gabriel. If you want to smoke the least you can do is be smart about it." Gareth's voice had been quiet but chilling. "I told your principal that if you're caught smoking anything, ever again, he should kick you off the Lacrosse team and if that doesn't work, he can expel you. Maybe then your mother will see how much she's ruined you."

Gabriel had barely managed to string a sentence together before being released. Shoved. Gareth had marched away, having completely overlooked a younger me.

Gabriel was never caught smoking on school property again because at some point, Trip started taking the fall every time Gabe broke the rules. Until this day neither of them explained to me why that was, I simply knew it was around the same time Thomas' fame as a heartbreaking bad-boy began.

As I finished climbing the stairs and navigated my way across a crowded street, I couldn't bury the memory of a fourteen-year-old Gabriel rubbing his forearm, staring after his father in abject terror or how by the end of the day that same arm showed an ugly bruise.

The minute I walked through the door I was greeted by JJ, Jitters' successor; while our old house cat had been a white fur ball, JJ was a mismatched kitty; she had white fur with random brown spots on her torso and paws—except for the left front paw, that one was white.

"Hey girl," I said shutting the door. JJ watched me intently sitting on a fur rug. "Where's our Mom?"

JJ sauntered over once I hung my jacket on the hanger. She bumped her head against my legs. I bent to pick her up. JJ wasn't much of a speaker, it was rare for her to meow. We got JJ when I was sixteen, two years after Jitters died. Mom liked to argue JJ liked her best, but JJ's one true love was me. The only reason why she wasn't living with me was because it wouldn't be fair to the cat; she would spend every day alone and I was already having a hard time just taking care of me.

After a quick inspection of the apartment, I realized we were alone. I sat on the leather couch, leaving JJ to curl in my lap as I dialed Mom. It went to voicemail.

"She's in a late meeting, isn't she?" I asked JJ. She was busy stroking a paw across an ear. I could go for a nap. I sent Mom a text, letting her know I was home. JJ jumped to the floor with feline grace as I got up.

Stepping into my old bedroom was like walking inside a giant time-capsule. The same four-poster bed with curtains at each corner, all of them nearly transparent, braided with strings of LED lights that sparked a white glow once I flicked the switch near my bedside table. I eyed the three parallel shelves above the desk, littered with books I hadn't read since my early teenage years, I scarcely remembered what they were about. Next to my stereo was the ottoman where I used to duct tape cigarette packs. Luckily, my mother wasn't one of those helicopter parents who raided their children's stuff.

I grabbed the blanket at the foot of bed and curled up. A weight pushed against my feet; JJ making her little nest was the last thing I remembered before I succumbed to the tiredness lining my muscles. I awoke to the sound of jingling keys. I opened my eyes just as Mom entered the bedroom. JJ's ears perked but she didn't get up, curling in on herself some more.

"Hi," I mumbled through a mess of tangled hair. How did this still happen with short hair? Go figure. I shoved the brown mess into place, tucking it behind my ears.

Mom kissed my temple, sitting beside me.

"Sorry, I had a last-minute meeting. I don't think there's going to be time for a Master Chef meal. How does chicken salad sound?"

I smiled, sleep still weighing my eyes.

"Awesome."

Mom chuckled.

"Alright. I'll get right on that, honey. Do you want egg?"

I nodded, "I can boil the eggs."

"You look tired, Sharon…"

"Same to you, Mom." Mom knew better than to argue. My mother was the epitome of hard work. She organized galas, charity events, select parties. Mom had a gift for juggling things, including time. Growing up, she'd always split her attention between me, work and taking care of Grandma when she lost my Grandad. "JJ, let's go cook some eggs!" I called as I left the room.

Mom's personality was a stark opposite of Gabriel's father.

This was the same apartment from my childhood. Mom could afford a larger one, not that this was small, but she liked it here. She enjoyed coming home to something simpler. I didn't consider us rich, not like Trip's family or Gabe's—I doubted anyone in New York was as rich as Gabe's father, though. Mom preferred to spend money on vacations, my education, on the occasional shopping spree or expensive dinners than she did on big, flashy apartments and cars.

We ate in the dinning room. Mom was the opposite of me when it came to watching TV while eating. To her, a meal was sacred.

"I thought you might want to go," she stated, explaining a high society party she was working on. "It's on a Friday night. It's been a while since I've had you as my plus one."

"I am a great date." I flaunted a grin reaching my glass.

"The last time I took Cassie she fell asleep. She insists that her eyes were just 'resting'." Mom chuckled.

"You have to cut her some slack, Mom. Cassie has two eleven-year-olds." I knew from experience Brandon and Kyle weren't the easiest pair to look after, since I used to babysit for Cassie. The little rascals had been trouble at seven, I couldn't imagine what they were like now. "Remember when they were into magic? I really thought Kyle cut off Brandon's finger."

Mom's expression became grim.

"You were still cleaning up the fake blood when Cassie and I arrived." Yep. "Cassie and Mitch have their work cut out for them." Mom's sarcasm was palpable.

We cleaned up in a jiffy. While Mom was making tea, I sat on the couch, surveying the old photographs sitting on the large entertainment unit. It was either of me, Mom and I or grandma and grandad. The first time Gabe came over, he'd asked about my Dad; I'd shrugged and told him I didn't have one. That wasn't true, not in the biological sense, anyway. Everyone had a mother and a father. My so-called father was a cautionary tale. He vanished after knocking up his nineteen-year-old girlfriend.

I took a cab back to my place entertaining myself with stealing glances at the pouring sky. Clashes of white streaked across it. In the distance, above the honking, booming could be heard.

I leaned against the headboard, incapable of sleep. Being in my old bedroom dredged up memories of what Gabe and I used to do there until Mom found his cigarettes… That boy should've found a better hiding spot than my sock drawer. The first boom-clap of thunder broke somewhere above West Side and my eyes lurched to my phone.

Was he all alone?

Mom got me new pajamas. They were super cuddly! I could curl up in a corner and fall asleep without trying. But Gabriel was going to be here soon. I was following Mom around the house as she talked on the phone with grandma. I climbed on the couch; I kicked my legs feeling excited. Sleepovers with Gabriel were the best because he knew how to make forts! Sometimes we played princes and princesses; Jitters played the dragon. Or whatever monster Gabriel came up with. He knew a lot about monsters and creepy stories. Sometimes he read me scary ones... I didn't really like them.

I ran to my room after Mom asked if it was tidy. I grabbed Taffy from the downstairs bed. Taffy was my favorite stuffed animal; she was a giraffe. I climbed the bunk beds' stairs and left Taffy on the tallest bed. I put my bag and ballet shoes inside the closet, grabbed the iPod from the windowsill and hid it in a desk drawer. I glared at the room with pride. Nothing was out of place.

The doorbell sent me racing across the hallway. I almost knocked into Mom's legs when she stepped into our foyer.

"No running. What if you slip? You could get hurt and..."

"I wouldn't be able to dance." I finished for her.

Mom's disapproving look shifted into a tired head shake.

"You're becoming too smart for your own good."

"Smart like you!" I cheered as she grabbed the keys from the tall, round table to unlock the front door. Mom looked through the peep hole. I still couldn't reach it. "I want to be taller."

Mom chuckled as she pulled the white door open. I stayed behind Mom. My stomach was doing a strange twisty thing. It was the same when my ballet instructor watched me. I was always afraid to get yelled at. It meant I needed to practice harder. Sometimes my feet got tired, they even got cuts and blisters... It hurt, and it was yucky. But this wasn't because of ballet, it was because I hadn't seen Gabriel in a month.

Gabriel tilted his head, looking right at me. My shoulders jumped at the friendly smile. The strange feeling started to fade. It wasn't Alexandra or his nanny standing behind Gabriel; it was a man. He was dressed in a dark suit and his hair was blond, but not as bright as Gabriel's. Mom held out a hand like she did with all business clients.

"Hello, I'm Olivia Stone."

"Gareth Holland," the man with a deep voice said. "I'm running a bit late for a dinner..."

"Of course! Come in, Gabriel."

Mom stepped aside and my friend practically scrambled to get in. He was held back by a heavy hand on his shoulder. Gabriel glanced at the man. Was he Gabriel's father? They had the same last name. The man handed Gabriel a backpack.

"Thank you." Gabriel mumbled quietly before hurrying towards me. I did my best not to jump as the man's eyes flickered to me before returning to Mom.

"I'll send someone for Gabriel tomorrow afternoon, as agreed."

Mom nodded, exchanging polite, short words with this Gareth. His eyes flickered to Gabriel one last time before he turned, walking away. Mom shut the door.

I noticed Gabriel was eye-level with me. "How are you so big already? I haven't gotten any taller."

"My Mom says I hit a growth sprout."

Mom burst out laughing. She reached out, to take Gabriel's bag—it looked heavy—and ruffled his hair. I giggled at the mess; Gabriel's cheeks became pink.

"It's not 'sprout', Gabriel. It's a growth spurt. S-P-U-R-T." She corrected, spelling out the like she always did for me when I got them wrong. I peeked at my friend; his cheeks were red now.

I poked one cheek.

"You're blushing." I teased, giggling.

Gabriel's lips puckered.

"I'm not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

He opened his mouth, then shut it. He beamed at me, puffing out his chest.

"Whatever. I'm gonna be taller than you!" he dodged my shove, taking off in a run. Mom called out loudly that it was 'going' not 'gonna' and "no running!" but we didn't listen; Gabriel dived into my bedroom and then we were running in circles.

"You're not going to be taller!"

"I am!" he laughed, breaking the circle pattern by jumping onto my windowsill. I stopped, watching Gabriel sway on his feet just as the dark sky became illuminated by pretty whites and blues. A little later, the sound of thunder rung out. Gabriel waved his arms around like crazy but lost his footing. I gasped as he fell on his back.

I dropped to my knees beside him. My hands shook as I reached for his shoulders, gripping them.

"Are you okay?" Gabriel's blue eyes blinked up at me. He nodded, wincing. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He pushed with his elbows. I inspected the back of Gabriel's head, checking for any gooey red liquid. There was nothing but pale blond hair, though. My chest emptied. I hit his shoulder. "What?"

"You scared me!"

Gabriel's face shifted from pouty to guilty.

"Oh," he crossed his legs. His mouth twisted, "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

Mom was right. Running was dangerous. Gabriel could've gotten really hurt; maybe he fell because he got dizzy! I'd been dizzy when I first started ballet.

"It's okay. Just don't do it again."

"Okay."

We went to find Mom because Gabriel had something in his backpack that he wanted to show me. My mother was on the phone again, talking to grandma. We found Gabriel's bag in the living room. Mom saw us and gave an apologetic smile.

"Is your Mom working?"

I shook my head, "She's talking with my grandma. She's been really lonely since my grandad went away."

Gabriel's eyebrows drew together.

"Where did he go?"

I paused.

"He... died." Mom told me lots of kids didn't understand what death was. I knew it made people sad because you never got to see dead people again. "Do you know what that means?" Gabriel nodded. We didn't talk for a moment. Gabriel looked uncomfortable. Like a lot of people had at grandpa's funeral. So, I did what Mom would've done, "Was that guy your Dad?"

Gabriel reached for the backpack's zipper, nodding. He looked very focused on opening the bag.

"Your Dad looks scary."

Gabriel shrugged. A blur of white rushed inside my bedroom. A ball of fur collided with me; Jitters pushed his head against my arm, wanting to be petted.

"Say hello to Gabriel." I shoved him in Gabe's face. Jitters meowed softly, like he always did in Gabriel's presence. "I don't know why Jitters likes you so much. He hasn't seen you in forever." I protested.

Gabriel scratched Jitters under the chin; the cat purred loudly.

"You haven't seen me. You still like me." I almost dropped my cat. With a smug look, he said, "You're blushing."

"Shut up." I placed Jitters on the floor. Instead of disappearing, he climbed into my lap.

After dinner, Gabe and I were sitting on the floor of my bedroom. Couch pillows were the walls of our fort, a blanket was tossed over them and Mom got us thick blankets to put on the floor. I was in my fluffy pajamas. Gabriel was wearing flannel pajamas. I was pointing a flashlight at Gabe's book. Gabriel hadn't wanted to play pretend tonight. He was a little different, like he was distracted by something. At dinner, Mom asked him if he didn't like her roast beef because he'd barely eaten.

The storm got louder once Mom told us to go to sleep. I liked the sound of it, the storm made me feel cozier and warmer. I hugged Taffy closer. I didn't know if I had slept, I was confused and sleepy… My bed kept shaking. It wasn't like a big earthquake, those things that made the ground shake, but it was annoying. I slid to the edge, peeking down at my bunk buddy. Gabriel's eyes met mine thanks to the Night Light Mom always left on.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"Why aren't you?"

"Because you keep shaking the bed!" I hissed softly. Gabriel became upset. He slid closer to the wall. I couldn't see him. Loud thunder clapped outside. I saw sheets move, like they were being pulled quickly. I squinted at the lower bed; I leaned away from the edge. Gabriel head been acting weird all night and… I opened my mouth to gasp but slapped a hand over it. Biting a lip, I went down the wooden stairs. I looked at the white pile that was my friend. I reached out, poking it—him. There was a grumble as he fought to get free from the covers; his blond head peeked out. "You look like a nun."

"Go away." He ordered in a bad mood.

Our eyes stayed glued before another loud thunder noise made Gabriel jump and curl up.

"You're afraid of thunder?" He looked angry and embarrassed. "Why?" I asked.

Gabriel turned his back on me. I could be warm, sleeping and instead I was out of my bed and Gabriel was acting like a little brat. I wanted to stomp my foot, but they were achy and that would be childish. I wasn't a little kid anymore. The mattress dipped as I sat; I wriggled under the covers. Gabriel twisted around very fast. His eyes grew big and he backed into the wall.

"What are you doing?"

I put a finger against my lips, "Shh!" I crossed my arms. "You're scared, so I'm sleeping with you." He looked at me as if I was crazy. "I used to sleep with my Mom when I got bad dreams."

"Why?"

I frowned, "Because I didn't feel scared anymore. Mom wouldn't let anything hurt me."

With the bad lighting, I still saw him swallow when another loud noise hit. It was weird seeing him afraid, those horror books he liked never scared him. How was thunder scary? I reached for the hand gripping the covers.

"Don't be scared. It's just loud." I whispered. "What do you do when you get scared?"

"I… I'm never scared." Liar. "My father says it's stupid to be scared of… storms and stuff." His Dad sounded mean. Was my Dad mean too? Mom said he was irresponsible.

"Your Dad's stupid." I stated without thinking. Whoops. I bit the inside of my cheek; Mom wouldn't be happy if she knew…

Gabriel didn't look mad. He laughed once, then looked shy about it.

"I like being your friend." I smiled at that. I tugged Gabriel to lie down. He was still pressed into the wall, but at least his head was on the pillow.

I took a long breath, staring into his pretty eyes. We were sharing the same pillow. The only things touching were our hands; my left hand gripping his right hand. I'd never shared a bed with anyone but Mom. This was strange, but Gabriel's eyes began to fall shut even with the loud booms outside. I felt him squeeze my hand a couple of times before my eyes became heavy.

I was still staring at the phone when another thunderclap—louder this time—rumbled outside. Gabriel was almost twenty-one and he was still terrified of storms. It was one of those inexplicable phobias.

With a heavy heart, I laid down on my side. Robbie's advice was like a hounding poltergeist. I couldn't imagine what life would be like without Gabe in it. He'd been a part of it for twelve years and we'd shared so much… Too much.

I rolled across the bed in a blaze of frustration.