GABRIELLA
Jake looked like a GQ magazine model with his abs and muscles on display. Every woman who walked by thought they could check him out discretely from behind the lenses of their sunglasses, but I saw their mouths fall open when they saw him. I saw them bow their heads together to whisper about how hot he was.
And every time, I burned with this weird, excited, proud feeling that I was the woman sitting next to him. I wanted to feel like this all the time, but our day was reaching an end. Soon the sun would go down, and the night would get cold, and I didn’t want to be shivering while we packed up our setup.
I stood up and brushed sand from my ass that had been sprayed up onto the towels by playing kids earlier. “Well, do you think we should call it?”
Jake lay on his back with his sunglasses on and his forearm draped over his forehead. He didn’t answer me.
I inched closer.
Had he fallen asleep on me? We were literally just having a conversation about Theo and Banner and their sneaker company and how well things were going. It still sounded like everything was in the beginning stages, but Jake was more optimistic than ever that this might be the best investment he’d ever made. How had he drifted off seconds after we were just talking?
At first, I snickered to myself, but the longer I watched him, the more engrossed I became in him. He had always been handsome, but in sleep he was vulnerable, relaxed, and less severe. There was no permanent scowl folding his forehead. His lips weren’t turned down in a grim frown like they always were. His jaw was relaxed, his skin smooth, his hair messy from sweat and the grit of the beach.
He looks like a fallen angel, I thought.
Then I shook my head.
Shut the fuck up with that shit, Gabi. You’re not a hopeless romantic who compares men to angels. Get a hold of yourself.
I cleared my throat, hoping he would stir.
He did not.
So, I decided to wrap myself up in a towel and sit back down beside him. Surely, a man like him didn’t get his eight hours of sleep every night. I’d bet a good chunk of money that he had sleep problems, insomnia even, with all the work and stress in his life.
And the demons in his past.
I still didn’t really know where he came from or what his life had been like back in Texas, but it couldn’t have been very good if his last birthday party was when he was six years old. My heart ached for the little boy he used to be. What had he been subjected to at the hands of his father? Had the abuse been physical? Mental? Emotional? Part of me really wanted to know, but a bigger part trusted that ignorance was bliss and not knowing was a blessing.
Half an hour later, a pair of dads and their two kids walked past our towels. The younger child was crying out of exhaustion at the end of a long beach day, and the sound woke Jake with a start. He sat up straight, took off his sunglasses, and peered blurrily around at our surroundings before his dark stare landed on me.
I smiled. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Shit.”
“You weren’t out for long. Twenty minutes or so,” I lied, downplaying how long it had been.
The sun was setting, painting the Golden Gate Bridge pink instead of red.
“You should have woken me,” he said in a voice thick and groggy from sleep.
Yep, he definitely needed that nap.
I shrugged and got to my feet. “It was nice to sit and enjoy the view and let you rest.”
I did not mention that the view I was talking about was him.
His gaze wandered to the bridge. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
I never took my eyes off him. “Magnificent, really.”
He got to his feet and began helping me pack up our towels and beach items. It didn’t take very long. We walked back up the beach to his car, which we loaded up. I kept one of the towels with me and wore it around my shoulders as we drove.
“I’m kind of bummed the day is over,” he said, eyes fixed on the road before us.
“I was just thinking the same thing. It went by so fast.”