Chapter 7 Chapter Seven

Chapter 7 Chapter Seven


I giggled nervously, emboldened by the alcohol and my lack of filter tonight. “C’mon… you can’t just ignore that. I saw you. The way you kept glancing at me… while kissing her.”
He let out a quiet exhale, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “I wasn’t… thinking clearly,” he admitted, voice low, steady, but firm. “And I wasn’t… trying to.”
I raised an eyebrow, stepping a little closer. “Not trying to what? Look at me? Or… notice me?” My words tumbled out, braver and bolder than I meant, and I felt my cheeks burn even as the tipsy haze made it hard to care.
Gavin’s gaze held mine, serious but careful. “Both,” he said finally, the word carrying more weight than anything he’d said all night. “But it doesn’t mean what you think.”
I smirked despite myself, teetering slightly on my unsteady feet. “Then maybe you should explain. Because I’m not exactly making this easy to ignore, either.”
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his damp hair, and for a moment, the quiet night seemed to stretch between us, charged with all the unspoken things neither of us wanted to say outright. His protective energy, his constant awareness of me all night, everything—suddenly impossible to ignore, and suddenly… very, very clear.
I stumbled again on the uneven sidewalk, swaying slightly from the tipsy haze, and let out an exasperated laugh. “Gavin, just say it already! Admit it—what are you hiding?”
He stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing, jaw tight. For a moment, he just stared at me, exhaling slowly through his nose. Then, with a sharp exhale and a noticeable flare of frustration, he finally snapped.
“Fine!” he barked, voice low, rough, and laced with annoyance. “I like you! Happy now?”
I froze, wide-eyed, teetering on my feet. “Wait… what?” I squeaked, hands flailing slightly as I tried not to fall over.
He ran a hand through his damp hair, exasperated, pacing a small circle as he continued, “I’ve liked you forever, Ari! Even when we were kids, even when you were annoying me to no end—hell, especially then!”
I blinked, too stunned to respond, words tangled in my tipsy haze. My stomach fluttered, my legs felt weak, and I nearly tripped again, catching myself on a fence post.
“I… I don’t even know what to say,” I admitted, voice shaking, flustered, heart hammering.
Gavin’s eyes softened slightly, though the edge of irritation still lingered. “Then don’t say anything,” he muttered, stepping closer, the heat of his presence suddenly overwhelming. “Just… know it. I can’t keep pretending, Ari. I’ve never not liked you. And honestly? I’m pissed I had to.”
I laughed nervously, wobbling again, clutching my bag to keep my balance. “Well… that’s… a lot to take in,” I mumbled, trying to hide just how flustered I was.
Gavin’s lips twitched in the faintest, reluctant smile, his gaze unwavering. Protective, frustrated, and completely honest—finally letting everything he’d kept in all these years spill out in one raw, furious confession.
The walk to my house was quiet, the distant sounds of the party fading behind us. I shuffled along, still tipsy, still trying to process what he’d just said. Gavin matched my pace, silent but alert, his presence steady and almost unnervingly intense.
When we reached my doorstep, he didn’t hesitate. He stepped inside with me, just far enough to make sure I was steady. “Sit down for a second,” he instructed, voice low but firm, eyes scanning me like he’d do anything to protect me.
I collapsed onto my bed, letting out a soft sigh. “I think I’m okay,” I murmured, still feeling the buzz from the alcohol and the overwhelming confession.
Gavin crouched down beside me, just long enough to tuck the blanket around me neatly. His hands were careful, precise, and I couldn’t stop the small shiver that ran through me. “You need to rest,” he said, voice almost gruff, but not unkind. “Don’t move around too much.”
I blinked up at him, heart still hammering. “Thanks…” I whispered, unable to think of anything else to say.
He straightened, glancing at the door. “I should go,” he muttered, voice clipped, like he couldn’t linger even if he wanted to.
Before he could leave, I acted on impulse, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. “Gavin… wait.” My voice trembled, barely audible. “I… I feel the same way. About you.”
He froze for a heartbeat, fingers tightening briefly around mine, but then he shook his head slightly and pulled his wrist free. Without saying another word, he turned and walked toward the door.
I sat there, stunned and flustered, watching the doorway close behind him. The room felt impossibly quiet, and my chest ached with a mix of frustration, longing, and the dizzying reality of everything that had just happened.
Morning light filtered through my curtains, soft and warm, but my head throbbed mercilessly. I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead, trying to force fragments of last night into focus. The party, the fire, the drinks… pieces floated in and out of my memory, but everything after leaving the beach was a blur.
A soft knock at my door pulled me from my haze. “Ari? You up?” Josh called from the hallway. “Mom’s making breakfast, and… uh, are you okay?”
I sat up slowly, feeling unsteady, and shook my head. “Yeah… I think so,” I mumbled, voice thick and tired. “I… don’t really remember much after leaving the beach.”
Josh leaned against the doorframe, scratching the back of his neck. “You left with Gavin, right? Just… walked home or something?”
I nodded slowly, trying to recall anything about the walk. “Yeah… we just… went back,” I said softly. My chest tightened slightly, but the details were gone.
Josh grinned faintly, clearly relieved. “Alright, cool. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost or—uh—anything weird happen.” He shrugged casually, oblivious to the tension or anything more serious.
I smiled weakly. “Nope… nothing I remember,” I replied, lying back against the pillows.
“Good,” Josh said, nodding. “Eat something and hydrate. Don’t do anything stupid today.”
I laughed softly, the haze still thick in my brain. “Yeah… I’ll try.”
Josh ruffled my hair before heading off, leaving me alone with the quiet room and the strange, vague pull of memory. Gavin had been there… I remembered that much. But everything else—his words, his presence,—it was gone, swallowed by the fog of alcohol and exhaustion.
And even without the memory, a small, persistent flutter in my chest reminded me that last night had mattered. I just didn’t know how—or why—yet.
Gavin pulled his phone from his pocket, thumbs hovering over the screen. He stared at Ari’s contact for a moment, debating whether he should reach out. A part of him wanted to ask about last night outright—but another part knew better. He needed to test the waters first, see how much she actually remembered.
Better safe than… whatever that would’ve been, he muttered to himself, finally typing a short message:
“Hey… made it home okay?”
Within seconds, his phone buzzed. He glanced down and saw her reply:
“Yeah… I think so? I don’t really remember much after leaving the beach lol”
Gavin froze, reading the words again. His chest tightened. She… didn’t remember anything. Not the walk home, not the quiet moments, not the confession.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath, frustration mingling with a strange pang of longing. She had no idea how much he’d just admitted—or how much he’d been holding back for years.
He stared out at her house, watching the curtains sway slightly with the morning breeze, his protective instinct kicking in. She didn’t remember, but he hadn’t forgotten. And he wasn’t about to let her wander through the day unaware of everything he felt—though now, he’d have to figure out how to approach it without overwhelming her.
Gavin typed another message, carefully neutral:
“Get some water and try to eat something. Don’t overdo it today.”
Her quick reply made him smirk faintly:
“Will do… thanks, neighbor 😉”
He shook his head, half amused, half annoyed. Neighbor. That’s all she saw him as for now. But h
e’d fix that—eventually.
Or that’s what he thinks.