gabriella

Lips parted, though only silence seemed to attend as Rhysand considered her for a moment longer. As if he could gather all he needed to know from her stare, the male held it, tracing over the warmth in her eyes. It was an unexpected interest, but the best things in life were just that, unexpected. “I say a lot of things,” A lazy smirk teased his features then, the corners of his lips dancing upwards yet not fully in a crooked angle. “–to a lot of people now that you mention it.” Shadowed hues shifted then, trailing after the bartender as they acted to take their leave, only once they’d been fully left alone again did he shift his focus back. Not that he’d been distracted, no, something in him promised that it’d be rather hard to be distracted in her presence.

At least he still had a flair for the climactic, which only brought a wordless satisfaction onto the male. “You’re very beautiful,.” An artless fact, as he shifted to face her more pressingly. “I’m sure you’re aware, but hearing it aloud, that’s nearly just as mattering.” But at the mention of her brother, Rhys found a budding tension between his shoulders. The topic of any family invariably seemed to admit for that predilection as he chuckled softly. “I’m my own man, thus, I like to think of myself like no one.”

Though that was only half true, he was sure the response may only make her wonder even more about him. “You act as if I might want anyone to know me, really know me.” Echoing her words, he arched a brow, though already he was releasing his drink to the action of the bartender and proceeding to stand. “Patience was never my virtue.” A promise and a fact as he took just one step to the side and offered the woman his hand, lips caressed together as he waited for the pressure of her own against his palm.

It was only once they had approached the dance floor, that Rhysand extended his arm out, leading her back in slowly as a hand rested just at the nape of her neck, index finger ghosting her pulse. “So Gabriella, are you just anyone?”

— 

Effortless laughter, warm and soft, filled the space between them. “Of course you do,” the words were in company with a shake of her head and a playful roll of eyes that would stray only to return, as if it were impossible to look away for too long for fear of missing the infinitesimal expressions that teased his features. They gave nothing away of his thoughts, and by his own admission, she knew it was intended. Make no mistake, Gabriella was certain he was aware of the intrigue he stirred. It was his next statement, however, that would cause a raise of her brows, lesser lip catching upon her teeth as she ignored the fact that surely her cheeks were pooling with color.  He wasn’t wrong, the attentions of others never hard to attain as she grew through various stages in life. But, somehow hearing the sentiment fall from his lips — it echoed, a slivered crack left upon her carefully crafted walls. Fuck. “Something else I’m sure you say often, to countless others.” She’d combat, the twist of lip corners pulling that easy smile back into place, as though the simple compliment had yielded no effect over the woman. 

If there were other words to be said, the stayed upon her tongue silently as she slipped her hand into his. It wasn’t until he pulled her back to him on the dance floor that she found her voice once more. “Don’t you?” she’d contest, not unaware of the shrinking proximity between the two. “Doesn’t everyone? It’s practically the human condition.” She was unsure he heard or perhaps carried no interest in answering as her unattended hand came to rest softly against his chest and she began to move with the music. When he spoke again, it left her without response. But only seconds passed as she carefully weighed her return against her tongue, mulling over his question before finally answering. “Perhaps, I should be ‘just anyone’ where you’re concerned,” honey orbs, cast beneath thick lashes, would lift with a cant of her head to meet the enigmatic gaze in which kept her in his arms, despite the very words that had just fallen from parted lips, ripe with challenge. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—” the words would tumble out of Gabriella’s mouth before she could think them otherwise. When her mother had sent her to the winery to pick up the several cases she’d ordered for the Cardoso’s weekend festivities, Gabby had thought surely she was out of reach of the city’s motorcycle club. The very one that seemed to infiltrate almost every aspect of her life lately. But, before her stood the president. She couldn’t save the roll the found her amber hues before looking around the room, hoping to spot an employee. “Is there anywhere you’re not?” By ‘you’re’ she meant the club, but it might as well have been Roman himself. “You seem to have your hands in everything.” Between her brother’s membership and her own forced affiliation, it was clear that in Gabriella Cardoso, Roman didn’t have the biggest fan. 

Days seemed to bleed together lately, one monotonous shift at the other. Wasn’t there something to be said about the calm before the storm? Was this that? Even if it was, the world continued to spin. Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday. Before she could even blink, the weekend had almost rolled back around. It was then, early Thursday morning as she dressed for work, that her phone chimed an unwelcome reminder bringing a roll of the woman’s eyes before she swiped it away from her screen.

Resolved, she would make two stops before heading to the hospital. The first, Perky Planet, where she secured two hot coffees and a selection of various pastries. If she was to grovel and beg, she had to come with goodies in hand. The second stop would be to Red Trail, where the jingle of bells sounded her arrival. “Matteo?” she’d call out anyway, peering around the displays until she found him. “Coffee and treats,” she’d grin, shaking the bag in his direction before moving to place it on the counter. “And I know exactly how you can repay me for being so incredibly thoughtful and generous.” Her grin would grow as she reached into the bag and pulled out one of the blueberry muffins for herself. 

Touche. “Only the lucky ones,” Rhysand counters, regarding her with a deliberate stare. “–yet here I am never having been more excited to be considered different.” Caressing his lips against the rim of his glass, he welcomed the burning contents as he lingered in its resolution. It’d been a while since another had so easily tempted his nature, drawing out a remark or two, yet it seemed the brunette in front of him did so without a considered effort. In so many words, it was impressive. “The man is fortunate to have walked away with both hands still attached.” If Rhys had been there, he’d hardly be in such a condition. 

“They all maintain the temperament and maturity of children, I assure you.” It wasn’t much of a surprise with the swelling tension in the bar, the storm erupting outside and the blend of hard liquor being poured that those around them were acting out. It truly was a prescription for trouble, and Rhysand could only smirk in response as he weighed her words. “People see what I want them to see, and yes, I like it that way.” Raising his own glass towards the woman, he signaled towards the bartender for another round. “I’ll buy the drinks if you owe me a dance.”

* / —

“I bet you say that to all of the women,” she’d quip, gaze focused upon him as she turned his own words against him, the corners of her lips curling slightly.  It was a funny thing — to carry on a seemingly carefree conversation with someone with which she’d intended to keep her guard up around. And yet, with that unreadable look upon his face, Gabriella was anxious to know the depths of his thoughts, even if for just that very moment. 

As much of a distraction as it was a crutch, the rim of her glass found her lips once more. Another swallow gone as she willed amber hues to return to the group of men who so proudly wore their affiliation on their backs. Away from the bottomless pools that were Rhysand Arslan. “As obvious as it is expected,” she’d reply, her troublesome, devil-may-care brother coming to mind. The reason she was in this mess at all. “If they’re anything like Antonio, that is.” He was unmistakably absent tonight and the brunette felt just a twinge of worry settle in her stomach. Was it another dangerous run, one that could turn wrong at any moment? Gabby was quickly becoming acquainted with that fact that it was simply the live led when a part of the club. Not that it eased her mind at all. 

Rhys’s voice cut through, pulling attention back to him. “Sounds complicated and kind of lonely,” the words came naturally, perhaps too candid, too honest. But, for Gabby, there was no other way. “Like no one would know you. Not really.” Gabriella, on the other hand, was an open book. Her emotions often unmistakable as they danced across her face. Her thoughts tumbling from parted lips, unfiltered. Raising her glass in synchronization with his, the woman finished off the contents of her drink. “And here I didn’t place you as man who could be found on the dance floor.” Another easy, almost involuntary smile as she returned the glass to the bar top. “You collecting now or later?” 

“I come bearing gifts.” The brunette’s painted red lips curled into a smile as she offered the second beer resting in her hand. She wasn’t sure how she ended up — or more aptly, what had convinced her to show up — to The Old Holmes House, but there she stood, donning a simple knitted, white camisole and high-waist, washed denim jeans. Angelic didn’t quite fit, but it was close enough. “I haven’t been to a party like this since I dragged you and Matteo to that Alpha Chi Omega party back in college.” Amber hues drifted the crowd, watching the ebb and flow of people dancing, drinking, and trying to talk above the thrumming bass that bounced off the walls. Excitement could be tasted in the air as people continued to pour into the venue. “Not that you need much convincing,” she laughed, bumping into his shoulder as she spoke. 

GABRIELLA CARDOSO  ➜  an aesthetic.

With a half considered glass of whiskey in one hand, and flexed fist in the other, Rhysand suspected he was in for a prolonged evening. With the brewing storm outside looming over the residents of his old town, it seemed like many had taken up residence in the Tipsy Crow much like himself. At least this way he could pass the time with an observant eye, following the many unfamiliar faces during their common activities. Not that he found much interest in any of them, considering it seemed not much had changed in his years away and it only brought forth a righteous sense of nostalgia in his chest. One that bubbled and threatened to overflow at every turn.

So with a heaved exhale, he downed the rest of his drink and moved towards the bar. It was only at the retort of another that Rhysand was drawn out of his own head, dark hues shifting towards the woman. “I bet you say that to all the man.” Sliding up on the offered stool, he slid a twenty towards the bartender with a nod of his head. “But now you’ve got me curious, what worse company have you ever known?” Turning his full attention to the woman, he swept his gaze over her features. Noting the curves of her cheek, and the glowing appearance of her stare, the warmth enough to heat even the coldest of souls. Interesting. “And are they here tonight?”

“Do I come across the type to keep company with many men?” she’d counter, chocolate hues meeting unfathomable onyx over the rim of her glass. Bottomless pools that could surely stir trouble, if not simply manifest the inability to focus. Gabriella felt her own gaze level upon him, a marriage of amusement and intrigue dancing her features as she adjusted within the seat, her frame angled toward him only just noticeably. “I’d guess our definitions of worse exist on entirely different planes.” She raised a finger toward the bartender, locks of wavy brown hair falling over her shoulder as she turned her attention back to Rhys. “But, you could say that— the guy who felt the need to smack my ass two seconds after walking in— Definitely worse company,” Eyes flicked to a man standing, pool stick in hand, several feet behind the two aside one of the bar’s set of pool tables. “One of your guys, if I’m not mistaken.” 

With a clear dismissal of the man’s actions, she brought her second drink to her lips, silently welcoming the distracting warmth. “I’m willing to bet you have at least some semblance of self-control in that you’re not a complete ass. But,” the words hesitated on her lips for only a second before tumbling out.  “—you’re hard to read. I think you like it that way.” 

Matteo was happy to be out with Gabby for the night. He was incredibly stressed about things going at the store. he was barely keeping it afloat, and the things he was doing to do that, concerned him. He trusted his best friend, but he didn’t want to lose what his parents had spent their entire lives. He chuckled shaking his head at the brunette. “You know you can just order your own.” But he knew he ordered them just for her, because he knew she would want them more than he would.

He sipped his own beer shrugging his shoulders as she asked her question. “It’s still standing and its still mine, so good I guess.” He told her. “Things are that bad at the hospital?” He asked her.

*

“I could,” she nodded, amusement splayed across her features. “But, where’s the fun in that?” A second onion ring found its way into her fingers. That was one of the perks of having a best friend who knew you as well as they knew themselves — they knew the things you liked and they shared. 

She was in the middle of chewing, listening to Matteo talk when her brows furrowed together. “You sound worried,” she prompted, her optimistic nature coming into play only seconds later. “I’m sure the store will pull through, and if you need help, I’ll do whatever I can.” Admittedly, Gabby’s schedule tended to be jam-packed lately, but there were a select few for which she’d rearrange things, Matteo ranking top of the list. 

“It’s not that bad,” Gabby would answer regarding the hospital. “It’s stressful,” she’d say, knowing all too well she couldn’t mention that her services had now been tapped for the local motorcycle club, no matter how much she trusted the man before her. “But, I’m more stressed by Antonio.” The subject of her brother, and his involvement with the South Side Riders, was one she’d shared with Matteo, however, and she knew the subject was safe. “I just don’t understand how he got mixed up in it.” And now, by default, her too. 

Why wasn’t it easy to simply fast-forward through the night? When Ubers went back to normal prices and she could go ahead and make her hangover food? Olivia could hate herself in the morning but also tonight. She couldn’t hate herself twice for drinking too much. 

With the bartender ignoring patrons for people who tipped along the way, it was next to impossible to order another cocktail. “I understand that. I’m trying to just get through the night until I can get home. It’s way too fucking cold and I thought the weatherman was an idiot,” she responded. She shifted her bowl of almonds to sit between them as an offer to the woman beside her. When the bartender finally came back around, her mouth was full of almonds. “Old-Fashioned. Please.” 

It figured. If she was incoherent, she’d have to wait for the bartender to come back. “You’d think they’d have more than two people working tonight.”

*

Taking the nudge of the almond bowl as an invitation for company, Gabriella moved one seat closer to the other. “I’m just praying the hospital doesn’t call me in before I can claim intoxication as a viable excuse,” she’d answer with a laugh, scooping out a few almonds while waiting for her order. “I saw the weather reports,” and usually the young woman wasn’t the type to so brazenly ignore professional advice, “but, I just didn’t think it’d be this bad. Apparently, that’s what I get for thinking at all.” 

The bar was surprisingly teeming with life, much more than she’d expect with such severe storm warnings. It reminded her of the time she’d vacationed in Florida during hurricane season. The locals would continue about as if the sky wasn’t falling down on their heads. Gabby wasn’t sure if she could chalk it up to optimism or recklessness, in either case. 

“They probably thought people wouldn’t be dumb enough to come out in a blizzard,” came Gabby’s answer just as their drinks were placed before them. “To bad decisions,” she toasted, bringing the rim of the glass to her lips and taking a healthy swallow. The sting of alcohol lit her throat on fire, but the woman accepted it without notice. “Hey, I think I recognize you. You were a few grades above me in school.” Finally, extending a hand, she introduced herself. “I’m Gabby Cardoso.”  

STAY A WHILE...

For the past few years Gabriella has lived in a townhouse condo in Downtown, Burlington. She rents from her parents, refusing their offer for her to live in it for free for the duration of medical school and her residency. Gabby’s never been one to take hand-outs, but she’s fully aware that they don’t charge her nearly what they could be making on the place. The condo is only a short walk to UVM, significantly closer than her parents’ home in New North End.

@gabriclla​

Weston found himself walking down main street enjoying the feeling of the cold on his face. He had a long day at the firehouse and needed the moments to clear his mind before he had to be at dinner with the Dubois clan. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his family, but they didn’t understand or even try to understand when he had a bad day at work. Today had been one of those days, a rough call with a car accident was weighing on his shoulders. He glanced at the time and realized he had another hour before he needed to be at the Dubois family home and decided to stop in and grab a cup of coffee. What he wasn’t expecting was the brunette that stood in front of him crossing his path today.

“Gabby?” He said as he touched the shoulder softly. “Hey. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He said smiling.

*

Some days dragged, each minute felt as they slowly ticked by. Today, however, wasn’t one of those days. It seemed Gabriella’s shift at the hospital concluded before she could even blink. Maybe it was the steady movement, the undivided focus needed for each task at hand that allowed her to get out of her own mind. Either way, she had clocked in and out on auto-pilot, stopping at her favorite coffee shop before heading home.

The line moved quickly, and before long the warmth from the cup seeped into her hands as she moved along the counter to grab a few napkins. Gabby was pulled out of her own little world only after the gentle tap found her shoulder. It took less than a second for her to recognize the familiar frame that stood before her. “I could say the same for you,” she’d reply, an easy smile coming to her lips as she offered an open arm for a quick hug. Despite the two being labeled as exes, Gabriella was never disappointed to see him. “How’ve you been?” Chocolate hues scanned the coffeehouse, landing on an empty table. “I have a few minutes to catch up, unless you’re busy?” 

Company had ebbed and flowed as snow continued to layer the ground, the conditions growing increasingly worse as the minutes ticked by. Gabby had half a mind to venture out, but the news told her they were well into the brunt of the storm now. It would pass and she would be free. Until then, it seemed she would be confined to the four walls of The Tipsy Cow. 

There were worse places one could find themselves, she’d decided, bringing the tumbler to her mouth once more. The familiar burn of alcohol met her throat before she returned the (now empty) glass to the bar, amber hues scanning those as unfortunate as she to be stuck to wait out the snowy downfall. She was on the precipice of ordering another drink when the familiar frame of another came into view — “There’s worse company to be in, I suppose,” she said, knuckles tapping against the hard surface, offering the man the seat next to her.

“No, no, no,” Gabby cackled, waving her hands in disagreement. “If you don’t sing— no, belt Don’t Stop Believing when it comes on, we can’t be friends. No excuses,” she’d continue, “everyone knows the lyrics.” She was only two beers in and having a decent time at The Tipsy Cow, a recent frequent of hers. “I’m serious,” she continued, hardly able to catch her breath between the laughter that fell from her mouth. Determined to uphold her argument, the brunette turned her attention to the first person she could, the man sitting just on the other side of her. “Do you know the lyrics to Don’t Stop Believing?” she’d ask, playful grin stretching her lips.

Athena, a mixed-breed terrier Gabby had adopted from the local shelter, excitedly circled her legs, sniffing out the other dogs as they stood in line at Cosmic Grind. The pup had refused to let her owner skip their midmorning walk, barking to high heavens until Gabby had decided she’d brave the snow if only to cease the endless pestering. And now in line,  the dog’s energy proved unmatched. She was sociable — far more than Gabby, despite attempts to rein in her spirited runs. “Sorry,” Gabs apologized to the unfamiliar man behind her as Athena pawed at his shoes. “She’s been cooped up all morning, and well, even if she hadn’t Athena’s never met a stranger,” she explained, offering an easy smile as the line moved forward. “I promise if she pees on your shoes, I’ll pay for your coffee.”