#fuckingis

"I don’t want to fucking find you."

Another lie, as ridiculous as hers. 

Nigel watched Gabi go, the cheap door of his apartment rattling in its frame. Fuck her. Fuck her cockblocking fiancée who was making her sell her soul. But mostly fuck her.  

Even after the kitchen fire his apartment felt cold.

*

He learned pretty quickly that Gabi visited the same coffee shop every Tuesday, and after that she went back home. A few stakeout sessions later, Nigel had pieced together Charlie’s routine: early mornings, late nights, and a whole lot of time in between where Gabi was alone. A month had passed since they’d seen each other. 

Nigel crept into the building behind another tenant and gave the mailboxes a quick peruse. Gabi’s handwriting was on 2D. 

He took the stairs two at a time. 

Outside 2D, Nigel wavered. He hadn’t come empty-handed. Well, his hands were literally empty, but he’d brought her a gift all the same. 

But he was engrained into her soul. His name carved across her heart. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

When she’d arrived home that night, Charlie had been so worried. Asking her where she’d been and why she was so late home. Gabi had distracted him with kisses and her body. Had gently pressed him into their bed and made love to him until he stopped asking questions.

She cried herself to sleep.

A month had passed and still she could not forget, but Gabi had come to terms with the fact that it would be unlikely she would ever see Nigel again. And that was probably for the best. The sound of the door had her frowning, there was no one else in the city other than Charlie she knew. Unless he’d forgotten his keys again. With a huff she wandered over to the door and tugged it open.