8– Kayden

Fuck…

Fuck.

“Fuck!”

Rage surged up my chest and I swept my arm across the kitchen island, shoving everything onto the floor. 

Some shattered, others just clattered and clattered and clattered before everything went quiet. 

But my mind wouldn’t quiet down.

Everything inside my head was roaring in a way that made it impossible for me to breathe.

Do you want to know what I had actually planned for tonight? I planned to cook Gabrielle a home-cooked meal the moment we got back from the arena. I wanted us to sit down together, open an insanely expensive bottle of wine, and talk. Really talk.

I failed.

I was standing in the middle of a disaster, haunted by the ghost of my own stupidity.

Gabrielle was humiliated because of me. The knowing made an ache twist in my chest. 

I couldn’t even hold myself together enough to execute a simple dinner without ruining the food, destroying the kitchen, and burning my fingers because I kept grabbing hot metal handles with my bare hands like a fucking fool.

The soft patter of footsteps suddenly echoed down the hallway. A moment later, Gabrielle appeared in the kitchen doorway, her brows furrowed in concern.

She was wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, her hair damp from the shower, and her phone dangling from her fingertips.

“What happened?” she asked, and I could hear a genuine note of worry in her voice.

“Nothing.” I tightly shut my eyes, shaking my head to clear the frustration before looking back up at her. “I was just trying to make dinner. It went bad.”

“Why were you trying to make dinner?” she inquired, taking a cautious step into the messy kitchen.

“So that we could eat,” I ground out, my voice rougher than I intended. “Why else would I be standing over a stove?”

“You don’t need to snap at me, Kayden,” she said, her voice dropping into a calmer register.

I forced a heavy breath into my lungs, reining in the anger spinning inside me. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m very frustrated.”

“You were actually trying to cook for us,” Gabrielle murmured, stepping closer to the island. Her eyes drifted from my flushed face down to the wreckage on the floor, and then back up to meet my gaze.

A breathy giggle escaped her throat. She quickly swallowed hard, pressing her lips together as if trying to stop the sound from morphing into a full-blown laugh.

“Do you like Chinese food?” she asked out of nowhere.

My brows knit together in confusion. “I’m not a huge fan, no.”

“Well, I’ll turn you into one today,” she declared, a small spark returning to her eyes. “Go get changed. We’re eating out.”

“What?” I blinked, thrown off balance by her sudden shift.

She was just angry at me moments ago.

God, I never knew how things would go with Gabrielle. Perhaps that was one of the things I loved about her.

“You heard me. But nothing formal,” she clarified, gesturing to her own casual state. “We’re going to a low-key street food spot. So put on something… like a disguise. A baseball hat, a hoodie—the whole fucking deal.”

I stared at her, my heart doing a twist. “I thought you were furious with me.”

“Would you prefer me to be furious?” she challenged, tilting her head.

“No. Of course not.”

“Good,” she smiled, turning toward the door. “So go get changed.”

I had no choice but to run to my room. I quickly finished changing before coming to wait for Gabrielle at the bottom of the stairs.

My hands were shoved deep into the pockets of my sweatpants. I was still on the edge, still half-expecting her to snap at me for what happened.

Soft thuds echoed as Gabrielle walked down the stairs. 

The air left my lungs in a rush as my eyes reached her. She wasn't wearing anything fancy. She had on a faded pair of straight-leg jeans, a simple black zip-up hoodie that swallowed her frame, and clean white sneakers. Her face was bare of makeup, and her damp hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders. 

She looked…

She was…

Fuck me. I was finished, that was for sure.

A dizzying wave of excitement crashed over me. Nothing else mattered. The only I knew was that I was going on a date with a girl I’d been crazy about for two years.

“You look gorgeous,” I breathed out the second she reached the bottom step.

She gave me a dry look, heading for the front door. “Is this another one of your media traditions?”

Fuck me.

“I mean it,” I said, stepping into her path to make her look at me, letting a wide, foolish grin spread across my face. “You look gorgeous, Gabrielle. Seriously. Absolutely gorgeous.”

She rolled her eyes, a hint of a blush touching the tips of her ears. “Keep talking like that and I’ll revoke your street food privileges.”

“Try it,” I teased, following her out to the car. “I don't care. You're still gorgeous.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.” She got into the passenger side. “Let’s go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Who was I to refuse.

I pulled out of the driveway. Soon, we were pulling up at a congested, neon-lit stretch of the city. 

I pulled my black baseball hat low over my brow and zipped my hoodie up to my chin before climbing out of the car, rounding to the passenger side and opening the door for Gabrielle.

“Look at you, being such a gentleman,” she teased. “Is it also part of your media tradition?”

Kill.

Me.

Now.

“I’m—”

“Don’t even mutter the word ‘sorry’ right now, Kayden. I don’t wanna hear it.” She was already leading the way past a cluster of storefronts.

I followed behind her like a lost puppy until we hit a Chinese night market.

It was loud. It was chaotic. And everyone cared about the food. 

That was the best part.

“Sit here and keep your head down, I’ll be right back,” Gabrielle said, pointing out a table before leaving to place our order.

 Within minutes, the table was covered in small paper plates and bamboo steamers.

There was so much to choose from that I became confused.

“Here. Taste this.” Gabrielle practically shoved a steamed pork buns into my mouth.

It melted right on my tongue.

“Mm… oh my God,” I exclaimed.

“Right?” Gabrielle smiled brightly like she was proud of herself. “You like that?”

“I love it. I want more. Can we come again tomorrow and the next day?” Because I want to spend more time with you outside.

“Easy,” she muttered. “You know you can’t have greasy food while in the middle of a season.”

“And yet, here we are.”

“Just this once, Kayden. No more.”

Whatever she said.

I nodded as I began attacking whatever food I could reach on the table.

From pan-fried dumplings to skewered lamb, to rice cakes. And then we finished off with sesame-crusted cake.

I turned into a hummingbird. Soft moans escaped my throat whenever a new taste hit my tongue.

And Gabrielle paid more attention to me than she ever had in all the time she had worked for me.

“I’m having so much fun,” I confessed.

It’s not just about the food, it’s about being here and trying all the things you like. It’s about getting to know new sides to you, I wanted to tell her.

But I was pathetic and my anxiety rose even more. So I swallowed the words.

“You’re staring,” Gabrielle said, pointing her chopsticks at me.

I cleared my throat, embarrassed to have been caught. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” she argued.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No… fuck… why do you always gotta be so stubborn.” I leaned my chin on my hand. “Yes, I’m staring. Am I not allowed to stare at my girlfriend?”

“You mean fake girlfriend?” She whispered the word ‘fake’.

“It’s as real as it can get for me. For the next thirty days at least.”

“Twenty-nine days,” she retorted.

Fuck!

Did she include today in her count?

So fucking brutal.

“Fine then.” I reached across the table to wipe a smudge of oil off her cheek with my thumb. 

Gabrielle didn’t pull away or tense up. She was smiling at me like this was the most natural thing to happen between us.

And I appreciated it.

“Here, eat more,” she said, pushing another slice of cake towards me.

A clatter echoed from the table beside us. A teenage boy was staring at the lower half of my face beneath the baseball hat. 

He looked away, his brows furrowed like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Then he looked at me again with more certainty.

“Wait,” the boy shouted. “Holy shit! That’s Kayden Alvarez!”

In a split second, my little bubble burst. 

Heads whipped around and people pulled out their phones.

Panic flared in my chest. I didn’t care about being exposed, but I cared about protecting Gabrielle from getting swarmed and dragged back into the internet circus tonight.

I grabbed Gabrielle’s hand, our fingers locking tight instinctively.

“Run,” I yelled over the rising noise.

Her eyes widened, and then she laughed as if she was enjoying the thrill. 

We bolted to our car and climbed in, slamming the locks. The car filled with our loud, breathless laughter. 

I looked over at Gabrielle. Her hair was windblown, her cheeks were flushed bright red, and she was grinning so hard her eyes were crinkling at the corners.

This was the best night of my life.