West Bloomfield, Michigan
His phone rang. Startled out of his self-pitying stupor, Gabriel tore his hands away from his face and fumbled for the mobile.
Don’t get your hopes up, it could be anyone.
He took a deep breath. Half-afraid, half-excited, he glanced down at the screen. Time stopped.
“It’s him!” he shouted to the empty room. Feeling immeasurably foolish, yet too relieved to care, Gabriel hastily wiped the sweat from his palms and connected the call. His heart raced, and it was hard to breathe—but he would not choke now. This was the chance he had been waiting for.
“Hello?” He cursed himself for the slight crack in his voice. There was a brief silence. He covered the mouthpiece so that Raiden could not hear his ragged breathing.
“Hello, Mr. Colin—I mean, Gabriel. It’s Raiden. I . . . um, are you okay?”
“Yes, of course. I’m splendid, thank you. I was just completing my daily workout when you rang,” he lied. His shaking hand clutched the phone as if it were an extension of his body. This nervousness he felt was abnormal—it surprised him. He only prayed that it was not apparent to Raiden how off his game he felt.
“Oh, did I interrupt you?” Raiden sounded hopeful. “Maybe I should call back late—”
“No, no, no! I’m finished now. Besides, this conversation is far more important than the completion of my strenuous physical routine.”
There was another silence; this time, however, it was broken by Raiden’s small chuckle. “I don’t know, Gabriel. From what I’ve heard, you’re pretty serious about your workouts.”
Gabriel closed his eyes and smiled. He conjured the singer’s image—lips puckered, a hand waving distractedly at the wayward hair that always managed to fall alluringly into those ethereal eyes. Just like Akemi—exactly as Gabriel had envisioned him.
“Well, Raiden, I’m certain that you’ve also caught wind of how serious I am about my craft. Are you free this Friday?” As much he enjoyed flirting, he needed a straightforward answer to his question.
“Friday? Um, I don’t know. I might be busy.”
There was the sound of a struggle, followed by two voices whispering in Japanese. Gabriel strained his ears, but the only two words he could comprehend were, “No!” followed by “ . . . duty!” At that moment, he would have given anything to possess a better command of the Japanese language. So, Raiden isn’t alone. He felt a stab of jealousy.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company,” Gabriel said in a stiff voice.
“Can you—can you give me a minute? I have to take care of something.”
The noises ceased. Gabriel had the suspicious feeling that Raiden had placed him on hold.
Hm. That’s rather annoying.
The crease between his eyebrows deepened. In the five soundless minutes that followed, he managed to create a ring of teeth marks around each of his fingers—including the broken one. His hope was fading. He had to face the fact that Raiden might not want to see him again. It was inconceivable to think that the years of planning, pacing, and praying would all be in vain, but Gabriel realized that for once, he might not get his way.
If he won’t play Akemi, then I’m not doing the movie.
“Gabriel? Are you still there? Sorry about that. I had to discuss some things with Taro.” Raiden’s tone was cheerful, but Gabriel detected a hint of exasperation. All the same, he was overjoyed that his idol had not hung up on him.
“Oh, please don’t apologize. I understand that your band comes first.”
Meddling bastard. He mentally glared at Taro for having interrupted their tête-à-tête. Gabriel stifled a giggle as he realized how possessive of Raiden he had already become. And I barely even know the man.
“About this meeting . . . what exactly do you have in mind?” Raiden sounded fearful.
“Well, I was hoping to discuss everything when we meet. It’s really impossible to map it out over the phone. I need to see your face.” Gabriel tensed as he awaited the singer’s response.
“If you want to see my face, all you have to do is buy a copy of Bard. I’m featured on the cover this month.”
A blush, hot and red, conquered Gabriel’s cheeks. He was losing control of the conversation. “I mean to say—we need to rendezvous in order for me to properly explain my plans.”
“Tell me something, Gabriel. This little scheme of yours doesn’t involve sex, does it?”
Gabriel gasped aloud. How could he know? He thought he heard the sound of glass shattering in the background.
“Raiden, are you alright? Did something just break?”
“I’m fine. Taro just accidentally knocked over the table.”
Gabriel was inclined to distrust this explanation, but he let it pass. “Anyway, in regards to your previous question—absolutely not. My proposal has nothing to do with sex in any way, shape, or form.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Raiden teased.
Gabriel’s jaw dropped. “Really? I didn’t know you were into men.” He grinned behind his hand as he heard the singer’s quick intake of breath.
“I—I’m usually not.” Raiden sounded a bit lost.
“Hm. You’re ‘usually’ not? Does that mean you would make an exception for me?”
“Very funny. As far as my sexual preference goes, I’d prefer to keep it to myself. And yes, I will make an exception for you.”
Gabriel stood, tumbling into the wall. He regained his footing and started pacing madly about the room. “What exactly do you mean?”
“I’ll free up some time this Friday night for a meeting,” Raiden clarified.
Gabriel froze. One foot hovered in the air as he attempted to digest the singer’s words. Friday. Meet. Him. Me. His mind went blank as unexpected joy raced through him.
He said we can meet. He said yes. HE SAID YES!
“Gabriel, why are you making all those strange noises?”
“I—had something in my throat. Oh, Raiden, I’m so delighted. You won’t regret this, I promise!”
He could scarcely believe his dream was within reach. Adjusting his uncomfortably close-fitting garments, Gabriel proceeded to arrange the details of their imminent encounter.
I’m going to charm the pants off him.
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