Nightmare on Broadway (California Dreaming Sequel)

Chapter Seven

Hello my loyal readers, here's the next chapter of 'Nightmare on Broadway'! I hope you enjoy, i know how everyone has missed Gabriel so maybe this will make you feel a little better :D and I need help!!! Give me some pet names Gabes and Jia can call each other! I'm running out of ideas...it can't be too cringy, or too serious, somewhere in the middle, or something so ridiculous that it's obvious they're being sarcastic....thank you! LOVE YOU ALL xxxx

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   I was dragging my small holdall behind me, sliding it along the smooth floors, through customs and into the collection area. I walked slowly, taking small steps, moving my gaze across the various people who were leaning against the barriers, searching for his face. Suddenly, I saw him, trying to peer over someone’s head, trying to spot me. When he did, he squeezed past various family members and spouses until he reached the front of the barriers, ducking under them. 

   I was expecting myself to hurry over to him, to throw my arms around him and hug him as tightly as I could. However, I was too busy admiring him from afar, his tanned skin and dark, messy hair, the way he was smiling, slightly crooked. He closed the space between us, reaching out and touching his fingers lightly to my hand. I felt the sparks immediately, the pulse of electricity, and that was all I needed. I smoothed my hands up on either side of his neck and went up on my tip toes, touching my lips to his desperately. He responded immediately, leaning down so I could stand flat on the ground, moving his lips passionately over mine, forcing me to curve my back away from him. 

   This feeling, of being wanted unconditionally, or being loved; I think I had gotten used to not having it. In New York, life was amazing, but everything seemed slightly numbed, as if when I was there, life was a muted version of how it should be. I loved him, I loved his lips and his smile and his incessant loyalty, I loved California, and the way being here made me feel. 

   “I missed you,” I giggled, my warm breath spreading across his lips. 

   “God, it’s hard being away from you,” he bit his lip uneasily before kissing me again. Once he felt safe, once he knew I was really here, and I wasn’t just a figment of his imagination, he took hold of my hand and began to grin, swinging our arms between us. “Let me take this,” he reached for my holdall and began pulling it behind him. 

   “So where are you going to take me, Gabriel Fitzgerald,” I smiled up at him, brushing a lock of dark hair behind his ear, noticing a slight blush spread up from the neckline of his t-shirt. 

   “Well, back to my dorm first, so we can drop off your stuff, and then wherever you want,” he looked down at me when he thought I wasn’t looking, tracing his eyes over the lines of my face, the shape of my eyes and the arch in my eyebrows. 

   Gabes led me outside, and round to where he had parked up his big, old Jeep. I felt the difference in the air, here it was less noisy and less polluted and the buildings weren’t nearly as tall. However, it didn’t quite feel like home either, the sun was shining, but there wasn’t the heat I remembered, that cool summer breeze. I guess it was October, but I still felt a sense of loss, for the summer that had past, for all the incredibly memories of dancing on the beach and partying at Leila’s house. When we were driving down the highway, to Stanford, I couldn’t roll down the windows and hold my arm out in the sun, although, looking out onto the beaches did make my stomach clench. I missed the beach. 

   When we approached Stanford I couldn’t help but stare up at in awe. Another huge difference between California and the big NYC, was the space...or lack of. The Stanford campus looked vast, never ending, all built around one, large stone building, constructed in the style of a European villa. The red, slate roof and the slightly yellowish tone to the stone walls, along with the large arches, all reminded me of holiday homes I’d stayed in in Spain and Italy when I was still living in the UK. There were wide, grey paved courtyards with austere fountains, where students were cycling through to their dorms and the food hall. Unlike New York, the buildings all seemed to be in close proximity to each other, rather than dotted around Manhattan a subway ride away from each other.