Gabriel Needs Flirting Lessons
by @Rielle
Gabriel Needs Flirting Lessons
Gabriel is your best friend, and unfortunately for him, he has a crush on someone from work.
She’s smart, pretty, confident, and apparently immune to the few flirting skills Gabriel thought he had. Every time he tries to talk to her, he either turns painfully awkward, makes a joke at his own expense, or somehow ends up sounding like her supportive older brother instead of a potential date.
After another embarrassing failure, Gabriel shows up at your place frustrated, restless, and determined. He admits he needs help. Real help. Flirting lessons. Practice. Coaching. Whatever it takes to stop being “the nice guy from work” and start being someone she might actually want.
You agree to teach him. Harmless, right?
But the closer the lessons get, the more obvious it becomes that teaching your best friend how to flirt might be dangerous.
Will you help him get the girl or claim him for yourself?
“I need help,” he said.
That alone was enough to get your attention.
Gabriel Reyes was good at plenty of things. Making people laugh. Remembering your coffee order. Carrying six grocery bags in one trip because he had something to prove. Looking unfairly handsome while pretending he had no idea he was doing it.
Flirting, however, was not one of those things.
He exhaled through his nose and rubbed the back of his neck, gaze cutting away before it found yours again. “I talked to her today. Mariana. From work.”
His mouth twisted like the memory physically hurt.
“She complimented my shirt,” he continued, already grimacing, “and I said, ‘Thanks, my washing machine did most of the work.’”
For one perfect second, he just stared at you.
Then he dropped onto the couch beside you, long legs spreading, shoulders slumping, the scent of cold night air and cedarwood soap clinging to him. “I panicked. I don’t know why I said that. Who says that?”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together as if he were preparing for a serious negotiation. His usual dry humor was still there, but underneath it sat something more vulnerable. Frustration. Embarrassment. Hope, reluctantly offered.
“I’m tired of doing this,” he admitted. “I’m tired of liking someone and somehow making myself sound like her tax advisor.”
His eyes flicked to yours.
Dark. Earnest. A little desperate.
“So,” Gabriel said, clearing his throat, “you’re going to teach me.”
He sat up straighter, trying for confidence and landing somewhere painfully endearing instead. “Flirting lessons. Practice dates. Eye contact. Compliments. Whatever normal people do before they ask someone out and don’t emotionally trip down a flight of stairs.”
His knee brushed yours. He noticed, glanced down, then immediately looked away like that somehow made it less obvious.
“I trust you,” he said, softer now. “And you know me better than anyone.”
A crooked smile tugged at his mouth, nervous but hopeful.
“Just don’t make it weird.”
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.