I wish. Sleep was MIA, like my appetite and Gemma.
Not that I wanted to confide that to Erik, who seemed to forget he was in the doghouse after nearly killing me sledding Monday afternoon. “I must have.”
He rattled a box of conversation hearts. “Want one?”
I shook my head.
“Sure you do.” He handed me a yellow one that read: Miss you. Maybe I should leave it on Gemma’s pillow to get the ball rolling. Or would she construe it as a guilt trip or desperate ploy? I tightened a fist around the heart, saying a silent prayer for Gemma to come back to me and then popped it in my mouth.
“Did you check your calendar?” Erik asked with a brazen grin.
“What?” I didn’t trust Erik one bit and feared my body language was loud and clear. Mom also preached I should fake being nice since it was sinful to hurt someone’s feelings. She didn’t have any issues hurting mine, though.
“Drinks tonight. To celebrate surviving the first test. Only two more to go this semester.”
“Oh, that. I don’t think I can. Gemma—”
“She can come. Our house is having a party. In fact, invite your whole floor if you want.” He tossed his long arms across the seats next to him, causing his biceps to flex, put his foot up on the back of my seat, and fixed his sapphire eyes on mine. His hair was slightly tousled as if he’d been wearing a hat earlier. Then I spied the headphones around his neck, and my mind drifted out of the room. Was Gemma listening to yet another breakup song?
“House?” I managed to say when I saw Erik’s quizzical expression.
“Frat house.” He cocked his head in the universal of course way.
Erik was a frat boy. Another black mark against him.
“I’ll be sure to spread the word. Which frat?”
He rattled off the name of the most notorious Greek house on campus. The one that had been threatened to be disbanded last year, but at the last moment, several prominent men had swooped in and saved it. Decades ago, they were members, and they’d sworn to the president of the university that they would personally ensure no more monkey business would happen. Not that anyone believed it, but the men had also made huge donations to the university.
He rose and patted my head like I was a puppy. “See ya tonight.”
I rolled my eyes after he left. “Treat me like a dog.” I huffed under my breath.
I was the last one in the room when the lights switched off. I waved my arms over my head to trigger the motion detector to switch the fluorescent lights back on. It wasn’t instant, and the creepy flickering sound of the electrical current surging through the three-foot tubes under the cracked plastic covers was reminiscent of the noise made in horror flicks right before a psychopath chops off someone’s head with a chainsaw.
I bolted from the room.
It was still relatively early on Friday afternoon. Now that Gemma and Jenny were MIA, I had limited options for entertainment. I could head back to the dorm room and study for my nutrition test on Tuesday or head to the cafeteria for lunch in hopes that Gemma and Jenny were there. They still had to eat, and I knew for a fact that Gemma was low on funds. Cormac wouldn’t deposit her monthly allowance until the fifteenth. It was only the twelfth of February.
I decided to kill two birds with one stone and hauled my text and notebook to the cafeteria. If I had to, I’d sit through the remaining lunch service and stay put through the dinner hours, ready to pounce on Gemma.
The thought of pouncing on Gemma elicited a completely different notion of jumping Gemma into my sex-crazed mind. At the moment, though, I’d settle for holding hands. I missed the little things the most. The way she smelled. The cute snuffling noise she made in my ear when asleep. The—
“Tell me what fantasy is going on in that beautiful head of yours because the expression on your face is too delicious for words.”
I wanted to peel my eyes open and see Gemma sitting across the table. I implored to the relationship gods for it to be my sweet girl, even though it wasn’t her voice. Maybe she had caught a cold or something.
It was April. So much for pleading with the universe.
“Sorry to disappoint. Cramming nutrition crap into my brain.” I tapped my open textbook with a mechanical pencil.
“Trust me, TR, you could never disappoint me.” She flashed a seductive smile to accompany her innuendo. Ever since she’d stumbled upon Gemma and me kissing, she’d gone into overdrive being excessively sexual. Or was she trying to get into my head? She had to suspect that Gemma was avoiding me after the Walt’s Hill debacle.
I repressed a shudder. “Where’s Jenny?” I hoped my voice didn’t sound too desperate.
She shrugged. “Chem lab, maybe.”
Jenny wasn’t taking chemistry this semester.
“Have you seen Gemma?”
April twirled overcooked spaghetti around her fork. Or tried to at least. “You still haven’t heard from your girlfriend?” She batted her eyes to soften the blow. It didn’t, and her grin relished the knowledge.
“Wait.” I palm slapped my forehead. “She has econ,” I lied. Gemma had that class on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
“She’s pretty smart, isn’t she?” April gobbled a crusty slice of garlic bread.
“The smartest.” And kindest, but I didn’t verbalize that to April. She wouldn’t see that as a positive.
April’s face glowed, and I followed her eyes to the cafeteria entrance. Jenny and Gemma finally made an appearance at 2:08 p.m., twenty-two minutes before the place stopped serving lunch slop so they could prepare for the dinner rush.
They hesitated, but then Gemma strolled up to our table and set her backpack down next to me. “Can you watch this?”
Overjoyed that she had said four words to me, I enthusiastically nodded as if she’d asked me to babysit a puppy.
Jenny placed her bag next to April, who in turn grunted her ascent, even though Jenny hadn’t asked.
I counted the minutes it took for Gemma to round up her food and beverage. She returned with two limp slivers of pepperoni pizza, a small salad dripping with blue cheese, and Pepsi.
“So, Gemma, I thought you were in Econ. Are you actually ditching?” April nudged my foot under the table.
Gemma peeked at me before addressing April. “We had a test. I finished early.”
Gemma had covered for me. Surely that meant she still loved me. Or she didn’t want to get into it with April, her nemesis. Please, God, let it be the former.
“Gem’s a test-taking machine,” Jenny added. Did that mean Jenny wasn’t angry with me anymore, either? She slurped a spaghetti noodle into her mouth, painting watery marinara all over her chin and upper lip.
Gemma and I laughed. April crinkled her nose but stayed uncharacteristically quiet. The shift in power seemed to be leaning in Jenny’s corner, making me nervous.
“Where’s the token student?” April wasn’t the type who’d go quietly into the night.
Jenny’s sucked air into her mouth. “Bernie was valedictorian of her school.”
“That’s good. I’m not a fan of affirmative action—robs the deserving, you know.” April sipped her diet Pepsi angelically through a straw as if she’d announced we were expecting rain later that afternoon.
“Gemma was valedictorian as well,” I said in hopes of stalling World War III between the two for another day.
“What’s the plan tonight?” April asked, resting her head on a palm.
“Uh,” was my not-so-brilliant reply. Were Gemma and I still on for a date? Or had she protected me from April’s wrath out of habit, not love?
Gemma and Jenny exchanged a meaningful look. “Bernie’s roommates are having a few people over tonight,” Jenny tossed out.
“I’m surprised you aren’t sick of Bernie yet. You typically go through women like toilet paper.” April’s squared shoulders counteracted all happy-go-lucky vibes at the table, and we were already coasting on fumes.
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“You’re invited, of course.” Maybe Jenny sensed April was on the warpath and was trying to defuse the situation before blowing all of us up.
Gemma’s left leg twitched next to mine under the table, making it clear that Bernie hadn’t invited April.
“No thanks. Tegan and I have plans, isn’t that right?” April sweetly smiled to mask the obvious fib.
“We do?” I squeaked.
“Wait, I thought we had plans.” Gemma rushed to my rescue again.
I bobbed my head. “That’s right. We do.” I smiled absently at April across the table. “I’m sorry. I totally spaced.” I bumped my knee into Gemma’s under the table, hoping she’d deduce my reason for laying it on thick: to avoid April’s wrath. Gem didn’t pull her knee away. Another minor victory.
“That’s okay. There’s always tomorrow.” April wadded up her paper napkin and threw it onto her plate.
“Groundhog Day is playing across the street,” I told Gemma. “They were screening it last night after work for the employees, but I wanted to wait to see it with you.”
Gemma smiled. Weeks ago we’d seen a preview of the movie, and Gemma, the über Bill Murray fan, said she couldn’t wait to see it.
“So, Gemma, does that mean you’re skipping Bernie’s party?” April asked.
Gemma nodded as she forked a mouthful of iceberg lettuce drenched in dressing.
“I have class.” April rose but kept her eyes glued to mine. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Oh, before you go. Erik’s frat is having a party. He told me to spread the word,” I said.
April smiled. “That’s right. He told me when we were sledding. I’ll gather the troops from the floor.” Hovering over the table, she pinned me with icy blue eyes. “Is Erik fair game?”
“W-what?” I stuttered.
“He’s fine, but I wouldn’t make a play without your permission, of course, since it’s obvious he digs you.” She stretched out a finger and motioned to me and then herself. “You and I need to stick together.” She jerked her head toward Jenny and Gemma. “No one else will take care of us.”
I ignored most of what she said. “Oh, of course you can make a play. I’m so not interested in Erik.” I waved like that was the most ridiculous notion in the world.
“You sure? He’s absolutely gorgeous and built.” April pushed another nail in, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gemma squirming in her seat. “And he told me how he saved your life while everyone else stood by and watched helplessly.”
I came to their defense. “They tried to help—”
Her bitter laughter cut me off. “Tried.” April flickered her eyes toward the guilty parties. “Useless actions are just that. Useless.”
None of us spoke. Jenny’s face screamed her rage. Gemma’s burned with shame.
“I’ll take your silence as answer enough. Erik will be mine by the end of the night.” She strutted out of the cafeteria with determination in each twist of her round caboose.
“I’m pretty sure she’s not buying that I tripped on Walt’s Hill and you rescued me,” I said. I fought off the tightening sensation in my chest. “Ten bucks she tells Erik.”
Gemma’s nose crinkled. Why’d I mention him specifically?
“Don’t worry about April,” Jenny said as if she was a mafia don.
“What are ya going to do? Tell her to shut it or she’ll swim with the fishes?” I tried to force a smile.
“I know people.” Jenny cracked her knuckles.
I believed her for a second.
Gemma started laughing first, and I joined in, relieved that I wasn’t the pariah of the group. At least not at the moment. One reason to be thankful for April.
“April’s all talk, Tiny T. Don’t worry.” Jenny tilted her head to peer into my eyes. “I’ll set her straight.”
“How are things with Bernie?” I made goo-goo eyes.
She burned redder than a Coca Cola can.
“That good, huh?”
Gemma kicked my leg under the table.
“Well, I’m off.” Jenny waved and winked at us, seeming taller. Was it Bernie’s influence, or did kicking April to the curb unburden her shoulders?
There was an awkward silence between Gemma and me.
“So, I’m in the doghouse?” I said.
Gemma sighed. “No, not really.” She shifted in her seat. “I thought you needed space.”
“That was the last thing I wanted this week.”
“What did you want?” She picked at her pizza crust.
“You. To be with you.”
“Not Erik?”
“I don’t like Erik!” I crossed my arms. “Sheesh!”
Gemma flinched and monitored those nearby. No one seemed to notice my outburst.
I nudged her leg under the table. “I promise, promise I don’t like Erik, okay? Not like that.”
Gemma stared at me, not giving any indication if my avowal was satisfactory.
“You still want to do dinner and a movie tonight?” I needed to hear from Gemma’s mouth that everything was okay—or at least on the road to being okay.
“Of course, but I’m low on funds.” She stared at her salad. Lately, she’d been talking about getting a part-time job to pay for an apartment in Denver this summer.
“I asked you on the date, so I’m paying.”
“Is that how it works?” she joshed.
“For tonight at least. I picked up a couple of extra shifts this week, and the movie’s free. One of the perks of my job.”
“Are they hiring?” She sat up straighter.
“I can ask Marc on my next shift.”
She nodded her thanks.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure, but first I have a meeting with one of my profs. Meet you in the room in an hour?” She flung her Eddie Bauer backpack over her left shoulder.
Before she stood, I put a hand on her arm. “Thank you.”
Gemma studied me and then smiled. “Relax, please. I don’t want to have to worry about you having one of your famous panic attacks.” Her tone was teasing, but her eyes showed her true frame of mind—she still cared.
Chapter Two
Ninety-six minutes later and no Gemma. I was on the verge of a full-fledged fit. Maybe I had misread Gemma’s eyes. She didn’t really care—not in the way I wanted. Gemma, being Gemma, would always care about a friend in her life. But did she still love me the way I loved her? Did she still want to be with me? Kiss me? Feel my body against hers?
I frantically paced the room, and each time I passed the window, I squinted in hopes I’d see Gemma returning, even though our window overlooked the parking lot not the classroom buildings. Logic and fear didn’t go hand in hand, apparently.
The jingle of keys outside the door made me panic. I perched on the edge of my desk in hopes I looked unruffled. There was no way I wanted Gemma to know I was on the precipice of losing it because she took thirty-eight minutes longer than she’d said she would. I snatched a magazine with a woman in a bikini on the cover off the shelf next to me and casually flipped through the glossy pages.
Gemma entered with flushed cheeks and out of breath. “I’m so sorry. My professor was a bit of a windbag.”
I peeked at my watch. “Hmmm… oh, wow, look at the time. I had no idea it was so late.” I kept my eyes glued to the magazine.
She tilted her head to read the cover. “Really? You had no idea that I’m more than thirty minutes late?”
I shook my head. “None.”
Gemma tugged the magazine from my hands. “When did you start reading my Sports Illustrated?”
“Since they started showing chicks in bikinis,” I said lamely.
“They’ve been doing that since the sixties.” Gemma put a finger on her chin. “Let me guess. You were pacing until you heard me in the hallway.”
I gripped the edges of the desk with my hands and leaned away from her cu
teness. “I was not.” It took effort to sound indignant.
Gemma stepped closer. “Really?”
“Really.” I leaned back some more and crossed my arms.
She wedged herself between my legs. “Teeg?”
“Oh, all right. I may have been pacing.”
“I knew it. That’s why I ran all the way here.” With a jerk of her head, she motioned me into her arms.
“I’m pathetic,” I said into her chest.
Gemma patted the back of my head. “No, you aren’t. You’re adorable, actually.”
“If you think I’m adorable, why have you been avoiding me all week?”
“Like I said earlier, I was giving you space. Bernie—”
“What’s Bernie got to do with this?” I muttered into her sweater.
“Bernie suggested giving you some space—to see if you missed me.” Gemma’s self-assured tone was starting to wilt.
“So all this was a test or twisted game of some sort?” And I wasn’t happy she openly discussed our relationship with an outsider. What happened to her pronouncement that she’d never out me? Then I remembered that April, Jenny, and Bernie saw me kissing Gemma. If April wasn’t buying the I tripped story, there was no way the out-and-proud Jenny and Bernie would. My recklessness outed me. Me? Play-it-Safe Tegan. Mom would be so proud—not about this scenario, but about me taking a chance. Not that I would ever tell her about Gemma. Oh, the irony.
Gemma lifted my chin to gaze into my eyes. “I didn’t mean it to be that way. I’m sorry.”
I wanted to shove her off me. Tell her to go to hell for making me worry needlessly because Bernie said it’d be best that way. What the fuck did Bernie know? She was only two years older. That didn’t make her Oprah.
But Gemma’s sincere eyes and soft lips compelled me to kiss her.
And I did.
Gemma didn’t hold back and met my lips with a ferocious desire.
I frantically yanked her sweater and shirt off, carelessly dropping the articles onto the carpet. She reciprocated with mine. Her sports bra was next, and her nipple responded enthusiastically when I sucked it into my mouth.
“You weren’t expecting to get naked today, where you?” I asked.
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