Girl Love Happens Boxed Set: Books 0-2

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Girl Love Happens Boxed Set: Books 0-2 Page 36

by T. B. Markinson


  “Pine away while you have a fancy dinner with your folks.” Jenny meant every word.

  Bernie’s shoulders softened. “Good answer. See you in bed.”

  Geez, she’d just finished with her mystery date and was ready to hop in bed for some action with Jenny. The woman had nerve; I’d give her that. And energy. Did she make the person walk home? Or was it someone who lived in our complex? Hello, Melrose Place.

  Secured in our bedroom a bit later, I whispered in Gemma’s ear, “I think Bernie is cheating on Jenny.”

  Gemma didn’t seem convinced until I explained the car situation. “Are you sure it was her car?”

  “She’s the only one with a midnight blue Beamer in this part of town.”

  “Could you see who was in there?”

  I shook my head. “The windows were completely fogged, not to mention the fancy tint job like she was president. What should we say to Jenny?”

  Gemma sat heavily on the bed. “I don’t think we say anything.”

  “What? She’s your best friend.”

  “Maybe there’s an honest explanation.”

  “You’re joking.” I yanked my popcorn-smelling movie theater top over my shirt and tossed it into the laundry basket.

  “You remember when everyone, including me, thought you had something going on with Erik. It wasn’t fair to you, and I don’t want to make that mistake again. Besides, it has nothing to do with us.”

  “But—”

  Gemma placed a finger on my lips. “No buts. This is between Jenny and Bernie.”

  “But—”

  She pressed her mouth to mine. Conflicted, I gave in to Gemma.

  “Promise me you’ll stay out of their business.” Gemma’s emerald eyes seared mine.

  “I—”

  She threaded her fingers on both hands through mine, holding them above my head. “Promise me.”

  “Okay, I’ll do my best.”

  “Teeg.”

  “I promise, promise.”

  ***

  The potential Bernie bombshell weighed heavily on my mind, and Gemma’s refusal to consider prying into the situation irritated me even more. I’d always admired her resistance to overreacting, but in this instance, her attitude confused me. Jenny was her best friend.

  Did she condone cheating?

  No.

  I knew firsthand how she’d acted when she’d assumed I had feelings for Erik.

  I needed to find a way to get to the bottom of the situation without explicitly getting involved. But how? Gemma wouldn’t be a help. More than likely she’d be an obstacle.

  An opportunity arose two weeks later, when Jenny’s friend Michelle came over for an evening dip in the hot tub. The five of us fit snugly, and it didn’t take Gemma long to overheat, even though I was the one with a wife beater over my one-piece to keep my scar hidden. Gem eased out of the water, perching on the edge so she could dip her legs. I squeezed between them, holding onto her skinny, freckled calves.

  Michelle floated her head on the water’s surface, studying the night sky.

  “How’s Seb these days?” I asked.

  Without changing her position, Michelle answered, “We broke up.”

  “Really?” My voice rose an octave. “What happened? Did he cheat or something?”

  Gemma tightened her legs around my shoulders, her way of letting me know she was onto my true motive.

  Michelle’s head snapped up. “Seb? No way.”

  “You never know. It’s always the ones you’d least suspect,” I countered, preparing for Gemma to put the squeeze on more.

  “Does that mean Gemma is cheating on you?” Jenny asked.

  Michelle waved the idea away and said, “He got a DJ job in Denver and transferred to DU.”

  “And that’s that?” Bernie hopped onto the edge of the tub.

  “No reason forcing something. Right, Tegan?”

  “Long-distance relationships aren’t easy,” I confessed, remembering my failed one with Josh.

  “But he’s only a couple of hours away. Tegan’s boyfriend was in Texas,” Jenny protested, color rising to her cheeks, and I suspected it wasn’t solely the result of the hot tub.

  Michelle clasped Jenny’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Both of us are fine with it. If we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other.”

  “Does that mean you won’t be dating?” Bernie slipped back into the water.

  “Hell no. I’ve been off the market for over two years. I’m ready to do some shopping, so to speak.” She winked at Bernie, who nodded approvingly.

  The way their eyes met pinged my uh-oh meter.

  Had Michelle been the one in Bernie’s car?

  “But if you date and Seb dates, how will you get back together?” Jenny furrowed her brow.

  “Aren’t you the one who used to preach about not tying myself down?” Michelle waggled Jenny’s arm, causing the water to slosh over the side. “Being in a relationship is making you soft.”

  Jenny dunked Michelle under the water.

  She popped up, laughing. “Hand me my beer, will ya?”

  Bernie, the only roomie old enough to buy alcohol, reached into the cooler. If Jenny broke it off, we’d need a new supplier.

  Jenny continued, “I liked Seb.”

  Michelle bumped her shoulder. “I know you did. I still like him, but he has his dreams and I have mine.”

  Bernie raised her rum and Coke in the air. “To Seb and Michelle chasing their dreams.”

  I joined the cheers, not feeling particularly happy. “Will it hurt when Seb starts to date someone?”

  Michelle tilted her head. “Probably. Luckily, I won’t have to see it.”

  “What about you, Jenny?” I asked, and Gemma’s legs squeezed harder around my shoulders. “Would it hurt if you and Bernie chased your own… dreams?”

  Bernie locked her eyes on mine.

  Gemma did her best python imitation.

  Jenny scooted over to Bernie, resting her chin on Bernie’s shoulder but staring at me. “I wouldn’t want to stand in the way.”

  Bernie let out a breath.

  “But it’d kill me,” Jenny said.

  “Here’s to you two staying together, beating the odds.” Michelle hoisted her beer can, and Jenny crashed hers into it.

  They were the only two to join in, not even Gemma could bring herself to.

  Did Michelle offer the toast as a smokescreen?

  “I’m hot.” Jenny braced her arms onto the cement edge. “Anyone want to join me in the pool?”

  Michelle eagerly hopped out and shouted, “Cannonball!”

  Jenny followed suit, spraying Gemma and me with cold water.

  Bernie once again met my eyes, and I swear if looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.

  How could she suspect I knew something?

  I surmised the look was a figment of my imagination. Guilty about bending the rules of my promise to Gemma and for putting Bernie on the spot. It wasn’t like I’d checked the license plate of the BMW. True, she had the only one in our apartment complex, but she didn’t drive the only Beamer in Colorado.

  The facts, once analyzed, were slim.

  One: I’d seen a BMW in our parking lot, but not in Bernie’s designated slot.

  Two: The windows had been fogged, implying hanky-panky but not proving beyond a reasonable doubt. Could smoking with the windows shut cloud the car completely?

  Three: There’d been no sign whatsoever before or since that Bernie was stepping out of the relationship.

  “I can’t believe summer is halfway over. Seems like yesterday we finished finals.” Bernie rested her head against the lip of the hot tub. “But all good things must come to an end. Speaking of, time for bed.” She stood, stretched her arms over her head, and yawned.

  It was catchy, and soon enough, Gemma and I were yawning and ready to hit the sack.

  Jenny and Michelle were sw
imming laps, more than likely racing, and didn’t notice the three of us slip inside.

  ***

  After we rinsed off in the shower, Gem and I settled under the bed covers. I snuggled into the crook of her arm. “Don’t be mad.”

  Her arm tightened around me. “Not mad.”

  “Disappointed?” I squeaked in a tiny voice.

  “Nah. I knew it was only a matter of time.”

  I propped my chin up on bent elbow. “I’m that predictable?”

  “Completely. I had hoped you’d wait until the end of summer to put your nose into it.” She flicked her hands in the what can I do way. “If you’re right and Bernie is cheating and she thinks you’re on to her, it’s only a matter of time until Berns cracks.”

  “If I’m correct, it serves her right.”

  Gem nodded. “But I don’t want Jenny to get hurt. Her track record with girls is questionable at best.” She cupped my cheek. “I know you mean well, but sometimes it’s best to let a sleeping dog lie. Playing God might be more than you can chew.”

  “I need to pee.” I wiggled out of bed.

  When I exited the closet-sized room that housed the toilet, I found Bernie, with arms crossed, leaning against the bathroom counter.

  “Hi,” I stuttered.

  “You think you know something?” Her confident smile stirred a queasy panic sensation.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I stepped to the sink Gem and I shared. Bernie and Jenny had one for them, a good thing considering all the toiletries for four girls.

  “I don’t like it when people mess with stuff that has nothing to do with them.”

  I nearly laughed in her face. Bernie was the queen of interfering.

  She took a step closer, and it took all my energy not to back away.

  Then she did the unexpected, planting her lips on mine. Aghast, I tried to break free, but she wouldn’t let me.

  I was too stunned when her tongue forced its way past my lips, and I didn’t react for several sledgehammer blows in my head, which I think was my heartbeat.

  Finally, my brain and muscles worked together, and I shoved her off me.

  She smiled. “Now we both have a secret to keep. If you bust me, I’ll reciprocate. Gemma has a jealous streak and a history of not trusting you completely.” She tapped my chest with a finger. “Stay out of my business.”

  I took a step back and wiped my lips with the back of my hand.

  “Glad we worked this out.” With that, she took her leave, disappearing in the dark hallway leading to her bedroom.

  I collapsed against the counter.

  Cheating Hearts

  Chapter One

  The Friday before the start of the fall semester, Gemma and I moved our stuff into our off-campus apartment.

  “Gem!” I hollered from the bathroom.

  Her beautiful head popped around the corner. “You bellowed?”

  I put a hand on my hip. “I didn’t bellow.”

  A black smudge marred her left cheek. “Got it. Yelling from the bathroom doesn’t equate to bellowing.”

  Rolling my eyes, I pulled her into the room and shut the door. “What do you think?” I made a ta-da motion with my hands to the framed picture I’d hung over the toilet.

  Gemma put a finger to her chin as if observing a piece of art in a Manhattan gallery. “Hmm… the color choice is bold. The brown and yellow pen strokes are evocative.”

  I whacked her arm, making her giggle. “Do you think it’s too much?”

  She closed one eye, staring at my pen drawing of a steaming pile of poop with a cartoon bubble that read: If you must, doody here. “It does point out the obvious.”

  “That’s the point!” I said.

  “Then you nailed it.”

  “You don’t like it.” I started to remove it.

  Gemma reached for my hand. “You didn’t let me finish. While it points out the obvious, it’s funny because it does. I like it.”

  I took one tiny step back in the small room housing only the toilet secreted to the side of the shower. “You do?”

  “I do. And I love that you actually created it for our apartment together. It’s weird, kinda. Last year this time, we were moving into our dorm room and we didn’t know each other. Now…” Gemma threaded an arm around my waist and laid her head on my shoulder.

  Someone knocked on the door to the shower room, and from the hollow sound, the door wasn’t closed. “What are you doing in there?”

  Gemma retracted her arm and head as if a cop with a pistol raised shouted, “Hands off!”

  “Remind me again why we invited my parents to help us move in?” I whispered.

  “Because mine volunteered and you let that slip to your mom last week at Tuesday night dinner with the Ferbers.”

  I opened the door, and my mom stuck her head in. Considering the size of the room, it didn’t take her eyes long to land on the object of discussion. “Glad to see those art classes you took in elementary school paid off. Tegan, your father needs you in your bedroom.”

  Gemma, perhaps feeling unwanted, scooted by my mother, who was still hovering in the doorway, to help her parents. Cormac and Ava had arrived in Alfrid the day before.

  Ava, wearing a cream silk shirt with embroidery she’d more than likely crafted herself, was standing in the open space where the side-by-side sinks were. Right behind her were the entrances to both bedrooms. In most homes, the kitchen was the natural gathering spot, but our bathroom was attracting all the traffic at the moment. “We should all have dinner tonight.” She smiled like a mother proud of her daughter.

  My mom, still guarding the bathroom door like a three-headed Cerberus at the gates of the Underworld, plastered a fake smile on her face. “We would love to—”

  Dad, in my bedroom doorway right next to Gem’s, maybe sensed Mom was about to decline and butted in, saying, “It’s settled then. Applebee’s suit everyone? It’s really the only choice.” He laughed.

  Cormac nudged my side. “Tegan does love their ribs.”

  Mom’s eyes traveled from Ava’s to my father’s to Cormac’s and then settled on mine. “Of course, she does.”

  As if the radio gods sensed I needed to belt out my frustration, the song “Mr. Wendal” by Arrested Development blared from Gemma’s stereo system. I mimicked the opening scream and then switched to humming along.

  Cormac was the only one who didn’t pick up on the dig about my not being super skinny like my aerobics’ obsessed Mom. He said, “Who doesn’t, though?” He turned to his daughter, getting down to business. “The bookcase we brought from home. Where in the bedroom do you want it?”

  Gemma and her parents retreated into the bedroom to discuss the possibilities, presumably.

  Dad motioned me inside my room. “Would you like the desk by the window or the closet?”

  “Not by the window,” Mom said. “We want her to study, not check out all the hot guys.” She paused. “Then again, there’s nothing wrong with a little eye candy, and this is the time for you to explore all your options.” She pulled up the cheap tan-colored blinds, a third of them bent, by the cord to reveal three female residents in bikinis and flip-flops, heading to the apartment complex’s pool situated in the middle of all the buildings. Luckily, we scored a window overlooking one of the sidewalks leading to the pool, and I was just realizing the benefits of being on the second floor. Optimum height to see down bikini tops. Mom studied me eying the chicks. “Closet,” Mom said in a tone that implied no one should argue. She did her best to lower the blinds, but the cord had jammed.

  Dad’s eyes stayed on the girls a moment too long, eliciting a cough from my mother. “Right.” He motioned for me to grab one end of the desk, and we carefully shoved it next to the small walk-in closet over the thin gray carpet that’d been steam cleaned one too many times judging by the thread-barren patches. Dad slapped his hands together as if we’d made significant progress. “Let’s get the r
est of the boxes out of my truck.”

  Gemma’s mother was in the kitchen unwrapping a spice set she’d purchased for us the previous day during a Wal-Mart splurge. She smiled at my parents. “Do you think they’ll use more than the salt and pepper?”

  In the entrance of the galley kitchen, Dad put an arm around my shoulders. “Since the…” He paused, his eyes flicking with panic, making me wonder if he stopped himself in time to say separation from Mom. Recovering he continued, “…beginning of summer, Tegan and I have been taking cooking classes.”

  Ava tilted her head. “Really? That’s a wonderful way for a father and daughter to spend time together. Very progressive of you, Rick.”

  Dad beamed. “We plan to do one a month. Right, Tegan?” He drilled his elbow into my side.

  I groaned. “If I can. I have a full load of classes.”

  “Twelve credits, please. That’s the least you can take to count as a full load.” He made quote marks with his index fingers.

  “But…” I started to defend my reasons, ranging from working part-time and volunteering at a hospital to get accepted into the nursing program, but opted not to relitigate the argument for the umpteenth time. Having a former air force father, who was now a pilot, was infuriating at times.

  Dad powered on. “And if I’m remembering correctly, you’re free every Monday afternoon and night. There’s a month-long Italian class starting two Mondays from now that meets once a week for under two hours. We’ll learn how to make pasta from scratch.” His eyes twinkled like a little boy who’d just discovered buried treasure.

  “You seem like a man who appreciates home cooking.” Ava presented a white box from the box of goodies she’d brought from Nebraska. “Try one of my cinnamon rolls. I sell them in our shop.”

  Dad licked his lips. “We should make some coffee to go with them.”

  “What about the rest of the boxes? The girls have only brought over their summer clothes from the sublet.” Mom, who’d been looming behind us the entire time, said in an effort to derail the cinnamon roll tasting.

 

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