“I don’t know. The question popped out.” Gemma didn’t laugh with me, and I wondered if she thought I was losing my mind or on the verge of a different type of panic attack.
“Don’t worry, Gem. Really, I’m okay. Are you?”
She shrugged. “Nothing like that has ever happened to me. I’ve never even had a speeding ticket.”
“Never?” I’d had two, and my mom was always nagging me about the points on my license.
“It helps not having a car.” She grinned.
“Did you drive much back home?” I rested my head against my seat. The silly shock was starting to wear off, and the hammering in my chest and head was subsiding. Jesus, what would I have done if Officer Warren called my parents or something? I tried to focus on Gemma.
“Loads. I’ve been driving since I was fourteen.”
“Fourteen!”
“Small towns have different rules.”
“How’d you even reach the pedals?”
“I’m not that short. You make it sound like I was a child.”
“You were a child!”
Gemma laughed. “You sound like your mom.”
“Gemma! That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.” I slapped her thigh harder than I intended. She was right, which made it worse.
She put a hand on my thigh, and I pushed it off.
“Oh come on. Don’t be mad about that. I was joshing.”
I wasn’t that hurt, but the thought of another round of make-up sex was enticing, so I continued the charade.
“Tegan. I can tell you aren’t mad.”
“Oh really? How?”
“You aren’t biting your lower lip like you’re trying to hold in a nasty comment.”
“You mean so I won’t sound like my mom?”
“I never said that.” She put both palms in the air. “Never.”
“But you thought it.” I leveled my eyes on hers.
“Nope. Never. You’re the one who always jumps to that conclusion. I utilized a common phrase—no malice intended. I promise, promise.”
I clamped down on my lower lip.
Gemma let out a rush of air. “I kinda like it when you bite your lower lip. It really shows off that sexy gap between your teeth—makes me hot.”
That mollified me some. “Maybe you should pick more fights with me so I do it.”
“You mean like you’re doing now.” She leaned against the passenger door to apprise me head-on.
I tried to keep up the charade but couldn’t. Gemma looked so cocky with her arms crossed over her breasts along with the slight tilt of her gorgeous red head. “Okay, you win.” I pulled her head to mine.
A knock on the window scared the shit out of me.
“Not again,” I growled and rolled down the window to give the intruder a piece of my mind. “What now?” I shouted out the window.
“Whoa!” Jenny backed up a step. “What’s got your panties in a bunch?”
“Jenny, what are you doing here?”
“Seeing a movie. What about you two? Are you here to see a movie or make out?” Jenny teased.
“What about the party?”
“Lame so we scrammed.”
Gemma got out of the car, and I did likewise.
“What movie?” Gemma asked.
“Sommersby. Bernie has the hots for Jodie Foster.”
Gemma nodded in a way that implied, “Who doesn’t?”
“What about you two?”
“Groundhog Day.” Gemma opened the theater door and motioned for Jenny and me to go ahead.
“Oh, that’s right!” Jenny bonked her head with a hand. “How’s your first date going?”
“How do Taco Bell, Signal Rock, almost getting arrested, and fighting in the car stack up?”
“Dude, that’s epic. A first date you’ll never forget!” Jenny waved to get Bernie’s attention. She had her arms laden with sodas, a large popcorn, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. A woman after my own heart. Maybe this Bernie wasn’t so bad after all.
Gemma hopped in line. “Wait for me, Gem.”
“Gem—that’s cute,” Bernie said. She nodded to Gemma as a hello. “Let’s go, Jenny. I don’t want to miss the previews.”
They made their way into theater one. Over her shoulder, Jenny shouted, “Meet up with us after your movie.”
I gave a thumbs-up without thinking.
Gemma was almost to the front of the line when I butted in. My coworker spotted me and motioned me to the side. I tugged on Gemma’s jacket and whispered, “I got the hook-up.”
She grinned. Not only was our movie free, but so were the snacks. Even though this might be the cheapest first date in history, I had a feeling I’d remember it for other reasons.
Walking to the theater, I giggled.
As if in tune with my thoughts, Gemma whispered in my ear, “Is something wrong, Officer?”
I bent over, laughing.
People around us gave us space.
Gemma motioned for me to walk ahead. We settled into our seats in the back row in the far corner.
I laid my head on her shoulder. “This was the best date ever, mostly.”
“Every day with you is an adventure, Teeg.”
Under Lock and Key
Chapter Thirteen
Gemma steered me to the side of the swanky restaurant’s entrance. “You okay?”
“Yeah? Why?” Catching my reflection in the mirror, I fluffed my blonde locks and ran a finger over my teeth to wipe off a lipstick smear.
She cocked her head so it was nearly horizontal to the ground, her beautiful red hair tumbling over a shoulder. “You know why. This is our first double date and”—her head lurched upright, and she lowered her gaze to her simple black heels—“you have a habit of freaking out.”
“Sheesh. No need to plant any unnecessary thoughts into my fragile and immature mind.” I crossed my arms over my chest, accidentally pushing the girls upward and putting more pressure on my dress, which was doing its best to contain the goods.
Gem put up two palms, one holding a black purse. “Don’t be mad, please.”
I laughed and hooked my arm through hers, much to Gem’s surprise. “You’re sweet. Really. But this isn’t a blind double date or something. It’s dinner with Jenny and Bernie—our only lesbian friends. And in case you missed it, we drove by the Denver zoo a few minutes ago.” I jerked my head to the north. “We’re two hours from Alfrid. The odds of us running into anyone from school are pretty much nil in downtown Denver. Besides, I haven’t had a freak-out episode for over two months.” I stabbed two fingers in the air to emphasize the accomplishment. “Give me some credit.”
Gemma patted my arm. “If you say so. Just in case though, I brought a first aid kit from the Red Cross class I recently finished.” She rattled her purse.
“It’s insulting that you took a first aid class because of me.” I folded my arms over my chest again.
“I didn’t take it solely for you. Knowing first aid makes me a better citizen.” Gemma avoided my eyes completely.
“And it has nothing to do with the fact that when I choked on a cherry, Erik gave me the Heimlich while you sat there helpless?”
“What are the odds of that happening again?” Her smile confirmed she thought the odds were quite high that something would happen to me.
A couple pranced by in their evening wear, giving us a wide berth. My crossed arms and tapping foot probably didn’t emit a happy-go-lucky vibe.
“Come on. Let’s get inside.” Gemma opened the door and ushered me inside with the wave of her arm.
“Can I see this magical first aid kit?” I whispered as I swished by her.
“Why?”
We stood off to the side while the hostess dealt with the couple in front of us. “I just want to see it.”
Gemma clutched her bag with both hands, shaking her head as if my simply touching it would jinx its healing power.
“Gemma!” I managed to unzip the bag, even thoug
h Gem didn’t relinquish it completely. The kit was much larger than I anticipated, taking up much of the space in her purse. I rifled through it. “A snake bite kit? Jesus.”
She shrugged. “It’s best to be prepared.”
“Aren’t you a good Girl Scout? You really think I’m that much of a spaz that I need a personal caregiver?”
The hostess motioned us forward. I advanced three steps, and one of my heels snagged on the fringe of the entryway rug. “Whoa,” I said as I tried to gain purchase in my four-inch heels. I tottered on the ridiculously high death traps and stumbled into the hostess stand in front of a wall-to-wall fish tank with the most exotic and colorful specimens I’d ever seen in person. Who owned this joint? Jacques Cousteau? The stand didn’t impede my progress, and if it wasn’t for Gemma grabbing my arm at the last second, I would have face-planted into the glass. Should I make fish faces on the glass in an attempt to make it seem like I intended to get up close and personal?
“You okay?” asked the hostess dressed in a slim black dress. She steadied the teetering podium with one hand, straightening her dress with the other.
“What?” I eluded Gemma’s helping hand. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I fixed the skirt of my teal dress, the one I had worn to homecoming senior year, and remembered how it had flown upward in the kerfuffle and revealed my red lace date panties. “We have a reservation,” I said in an authoritative tone.
Gemma smothered her mouth with a palm, but jiggling shoulders provided solid proof of laughter.
“Of course. What’s your name?” The hostess smiled as if this was my first time in a fancy-schmancy place wearing high heels.
“Tegan,” I replied with a touch a haughtiness. I cranked my head to the side to avoid staring at the poor lobsters in the crowded tank crammed next to the spacious fish tank, which housed much smaller creatures in comparison to the crustaceans. How many lobsters would survive the night?
“I think the reservation is under Bernice Sparks.” Gemma stepped to my side, flashing the smile she used when trying to defuse a situation. Was she anxious I would snap at the hostess, or did she note my unease about the lobsters? A few weeks ago, I had cried when a man at Red Lobster playfully asked if he could personally scoop out his meal. I wasn’t a vegetarian but did have a strict rule about not seeing a creature alive moments before it arrived on a plate.
The woman trailed a finger down the reservation book. “Ah, here you are. The other two haven’t arrived yet. Would you like to wait in the bar or at the table?”
“We’ll wait at the table.” Gemma smiled sweetly.
“Of course.” She snatched two menus. “Follow me, please.” She gave me the once-over as if asking whether or not I could make it to the table without wiping out. Maybe she thought I needed hunky men to whisk me to the table in a litter, Cleopatra-style. I did my best to wipe away her insinuation with a fuck-you smile.
We took our seats, and Gemma accosted me when the coast was clear. “You okay?”
“Do you ever feel like a robot? Always asking if I’m okay?” I pressed her knee under the table to take the sting out of my comment.
“You’d think the nurse-in-training”—she pointed to me—“would be the one taking care of me. Not the other way around.”
I stuck my tongue out at her.
“Don’t pull that muscle. You’ll need it tonight.” She joggled a ginger eyebrow.
“Only if you’re lucky.”
“Lucky? I can count on one hand the number of days you’ve been able to keep your hands off me since our first official date in February. What’s today?” She mimicked counting the days. “The second to last day in April.”
“Keep talking and the only action you’ll get in the foreseeable future will involve sitting naked on top of the washing machine during the spin cycle.”
Gem bolted out of her chair. “Bernie! Jenny! So glad you made it.” Her face and neck matched the color of her hair.
Bernie took the seat to my left, her gaze absorbing Gemma’s embarrassment and the fake determination in my eyes. “Trouble in paradise?”
“There won’t be any trouble, will there, Gem?” I rested my chin on intertwined hands, batting my eyelashes.
Gemma mimed zipping her mouth shut and throwing away the key.
Bernie pivoted in her chair to face her girlfriend of a few months. “I think we just missed the drama.”
“Threat was more like it.” The redness leached out of Gemma’s skin as she slid into the seat next to me. Bernie’s presence had this weird way of calming people. Everyone but me. There was something about Bernie that reminded me of my best friend since preschool—who’d stabbed me in the back on prom night during my junior year. The entire world thought Darla was perfect—that she even shat diamonds that smelled of roses. For as long as I could remember, my mom would constantly say, “Why can’t you be like Darling Darla?” Darling Darla—pul-lease. More like Darla Barfla.
Bernie clapped her hands together. “Oh, it’s barely after six, and there’s already been one threat. I love the drama involved with women-only relationships. Keeps me on my toes.”
A waiter, in black slacks, starched-white button-up, and tie, approached. “Would you like to start off with a bottle of wine, ladies?”
I was about to decline when Bernie piped up. “That would be lovely.” She perused the wine list and mumbled some French-sounding words, but the only one I understood was merlot.
“Very good.” The man ducked his head, but not a hair moved. Someone should give him the heads up to lay off the Dippity-Do hair gel.
“What happens when he cards us?” I whispered behind my hand to Bernie.
“He won’t; trust me. Besides, I’m twenty-one. I’ll say the bottle is for me if he causes a stink, but he won’t.” She winked Darla-like.
My eyes roved over the other diners in the upscale steak and seafood joint. All the men clad in suits and ties and the women in dresses. The only girl who wasn’t in a dress was Jenny, but she at least wore expensive-looking trousers and a periwinkle silk shirt that highlighted curves I hadn’t noticed before.
The waiter returned with a bottle and proceeded to uncork the wine. He splashed a small serving into Bernie’s glass. She took an even smaller nip, nodding her approval. He topped off the glass and then served the rest of us.
“Would you like to hear tonight’s specials?” he asked, both hands behind his back.
I stared with one eye closed, waiting for him to shout, “Let me see your driver’s license!”
But he didn’t.
Gemma nudged my foot under the table, and I wondered if I gawked like I was waiting to be punched in the face. I blinked several times, trying to squelch the unease of breaking the law.
“Please,” Bernie purred, and he responded with a grin.
He appeared to be picturing Bernie, dressed in a sleeveless black dress with a diamond pendant perched above ample cleavage, like he wanted to eat her for dessert after his shift. It was hard not to laugh, since it seemed clear we were on dates. This wasn’t the type of place to catch up with classmates on a Thursday night. Maybe he hadn’t received the memo that girls could date girls.
He prattled off three dishes, one of which was lobster. Gemma stroked my thigh, giving me her it’s okay smile.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”
“Please do.” Bernie clearly enjoyed his ravenous smile and leering eyes. I’d wager the dude couldn’t say how many others sat at the table. The only one he had eyes for was the older woman in our group. Of course, Bernie, a dead ringer for Lisa Bonet, had that effect on most. Another irrational reason not to like her. Understanding the way my hackles rose around Bernie was nonsensical didn’t actually rectify the problem. Bernie had always been kind and open to me, yet I couldn’t swat away the unease when in her presence.
Jenny shook her head, rolling her eyes in that exaggerated way that connoted pride, not anger. She’d developed this look soon after meeting Bernie. I
f it were me, I’d probably be miffed if Gemma blatantly toyed with a waiter, man or woman. And the way Gemma had reacted when I’d gone sledding with Erik—it was easy to surmise my attraction to men would be a ginormous issue for her, which was why I kept this secret submerged inside. Luckily my interactions with Erik had been restricted to quick conversations after history class away from Gemma’s glare. He wasn’t such a bad guy, after I got past his bluster. And now that April had her hooks in him, his full-court press had eased, allowing us to evolve into the friend zone.
Was it normal for Bernie to openly flirt with men? We did score a bottle of wine, so I wasn’t going to raise any objections. Besides, she wasn’t my girl. However, if she burned Jenny, Bernie would hear an earful from me. Contending with Darla most of my life was good practice.
I eyeballed Gemma in her emerald dress she had purchased with her mother two weekends ago for this occasion. Gem’s mom had put two and two together well before her daughter informed her we were a couple, and she’d accepted me right away. Gemma confided her mother was tickled pink to make the drive for a girl’s weekend to purchase a dress for her eldest daughter. I hadn’t bothered notifying my mom about the big night out for the simple fact that I couldn’t disclose to her my date was a woman, hence why I recycled my homecoming dress.
Gem had kept the purchase under lock and key, so I wouldn’t snoop and spoil the surprise. I had been convinced she’d wear pants and a blouse like Jenny since I’d never seen Gemma in a dress. When she had stepped out of the bathroom earlier, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was the first time I’d seen her without any clothing or article affiliated with the Cornhuskers.
The four of us had planned this night as the last hoorah before final’s week to celebrate the end of freshman year, except for Bernie who was entering her fourth and final year in the fall.
Bernie raised her glass. “A toast, ladies. To surviving your first year! All that’s left is passing your finals.”
Girl Love Happens : Season One Page 20