“Unless you don’t want to?” she asks uncertainly.
“No, no, I’ll stay.” I reach for the champagne and pop the cork off while she grabs us two glasses.
“Lucas can come too, if he wants. Do you want to go get him?”
“Nah,” I shrug. “He isn’t home.” I actually have no idea where Lucas is. I haven’t seen him all afternoon, so I’m pretty sure he isn’t home. But even if he was there’s no way I’d invite him over here right now.
I pour the champagne and hand her a glass. “Cheers,” I say, clinking mine against hers.
“Cheers,” she says. She turns back to the stove and I watch her cook. She’s so confident, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s so in the zone she forgets I’m sitting here, and I’m so into watching her I forget I’m quietly staring.
“What?” she finally asks after a few minutes. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
I shake my head. “I’m just watching. You really look like you know what you’re doing.”
“I like to cook.” She shrugs. “This is almost ready, can you get a couple plates? They’re in that cabinet.”
I do as I’m told and she makes us each up a plate. We stand there, both of us realizing we’re about to sit down and have dinner together. Just the two of us.
“Let’s watch a movie or something,” Gemma suggests, grabbing her drink and heading toward the couch. “Bring the champagne.”
I grab the champagne bottle and follow her, topping off our glasses when I get there. It dawns on me I’ve never sat down and had dinner with a girl like this before. I wonder what that says about me. Probably nothing good.
“What should we watch?” Gemma asks, picking up the remote and flipping through the channels.
“I dunno,” I say, “whatever you want.”
“Ooh, French Kiss!” she says, and stops changing the channels. “I love classic Meg Ryan, before she did all that stuff to her face.”
“Ugh, no, we’re not watching a chick flick,” I say, and take the remote out of her hand. She grumbles in protest, but lets me flip through the channels.
“Rambo, yes!” I say, stumbling upon the movie and putting the remote down where Gemma would have to reach across me to get it back.
“No way,” she protests. “If we can’t watch a chick flick we’re not watching a boy movie, either.”
“Rambo appeals to lots of people!”
“So does pre-plastic surgery Meg Ryan!”
We glare at each other for a minute, until I make an exaggerated snarling face and she laughs. “Give me the remote, Spence,” she says, holding out her hand.
“Uh-uh,” I say, moving it further away from her. “You’ll have to come and get it.”
She sighs and makes a face at me. “This is my apartment, technically you shouldn’t get a say in what we watch at all.”
“Okay, okay, fine,” I relent. I pick up the remote and flip through the channels again, stopping when I see Inigo Montoya on the screen.
“Princess Bride!” we both exclaim, and give each other a look.
“Did we just agree on something?” I ask her.
“I think we did.” There’s a small, coy smile on her face.
“It’s a miracle!” I say, using my best Miracle Max voice and tossing the remote down on the coffee table in front of us. “Can we eat now or what?”
“Yes, hurry before it gets cold,” she says, curling up on the couch with her own plate on her lap and digging in.
I take a bite of risotto—which I’ve never eaten before in my life—and immediately close my eyes and moan. “Oh my god, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
She looks over at me, beaming. “Really? It’s good?”
“It’s so good. I’ve never even had risotto before and now it’s my new favorite food. I’m calling it.”
She takes another bite of her own. “Yeah, I guess I did a pretty good job.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this secret talent from me,” I say.
“I wouldn’t call this a talent,” she says. “It’s a skill borne of necessity that I happen to enjoy.”
“It’s definitely a talent. You can cook for me whenever you want,” I tell her, shoveling more food into my mouth.
“Gee, thanks,” she says, but she’s smiling.
We finish our risotto, and then we work on finishing the bottle of champagne, too. We both know almost every line from Princess Bride and quote them along with the characters.
It’s one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.
The champagne is gone and the movie is almost over and we’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch. She keeps glancing over at me and I can tell she’s wondering if I’m going to make a move, and to be honest, I’m wondering if I’m going to make a move, too. It feels like I should. This has been the most date-like non-date we’ve had yet.
But then I surprise myself, and as the credits roll I stand up and stretch. “Well, I’d better get going,” I say, picking up the empty dishes to bring to the sink. Gemma has a distinct look of disappointment on her face.
“Yeah, it’s getting late,” she says, standing up too. “Here, let me take those.” She takes the dishes out of my hands and puts them in the sink. I follow her and stand by the door, hands in my pockets.
“Thanks for feeding me,” I say.
“Oh, you’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”
We stand there, both looking at each other like now what? But neither of us moves.
“Number three, our best yet,” I say, giving her a coy smile.
She gives me a confused look. “What are you talking about?”
“Our third date. Dinner and a movie. Not bad, Kincaid.”
She laughs, her whole face lighting up in amusement. “That was not my intention when I invited you in,” she says.
“Wasn’t it though?” I say, grinning.
“No!” she says, but she’s still laughing. “Not a date.”
“Okay, whatever you say,” I say.
She leans back against the counter and bites her lip, shaking her head at me. It’s the lip biting that almost gets me. Almost.
“Well, goodnight, Gemma,” I say, opening the door. She comes closer, ready to close the door behind me once I’m gone.
“Goodnight, Spence,” she says. She’s still got that look on her face, the one that’s telling me she would totally be okay with it if I kissed her but I hold back. Despite my wishful thinking for tonight, I’ve changed my mind. If I kiss her right now this whole flirtation we have going on will be over and this will become something else. And as much as I’d like it to be something else, I’m not sure yet what I want that something else to look like.
So I give her a smile, a really good one, and head back downstairs to my apartment. She waits a few beats before she closes the door, like maybe she thought I’d come back. Or maybe she was thinking about coming after me. If she had come after me all bets would have been off, that much I know for sure. But if she’s waiting for me to make the first move she’ll have to wait a little longer.
Chapter Thirteen
Gemma
This is a stupid idea, I think as I pull the cookies out of the oven and put them on a rack to cool. I’ve been telling myself all afternoon it’s a stupid idea, but I keep on going through with it anyway.
The last time I saw Spence was when he crashed the dinner I made for Amanda. Since then it’s been radio silence. I haven’t run into him, haven’t seen him at Kincaid’s, nothing. It’s making me feel a little crazy. Hanging out with him was nice. Really nice. It was weird at first, being alone with him like that, in a situation that definitely felt like a date, but then it felt normal. Good.
Maybe he didn’t feel the same and he’s not interested in me after all. Which would explain why he didn’t make a move and why I haven’t heard from him. But I want to know for sure, which is why I need to see him and how he acts around me. So as a pathetic attempt to have
an excuse to see him, I am baking cookies. Like I’m some kind of Martha Stewart bake sale queen. It’s all I could come up with.
I let the cookies cool enough that they’re not piping hot but still a delicious, warm, straight from the oven cookie. Because nothing says “I might want to have sex with you” like a warm cookie straight from the oven. I put them on a plate and head downstairs before I can talk myself out of doing this.
After I knock on the door to Spence’s apartment I immediately regret it. I’m about to turn and high-tail it back to my place, hoping no one heard my knock, or no one is home, when the door opens and Lucas is standing there.
“Hey!” he says brightly.
“Oh!” I say, surprised. I know Lucas lives there, but I didn’t expect to see him. I recover quickly. “Hey, Lucas, you busy?”
“Nope, just hanging out with Max and Sophie, come on in.” He doesn’t ask why I’m there and doesn’t say anything about the plate of cookies in my hand. He steps back and opens the door wider so I can come inside.
“Spence isn’t home,” he says, closing the door behind me.
“Oh, yeah, that’s okay, I wasn’t looking for him,” I say, but Lucas doesn’t look like he believes me.
“So those cookies aren’t for Spence? I heard you made him dinner the other night.”
I can feel my face turn twelve shades of pink.
“No, they’re not for him, they’re for all of you.” I thrust the plate in his direction. “I made them for my sister-in-law. She’s pregnant and craves cookies all the time. And these were extra. So I thought I’d bring them over.” I’m rambling, coming up with a lie off the cuff, but Lucas seems to buy it.
“Well, in that case, thanks.” He picks a cookie off the plate and puts it in his mouth. “Still warm! So good!” he mumbles around a mouthful of cookie. He brings them over to the couch where Max and Sophie are sitting.
“Hey Gemma,” Sophie calls, and Max gives me a wave. He looks decidedly less happy to see me than his girlfriend does. I wave hello.
“Well, I’m gonna go, I only came by to drop those off,” I say, standing awkwardly in the doorway.
“No, come in and hang out! Spence should be home soon,” Lucas insists, beckoning me over. Reluctantly I oblige.
“I’m not looking for Spence,” I insist. Lucas smiles and winks at me, which is slightly horrifying.
Despite Max’s unwelcoming hello, he dives on the plate of cookies like a vulture.
“Oh my god, these cookies are amazing,” he says, taking a bite out of one and giving me an impressed look.
“Thanks!” I say. “I spent a long time finding the perfect recipe.”
“You found it, for sure,” Sophie agrees, nibbling at a cookie of her own.
“Don’t eat them all,” Lucas says, leaning in to take another cookie for himself. “These are for Spence.”
Max swivels around to look at me. “You made cookies for Spence?”
“No, I didn’t make cookies for Spence.” I give Lucas an irritated look. “I made them for my sister-in-law and had some left over.” Lies, lies, all lies.
Max gives me a look as if to say I warned you this would happen, but then his expression softens.
“Well, I’ll tell you what. You’re the first girl Spence has hung out with that liked us enough to make cookies,” he says.
Lucas laughs. “Yeah, unlike Fiona, who hated us.”
“And who was also insane,” Sophie chimes in.
“Who’s Fiona?” I ask, and everyone else in the room cringes a little.
“Basically the only real girlfriend Spence ever had,” Max says. “They dated off and on for like three months last year and it was the worst three months of our lives.”
“It was horrible,” Lucas chimes in. “She’d come to every show. She was at the apartment all the time. Everywhere we went, there she was. And she’d make it a point of telling everyone she was Spence’s girlfriend. She’d pick fights with any girl who dared even look at him. People stopped coming to shows because she was such a nightmare to be around.”
“And we kept telling him to get rid of her but that boy is stubborn. He wouldn’t listen to us,” Sophie says. “It was so dumb. He cheated on her like, a million times.”
My throat goes dry. I mean, I’m not stupid. I know all about his reputation. I know he’s not the sweet, doting boyfriend type, but hearing this? Having a concrete example of exactly why it would be a bad idea for me to get involved with him in any way, shape, or form? I feel like an idiot.
“Thank god he finally came to his senses and broke up with her for good,” Sophie says.
Lucas nods. “That was the closest we’ve ever come to kicking Spence out of the band and replacing him with Pete Crawford.”
The front door swings open as Lucas says that, and Spence bellows, “Why are we talking about Pete Crawford?” Then he spots me. “Oh, hey Gemma, what are you doing here?”
“I made cookies,” I say lamely.
“They’re really good,” Lucas says, his mouth full.
“Don’t eat them all.” Spence says, coming over to take one. Lucas gives him a dirty look but snatches another cookie. “Now tell me why you were talking about Pete Crawford, because if you guys are plotting something behind my back you’re all dead to me.”
Max rolls his eyes. “Oh, relax. We were telling Gemma how close we were to replacing you during the whole Fiona situation.”
Spence's expression goes stormy. “Yeah, well, fuck her,” he says. “And fuck Pete Crawford, too. You’re not replacing me.”
That’s my cue to leave. “Well, I’m going to go. Enjoy the cookies, guys.”
“See ya, Gemma,” Lucas says. “You can bring over extra cookies any time you want.”
I brush past Spence and out the door, and I’m about to step into my apartment when Spence catches up with me.
“Gemma, wait,” he calls out, reaching me in two big strides. I stop.
“So, uh, they told you about the Fiona thing?”
“Yup,” I cross my arms and lean against the door frame. “They sure did.”
“How much, exactly, did they tell you?”
“Well, they told me the part where you cheated on her ‘like a million times’, according to Max, so I think I got the gist of it.”
“Fuck,” he says under his breath, and wipes his hands over his face. “I wish they hadn’t done that.”
“Really?” I arch an eyebrow at him. “Because I’m glad they did. I’d almost convinced myself you were a stand up guy after all.”
“I am!” he protests. “Fiona doesn’t count!”
I laugh out loud at that. “I’m sure Fiona thinks differently.” I shake my head. “You’re something else, Spence, honestly.”
“Fiona is horrible, she is not a nice person.”
“That still doesn’t give you the right to cheat on her and say nasty things about her.”
He pauses and I expect him to disagree with me, to make some excuse why his behavior is okay, but instead he says, “You’re right. It doesn’t. I did some pretty bad things that I regret. But, that’s the only time. That’s the only time I’ve ever cheated on anyone. And I don’t ever plan on doing it again.” He holds up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“Yeah but Lucas said you did it multiple times, Spence. That’s not exactly a glowing recommendation.”
He sighs, frustrated. “Okay, fine, and I’m not going to point fingers or blame anyone, because it was me that made the mistakes, but I told her I didn’t want anything serious. But Fiona was very into labels. Hell, half the time I didn’t even know if we were together or not. She was always getting mad about something and breaking up with me.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” I say.
His eyes widen in surprise. “Oh really? Why are you making it seem like I do?”
“I’m not. That’s all you.” I shrug.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t
care about what happened with Fiona, but I’m letting you know I’m not about to be next on your list of conquests.” I turn to unlock my door and go inside, but he grabs my elbow and turns me around.
“Hey, that’s not what’s going on here.”
“Isn’t it?” I ask. “You just said you don’t do serious, so what else is going on here?”
That stumps him. He stands there gaping like a fish for a minute then he shrugs.
“I don’t know yet,” he admits.
Now it’s my turn to be stumped.
“Yeah, well, let me know when you’ve figured it out.” I go inside the apartment and close the door behind me before he can say anything else.
Chapter Fourteen
Spence
I slept in, like an idiot, and now I’m going to be late. I take the fastest shower possible, throw on some clothes, and take the stairs out of the apartment two at a time. As I reach the front vestibule I come screeching to a halt, because Gemma is standing there, getting her mail. She looks up when she sees me come thundering down the stairs. I haven’t seen her in a few days, not since she found out about Fiona.
“Hey,” I say, trying to catch my breath and act like I’m not in a huge hurry.
“Hey.” She turns back to her mailbox and makes no further attempts at conversation.
“Listen, I’m really sorry about the whole Fiona thing. I swear I’m not as much of an asshole as that story made it seem.”
“Okay,” she says, unmoved.
“Will you let me make it up to you?”
“How do you plan on doing that?” she asks.
“What are you doing right now?” I ask her impulsively.
“Getting the mail,” she replies, pulling out a handful of envelopes and catalogs.
“After that.”
“Um, nothing, I guess. Why?” She looks intrigued enough I might stand a chance.
“I’ve got to run some errands, want to come along?” I jangle my keys in my hand.
“You want to prove to me you’re not an asshole by taking me to run errands?”
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