I’d been a skinny teenager, barely able to put on weight to keep up with my height. But our publicist decided to push me as the sex symbol since I was the oldest. She’d set me up with a trainer and a nutritionist, and even though I hadn’t gained a lot of weight, I managed to put on muscle and, combined with my already low body fat at the time, I had definition for miles.
But now? I’ve been out of the spotlight for years. I still work out, because it became a stress reliever and a refuge during all the craziness when Brash had its fifteen minutes of fame. And I still use it for that now, except the stress is from school and family more than public pressure, appearances, concerts, and recording schedules. While I keep in shape, I’m not strict with my diet, so the definition isn’t there. I’ve put on weight, actually filling out my six-foot-one frame instead of looking like a muscled string bean. My stomach is flat, but I don’t have a six pack anymore.
Is Gabby disappointed? Did she expect me to still be chiseled and ripped like I was as a teenager?
What she says next isn’t reassuring. “Aren’t you going to put on a shirt?”
I rub my hand over my chest and down my stomach, lifting an eyebrow at her. “You don’t like what you see?”
That pinkness returns to her cheeks again, and she licks her lips as her eyes follow the movement of my hand. “Th-that’s not what I mean.” Good. “I just—if we’re going to talk to Ben, don’t you think you should get dressed?”
Ben won’t care if I don’t have a shirt on, but whatever. “Will you feel better if we’re both dressed?” At her nod, I swipe my shirt off the floor and pull it on. “Ready?”
She takes my offered hand before I open the door. We find Ben in the living room looking at some papers spread over the coffee table.
He blinks at me, adjusting his glasses, still wearing the faded army-green blazer he wears as a jacket when it’s not raining. “Hey, Jon. I didn’t realize your, uh, guest would still be here.”
I pull Gabby forward, positioning her in front of me. “Ben, this is Gabby. Gabby, this is Ben.”
Ben stands, shooting me an amused look over her head, but schools his expression at my glare. He offers Gabby his hand. “Nice to meet you at last. Jon’s talked about you, but always kicks me out before you come over. I assume now that we’ve met, I’ll be seeing you more often?”
He directs the last question at her, but his dark eyes meet mine as he drops her hand. Gabby looks between us, clearly unsure about the dynamic at play here.
I clear my throat. “Yes. Gabby’ll be around as much as Beth. Maybe more, since you spend most of your time together at her place.”
Ben nods. “Cool.” Then to Gabby. “Beth’s my girlfriend. Just so you’re clear, this jackass,” he points at me, “is telling me you’re his girlfriend now. You cool with that?”
Glancing between Ben and me again, Gabby’s mouth opens and her brows come down, but she doesn’t say anything.
I lean close to her. “Ignore him. He just likes to stir up shit.”
Ben holds up his hands, palms out, a smirk on his face. Gabby still looks unsure, but she tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at Ben again. “Yeah, I am. Nice to meet you.”
Ben grins. “Now that the introductions are out of the way, anyone need coffee? Tea? Water?”
Gabby glances at me over her shoulder again. “Um, water would be nice. Thank you.”
I step around her and punch Ben in the shoulder when he gives me a knowing smirk. “Shut up, dude,” I murmur when I’m close to him, following him into the kitchen.
He gives me a look of feigned innocence. “I’m not doing anything other than offering your new girlfriend a glass of water—which, by the way, is a surprising development. Since you hadn’t introduced us, I figured she was just the latest flavor of the week.” Cutting his eyes to the doorway to the living room, he leans in closer, his eyebrows raised. “So we’re clear, she’s a freshman, right?”
“Right.”
“Eighteen.”
“Yeah. Freshmen usually are. Until their birthdays.”
He snorts. “And you’re graduating in May and going back to California.”
“What’s your point, Ben?”
He shakes his head. “Just making sure I’ve got it all clear. You wanna date her, that’s your business, man. But she’s just a baby, so maybe dial back the intensity, okay?”
I stop, a glass of water in each hand, ready to go back to Gabby. “What are you talking about?”
He sighs and turns to face me head on, his arms crossed. “Dude. You’re the most intense guy I know. Mostly it’s a good thing. You’re very focused, and you get shit done. But in relationships, sometimes you come on too strong when you find a girl you like. And, let’s be honest. It’s been, what? Almost a year since you’ve been with a girl that was more than a friend with benefits?” He glances over his shoulder again. “She’s young. And shy.” I snort at the idea of Gabby being shy, but Ben ignores me.
When I open my mouth to answer, he holds up his hands and shakes his head. “We can talk more later if you want. I’m just sayin’, if you want to make it work with her, don’t wrap her up in your cocoon and not let her come up for air. It’s too much, especially for someone like her. And she’s just a freshman. She needs to figure out what she wants to do with herself, y’know?”
I nod, wanting to push back against a lot of what he’s saying. Gabby’s more mature than he’s giving her credit for. I told him about her some. But he doesn’t know how passionate she is about her music, how focused. How I get that better than most people. But there’s not time to argue about that, not with her waiting in the next room, and he probably wouldn’t listen anyway. He’d just give me that knowing look he gets when he thinks he knows better than me, and nod and say, “Okay, sure. If you say so.” Which is Ben’s way of saying, “I don’t want to argue with you, but I’m right and you’re wrong, and you’ll figure it out soon enough when your life blows up in your face.”
Instead, I bring Gabby her glass of water.
Ben follows me in and sits in the arm chair adjacent to the couch. “So, kids, any other plans today?”
I look at him, brows raised. “Why? You wanna double date or something?”
He cocks his head to the side, his fingernails rasping against the stubble along his jaw. “Hmm. There’s an idea. But Beth has a big paper due tomorrow, so I’m on my own tonight.”
“Yeah. You really are. I was planning on taking Gabby out to dinner.”
She glances at Ben, whose face is a picture of neutrality, then back at me. “Um, yeah. Dinner sounds good. I can’t stay out too late, though. I have theory homework and an eight o’clock class.”
Ben lets out a groan of pain. “Eight o’clocks are the worst. Didn’t anyone warn you?”
With a smirk, she turns to him. “Oh, yeah. My brother called me when I was getting ready to register for classes and gave me all the tips. But music majors have eight o’clock theory classes every day for the first two years. It’s the only time it’s offered. So I don’t have a choice.”
“That’s rough.”
She nods. “Tell me about it. My theory professor has us call our friends if they’re getting too close to missing too many classes.”
He chuckles. “Seriously? That’s nice. Most professors wouldn’t do that.”
“Yeah. We all call her Mama Williams because of things like that. She looks out for the freshmen. Our Sight Singing professor doesn’t do that, though. He almost seems like he’s just waiting to drop you for missing too many classes.”
Ben glances at me before looking back at her. “That’s quite the contrast. Well, it was nice to meet you, Gabby. I look forward to seeing you around again.”
I stand, and she looks up at me before standing too. “Yeah. It was nice to meet you too. See you.”
“Later, Ben,” I toss over my shoulder, relieved to lead Gabby out the door. Ben’s my friend and all, but I’m not ready to share Gabby’s attention with
anyone yet. I push aside Ben’s warning about being too intense. This isn’t me being intense. It’s just a date in reverse order.
We had dessert first.
Chapter Fourteen
Gabby
Jonathan drops me off at my dorm after a long dinner together, where we talked and laughed the whole time, the conversation flowing like we hadn’t had our first fight this afternoon. We went back to his house and made out in his room for a while before I had to come back. He pulls me close and kisses me goodnight, groaning when I’m about to get out of his car, “I don’t want to let you go already. I wish it were the weekend.”
I pat his chest and kiss him once more. “It’ll be Friday the day after tomorrow.”
“That’s so far away.”
I can’t help laughing at him. “See you tomorrow after rehearsal?”
He nods, his eyes bright.
Another kiss. This one long and lingering with lots of tongue.
When I pull back at last, I wipe my lower lip and grin at him. “I do have to go. It’s already after ten, and I need to finish my homework.”
He lets his hand fall away from its place on the back of my head, his fingers running through my hair one last time. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Gabby.”
Climbing out of the car, I blow him a kiss before I shut the door, then turn and wave before going in the building. I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Floating up the stairs to my room, I barely register the other girls I pass on my way up.
Lauren’s sitting at her desk when I come in. She looks up, takes in my appearance, and squeals. “You have to tell me everything!”
She knew I was going with Jonathan after Strings Seminar. Apparently our activities are more obvious than I realized.
I give her a coy smile and run my hands over my hair, smoothing it down. “I don’t know what you mean. Everything about what?”
“Whatever, woman. You totally got laid tonight. It’s written all over your face. And your hair looks like you just had a wild night in bed.” She sits up straighter, making gimme motions with her hands. “Come on. Give me all the details.”
I laugh. “I don’t think I’m up for sharing all the details, but I will say that Jonathan clearly knows what he’s doing.”
“Oooh. That’s a good start. You gotta give me more than that, though.” She tugs me to her bed and makes me sit, shoving clothes, her throw pillows, and a stuffed animal out of the way to make room for us. “Now tell me everything. He knows what he’s doing. That’s good. So he was big enough to satisfy you? I know people say size doesn’t matter, and it’s not everything, but it matters to some extent. Comeoncomeoncomeon. I need to know so I can live vicariously through you. I kissed his poster goodnight for like a year when I was in middle school. Please tell me he was amazing and hung like a horse so you don’t destroy my fantasy.”
I give her shoulder a playful shove. “I should tell you that he’s terrible in bed and has a tiny dick just to ruin your fantasies. I’m not sure I like you lusting after my boyfriend.”
One of Lauren’s eyebrows arches high on her forehead. “Your boyfriend, huh? Last time we talked about him you were just ‘hanging out.’” She makes big, dramatic quotation marks with her hands. “So this is getting serious? Not just a little fling where you get to live out your teeny-bopper boyband crush?”
Looking away, I give a little shrug. “It feels serious. But surreal too, y’know?” I look her in the eye again. “I mean, I like him, like really like him. For who he is, not just because I had his posters on my wall as a kid. I mean, that’s kind of a fun bonus, but he’s sweet and funny and a really good kisser and he lets me talk about music the same way you do without making me feel like a crazy weirdo. Even though he’s not formally trained or anything, he gets it. In the way that only another musician can.”
Lauren nods. “Yeah.” Her face is serious as she takes me in, then a sly smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. “So he’s a good kisser, huh? What else is he good at?” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I can’t help laughing.
“Yes. He’s very good at kissing … all over.”
She claps again. “Yay! Gabby got head! That’s great. I won’t date a guy who won’t go down on me. Especially if he expects it. Quid pro quo, man.”
My mouth pulls to one side in a crooked smile. “I don’t have much experience with either the quid or the pro quo in that scenario, but I can definitely get behind not dating someone who expects things he won’t do himself.”
Lauren’s mouth opens slightly as she looks me over. “Um, so, was he your first?”
“Oh, no. Well, not really. But he’s the first who’s done … that.”
“Not that it’s my business, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, and I’m not judging, more curious. How many other guys have you been with?”
I look away, suddenly very interested in pushing back my cuticles. My fingernails are getting a little long. Maybe I should’ve cut them before I played today. Would that have helped? Probably not. Nerves were more responsible for my disaster of a performance than slightly-too-long fingernails.
“Gabby?” Lauren’s voice has that needling quality it gets when she’s trying to drag information out of me. While we haven’t known each other very long, she’s weaseled more of my secrets out of me than anyone ever has before. But she’s also shared all of hers. And while I know a lot about her sexcapades, as she likes to call them, I haven’t shared much of mine.
“Hmm?” I respond, knowing full well she won’t let me get away without answering her question. I’ve always just let her talk about her own experiences and not divulged much about mine. Or my lack of experiences. Which is why she asked if Jonathan was my first, obviously. Plus, I just admitted to inexperience with oral sex, so it’s not unreasonable to think I’m inexperienced with other things.
“You know I’m not going to let this go. It’ll be easier for both of us if you tell me what I want to know instead of dragging this out for hours or days like when I asked you if you owned a vibrator.”
My cheeks go hot. I don’t blush often, but Lauren’s complete lack of filter or boundaries, has made me blush more in the last month than I probably have in my whole life. And my older brother isn’t known for self-censorship, so that’s saying something. Lauren hounded me for a week to get me to admit that I’d never owned a vibrator, and a week later, she gifted me with a shiny pink pocket rocket, saying, “This was the first kind I ever got, and it changed my life. Have fun!” And she gave me a wink and left for three hours.
Then she made me give her a detailed report about how great I thought it was when she came back.
I grab one of the pink pillows that coordinates with her comforter and toss it at her. “Fine. But only because I know you really won’t let it go. How many guys have I been with not counting Jonathan?”
“Right. Not counting Jonathan.” Her voice is neutral and even.
“One.”
She doesn’t say anything at first. Then, “Just one?”
I nod.
“And was it …?”
I shake my head. “No. Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer’s no. No, it wasn’t special. No, it wasn’t good. No, it didn’t last very long.”
“Oh, Gabby. Why not?”
I shrug, looking down at my cuticles again. “I just wanted to get it over with. He was a cute boy, and he was interested in me. We were at a party after graduation. The opportunity presented itself, and I took it. I didn’t even tell him I was a virgin. I didn’t bleed or anything, so he had no idea.”
Lauren looks appalled. “Why not? And even so, he didn’t take the time to make sure you enjoyed yourself? What a shitty lay.”
I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. The look on her face and her commentary about my first time is too much. “Yeah, well, Jonathan made up for it.”
“Good.”
I laugh again, but
she doesn’t.
“I’m not joking, Gabby. I know I have a perverted sense of humor—“
“More like the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old boy,” I cut in.
She waves that away. “But good sex is not a laughing matter. I can’t believe your first time was with someone so … awful.”
“He wasn’t awful.”
She gives me a look.
“Okay, fine. The sex was awful. He did kind of try. But there wasn’t enough foreplay, I don’t think. And when he tried to rub my clit, he didn’t seem to know what he was doing, so I just pretended like it was good so he’d finish sooner.”
Covering her ears with her hands, Lauren lets out a groan. “Stop. Just stop talking. I can’t take anymore. That’s so awful.” She brings her hands down and looks me in the eye, her gaze serious and unwavering. “Let’s pretend that never happened. Jonathan was your first. He went down on you and made sure you came, right? Did you come with him inside you too?”
“Uh, no.” I can’t believe we’re talking about this. Like it’s totally normal. Lauren has zero boundaries.
“Okay. Well, still. It’s better than the other guy.” She holds up her hand to stop me when I open my mouth to supply his name. “No, Gabby. I don’t want to know his name. As far as I’m concerned he doesn’t exist. Jonathan’s your first in any way that counts.”
“Um, okay.”
“But you’ve never gone down on a guy?”
“No.”
Lauren gets up and grabs her laptop, muttering to herself as she hunches over it and types, clicks a few times, and then sits up straight. On the screen is a woman kneeling in front of an erect penis.
“Whoa! Why are you showing me porn?”
Lauren’s look is all business. “Dude. You need to know how to give a blowjob. Trust me. You’ll thank me later.”
She spends the next hour showing me different videos, educating me on a variety of techniques, pointing out variations to try. My cheeks are hot at the beginning, but her matter-of-fact approach and emphasis on the importance of this sex act sort of normalizes the fact that I’m watching porn with my roommate.
Double Exposition (Songs and Sonatas Book 1) Page 9