2. Gemma
TWO
GEMMA
Aside from the burning coffee currently scalding my trachea and endangering my breathing, there is an entirely different pain gouging my insides right now. The one from my best friend—the man who I’ve always been absolutely positive is meant for me, the same way I was most certainly made for him—ripping away the chance for us to bloom into what we should be by telling me that he’s fallen for someone else.
I wave him off as he tries to help me clear my pipes, pretending this is intentional or some shit. I don’t even know what I’m doing right now. I just know that he can’t be close to me at this exact moment.
The fact that he wants me to meet her means it’s serious. It’s been ages since he’s brought a girlfriend into our lives. He stopped introducing me to his casual dates several years back, after one too many incredibly awkward meetings and group hangs where I got the stink eye more than he got the flirts and giggles. He said the ratio of action to reaction was all wrong , and it wasn’t worth the trouble, that they just didn’t get us, and he was going to stop trying to push it before the time was right.
The girls tended to be instantly jealous of our friendship, marking me as a threat, a target to be taken out. Rather than fight the same battle and work to convince them of the same thing over and over, he laid down a new rule in our friendship. He would only introduce us if it was serious, steady, and he thought they might be able to go long term.
So he stopped having the women in his life hang out with me, and started delineating our time together. Yes, I see him daily for my job, but we started carving out our own friend-time, completely separate from work, away from his latest lady love. A time for us to just be us .
That’s when our Sunday night rituals became sacred to us. No matter what is happening in either of our lives, unless he is needed on set for a specific shot, Sunday nights are our time together. Where we chill, and it’s just Aaron and Gem. Like it’s always been. We usually binge a fantasy show or movie, or maybe duel in an epic battle of Mario Kart (I usually win, obviously, but Aaron would tell you otherwise).
Except… You know how life gets. You have routines, then…sometimes shit gets too busy.
That’s been us lately.
We’ve been a little distant in recent months, it’s true. He’s well underway in filming his current season. I’m taking care of the rest of his life while he does. He did fly to LA a couple times back in February and March for meetings and to make sure his face was seen by those who matter. Between some late hours on set and just general…life, I guess? We haven’t seen as much of each other for a while.
But if there’s one sure thing about us, we always come back together. Consciously or unconsciously, we drift back into each other’s orbit, are drawn together again no matter the time or distance, because even the universe knows we belong together.
That’s what last night was. A reset for us. A return to routine. To how things should be. We must’ve passed out after catching up on House of the Dragon instead of me shuttling home as I usually do, but how we ended up in each other’s arms, my ass practically grinding in his lap? I’ve got questions.
But right now, I’ve got a more important question. Several of them, actually. Did I practically assault a man who is in a relationship? A man who obviously wanted nothing to do with me? Who physically threw me off the couch and ran to get away from me and my wandering hips ?
I start with one of the only thoughts I can bring myself to voice aloud. “Who?” If my voice sounds hollow, void of depth and life, he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Kayla.” His one-word answer seems to insinuate I have all the data I need here, but I don’t. I really don’t.
“You guys are back together? I thought you broke up!” Okay, my voice is definitely higher pitched now, practically squealing in singing my innocence for the indecent couch episode, but again, he gives no indication he notices.
“Well…we did, but we’re kinda back together now. I think it’s going somewhere for real this time.”
Is she the reason I’ve been seeing less of him lately? I find myself speechless, and busy my mouth by taking a sip of my latte, down the right pipe for a change, eyebrows raised in encouragement for him to continue.
“You know what they say, sometimes you don’t know what you have until it’s gone?”
I swallow down more than my coffee. I try to rid myself of those treacherous thoughts from the couch, force down my guilt, my pain at yet another silent rejection from him, all of it, and put on a weak smile for his benefit.
“Mmm,” I murmur in understanding, the best I can do at the moment. My eyes stay trained on the large apron sink underneath the kitchen window, early morning sunlight reflecting off the ceramic surface. Watch those rays reflect and break around the room, the way I’m pretty sure my insides are doing the more he talks.
“Anyway, we’ve been getting pretty serious this time around, and I think it’s time for you guys to finally meet. I’ve told her a million stories about us, she’s dying to meet you.”
I bet she fucking is. I’d be dying to meet the woman who’s spent more hours with my man than away from him for more than a decade, too, if I were her .
“Why am I just now hearing about you guys getting back together?” I ask, trying not to sound accusatory, but I know some suspicion is shining through. I just hope it doesn’t give me away.
He holds his hands up in self-defense, looking as innocent and wholesome as he always does, that boy-next-door charisma that made him a fan favorite in full swing. “I dunno, Gem…I didn’t wanna, you know…” He hesitates to finish that sentence, and my hackles raise.
“No, I don’t. You didn’t want to tell me you think you found the one? That’s kind of a big fucking deal, Aaron.”
He finally takes a bite of his breakfast, starting with the eggs on toast, but I’m too worked up to try to put food in my stomach right now. I watch him chew and swallow, taking his time before he continues.
“I didn’t want to make you feel bad, Gem. I know you’re not seeing anyone right now, and it’s been a while for you, so I didn’t wanna, like, rub it in or anything.”
Far from appeased, I feel even worse than before he’d clarified his thoughts. Poor little Gemma, never goes on dates, can’t keep a man to save her life, better not tell her how happy you are in your relationship. In fact, better not even tell her you’re in one at all!
I’m not usually this bitter with him, but this is the third woman he’s introduced me to since we put that rule in place five years ago—which makes me wonder how many others I haven’t known about—and it’s starting to sting .
I must be the idiot here for not expecting it by now. For thinking things between us were really headed in the right direction. That crossroads with the two arrows, one clearly labeled platonic , and the other, labeled more . Have we been wandering different trails all this time, and I’m the idiot who’s lost in the woods? Am I the one who misread the clues on the map marked with the X of where we’re supposed to end up?
He’s never patronized me for being single before, though, and that’s a rude awakening I wasn’t ready for. Does he not see what’s between us? How rare of a connection we have? That the only reason I’m single is so that I can be with him?
We share all the same interests, we’ve been inseparable since seventh grade. What we’ve been through together, the bond we share because of it. Does he not see that I’m what he’s been looking for in all of these women all along?
No. He obviously doesn’t. He sees his best friend, someone he introduces to these sexy women as like a kid sister to him, someone he makes dirty jokes with, farts and burps around, and can’t even entertain the thought of me hooking up with a guy because, in his words, just, gross, Gem.
“Can’t wait to meet her,” is all I can manage. I chug the rest of my coffee, leaving my plate of food untouched, before plastering the fakest smile I’ve ever generated to my face and storming off toward my bedroom down the hall, where I keep a dresser full of spare clothes for when I crash here.
“Gem,” he calls after me softly, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. If I do, he’ll see the tears I couldn’t hold back. He’ll know what else I’ve been holding back from him all these years. And it’s painfully clear to me now, all those feelings are extremely one-sided.