25. Gemma
TWENTY-FIVE
GEMMA
I spent the night alternating between pacing my room and attempting to sleep, lying in bed, staring at the wall in front of me, but instead of seeing my actual surroundings, all that swam in front of my vision was the same two men’s faces.
My own personal purgatory. The perfect mix of heaven and hell.
One, a man who has brought me so much joy, encouraged me to be who I am, given me nothing but goodness in the few months we’ve shared together.
But he still isn’t the other.
The one whose face I may never be able to stop seeing when I close my eyes.
The one who has been my other half in life, in every sense but the romantic one, until these past few months.
Even his…erratic behavior, the unexpected dickishness that seemed to come out of nowhere, the angst between us lately and the pain he’s caused me over the past few months…it’s not enough to erase all the good we’ve had between us. All the good that could still be there.
I don’t expect you to understand, you’ve only known him during what’s undoubtedly been the worst period of his entire life. But I see him still in there. The one who sat up with me all night to console me, keep me from falling into a depression during the teenage drama that’s all but unavoidable in the middle and high school years. The guy who turns to me first when he has news to celebrate. A downfall he needs commiserating on. The kid who has made me smile every day for more than a decade, just because he’s him . My favorite person.
He’s not gone.
He’s confused, maybe. He’s clearly gone through a personality transplant or two recently, but I see him still in there, he was staring back at me from those clear, flecked, gemstone eyes on the couch last night.
It’s like he’s on the brink of a newfound clarity on things between us; I can see the awareness brewing, these flashes of certainty that were never there before, and I owe him the chance to work through it. For him. For both of us.
And because I can’t lie to myself anymore.
I need to know what is on the other side of those revelations that are so clearly on his horizon.
As mad as I’ve been at this kid, as much as I am going to make him pay for what he’s pulled… I still love him. I always have. I might fucking hate him right now, but the depth of that hate, those feelings, it just goes to show how much love there is for him inside of me. It wouldn’t have hurt so bad if I didn’t feel so goddamn much for him in the first place.
And try as I might’ve, I can’t just flick a switch and stop caring about him. Stop loving him.
Blaming his behavior on being triggered by seeing me with a boyfriend for the first time in his life would be making excuses that he doesn’t deserve. Trust me when I say I’m not going to run into his waiting arms and let him get away with this shit.
He has a long way to go to get back in my good graces.
But it isn’t fair to Spencer to keep stringing him along, to keep this facade up of a happy couple when I know my heart belongs to my best friend.
Somehow, with the realization that his heart might just be mine too, that he is starting to see what I’ve always known…it’s changed everything for me. The picture I was trying so hard to keep in front of me? The one of a happy future for me and Spencer…that vision has been shattered, and there’s no going back to the mindset I had only yesterday. I can’t keep up the pretense anymore.
I tried to love Spencer, and I did a pretty good job enjoying our time together, but it just isn’t right. Unfaithful is such a dirty word, but last night, I had the realization slam into me that it’s exactly what my head and my heart have been to him. I can’t keep going like this. That’s not who I am. It’s not what he deserves.
As I paced, as I laid in bed, then got up and paced again, I thought about every possible way to move forward from here. None of them are good. None feel like something where everyone wins. We will all get hurt. But I need to be honest with myself, with Spencer. He’s earned that, and I can’t do any more wrong by him.
By the time the sun crests the peaks of the distant Blue Ridge mountains—far, far outside my bedroom window—illuminating the treetops and turning them golden in the early morning light, I know what I have to do.
I’m waiting outside the entrance to Spencer’s apartment when he strolls up to it, whistling, just after seven. There’s a smart somewhere deep inside my ribcage at the sight of him. Happy, calm (always calm), at peace with himself, his life. My knees buckle as a wave of chickening out hits me. I don’t want to be the one to take his joy away from him. But once I realized I’ve been lying to myself, lying to him… I can’t live with that, either. So I’m here to do what needs to be done. And I’m willing to pay the penance for my part in all of this, whatever that looks like.
It takes him a few seconds to notice me, his eyes down on his black messenger bag, slung over one shoulder and across his chest. By the time he’s scavenged his keys out of his bag, his reusable water bottle in his other hand, he looks up and takes me in, and a damn smile breaks out across his face. Who is this guy? He’s too pure for this world, honestly.
“Hey you,” he calls out to me, in this wholesome, yet impossibly seductive way, as he veers off his path to come greet me by the wall I’ve been leaning up against for the past hour and a half. “This is a lot better than the evening I had in mind.” His soft smile spreads throughout his entire face, lighting up his eyes, and I let it warm me, basking in it for the last time.
I kick off the wall just as he nears me, allowing myself to get wrapped up in a hug by him one more time. The peace, the comfort in this man’s arms has been an absolute treat these past months. I’m not lying to myself, or to you, when I say I’m going to miss him. But I know he is worth more than I can give him, when so much of me belongs to someone else.
I can feel him pressing his cheek to the top of my head, gripping me a little tighter, and I already know he knows why I’m here.
“How was your day?” I mumble against his chest, because fuck if I know how to start this conversation.
He pulls back from me, rubbing my back as he does so, and tucks me into his side with one arm as we make our way to the front door. Spencer tells me all about the seventeen realistic zombie body parts he had to make today for the extras on the season that’s about to kick off filming— it was a pretty slow day —as he unlocks the main door and guides me through the lobby, to the elevator, and all the way into his place.
“You’re not here to ask me about props, are you?” he asks me with a sad little half smile, once we’re through his door and standing in the small living room.
I shake my head rapidly, letting my gaze fall to the ground, before getting the guts to meet him in the eyes again.
He swallows heavily and bounces his head a few times, accepting what’s coming. He’s so fucking mature. Aaron would never react like this. Exhibit A: that time I quit as his assistant. Or even his reaction to me last night. Then again, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please examine Exhibit B: every other breakup he’s ever had. He was never a dick to those gals. I’m starting to think it’s just me he can’t let go of. And I think he’s seeing that too. This little gurgle of hope flies up through my stomach at the thought, straight up into my gullet; it feels like a few butterflies got loose in there, and it strengthens me, reminds me what I’m here for, what’s waiting for me on the other side.
I follow his lead, taking a seat on the small, slightly worn, navy sofa and face him. One of my Toms-clad feet is tucked under the other knee, and I try like hell not to jiggle it out of nervousness.
He stares, politely waiting for me to talk, and I realize, for the hundred and forty-third time today, there’s no easy way to start this, so I just let it come out.
“I’m sorry.” My fingers fiddle with the drawstring on my zip-up hoodie, and I force myself to look in him the eyes again.
The sadness there, the understanding in those clear, deep green beauties, it makes me want to stop talking before I’ve even said anything.
“You deserve better than I’ve given you,” I tell him. I’ve never broken up with someone before, and while I could truthfully tell him it’s not him, it’s me, I promised myself I’d be honest with him, so here goes.
“I haven’t been super fair to you, Spence.” The question is in his eyes, but his lips stay sealed. “I, uh…” My fingers play with that drawstring a little more frantically as I struggle for the words. “I’ve kinda, sorta always had a thing for Aaron.” My eyes shoot back up to his, terrified of what they’ll find there. Judgment? Cruelty? Mockery? But of course it’s just more understanding that shines back at me, and I think that’s even worse.
“I tried to move on. I thought I was ready to give up on a future with him. It…” I swallow, more of a gulp, really, as I take a second to buck up and force myself to say the words. “It wasn’t fair to you, to put you in that position. I…He’s been my world since we were twelve. I’m not ready to give up on that.”
My eyes dart around the room before landing back on his, where they still just watch me, absorbing everything I’m saying, everything I’m not.
“You’re great,” I start, before realizing how trite that sounds. “No,” I shake my head fervently, adamantly. “Like, really, really fucking great, Spence. You’re amazing, actually. Zero complaints. Ten out of ten, would date again,” I try to lighten the mood. He rewards me with a little smile, and I’m thankful for it. “It’s just…you deserve someone who can give you all of herself. Who appreciates everything you have to offer. Who isn’t hung up on someone else. And I’m really, really sorry to say, that’s not me.”
One of my hands drops the drawstring to tuck a piece of loose hair back behind my ear, and I manage to look at him again.
His eyelids close for a second longer than a standard blink, his nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, and I wonder, really wonder, what he’s thinking. I get this weird flash of seeing inside his head—I’m not crazy, I swear. It’s just this impression of his thoughts, there and gone in a blink, but somehow I just know this isn’t the first time he’s come in second place. Which is a fucking shame. He’s the best guy I’ve ever dated, by fucking far . He deserves someone devoted, drama-free, and who puts him first. I say a silent curse to Aaron for making sure that person isn’t me.
“I’m really sorry,” I whisper.
He shakes his head with determination. “Don’t be. I knew there was…history with you two. I just hoped it was over.”
A single drop of emotion bridges the rim of my left eye and falls, making its way down my cheek, and he wipes it away quickly, still caring, still thoughtful, still more than I deserve.
“It’s always been him,” I admit out loud. It always will be is what I don’t say, but he hears that, too.
Spencer nods staunchly in acceptance, and I don’t know how I get through the next few minutes. There’s a few more words exchanged, a hug where I’m wrapped in his arms one more time than I deserve and I can’t help but soak it in, while still comparing those same arms to Aaron’s. I wish him the best—and genuinely mean it—and he doesn’t even tell me to fuck off, which, kudos to him. If I was falling in love with someone and they told me they were in love with someone else but they wished me the best, I’m not so sure I’d be that mature. I really do hope he finds his person soon. But honestly, with how bitter I’m feeling about the guy I’m all but positive is mine, maybe it’s better he doesn’t.
Eventually, I’m back in my car, driving home, stewing over all that’s happened. And seriously, fuck Aaron for putting me in this position. For making me think there was no hope for us, letting me find someone truly goddamn amazing, and then smashing it to shit right when it got great. For the first time, I had someone and something of my own that was dependable, stable. Things were fucking perfect with me and Spencer, or close to it. Aaron had no right to pull the shit he did.
It took me weeks and weeks after quitting to snap out of that funk he put me in with his cruel words, the careless way he treated me toward the end. And months of dating someone truly incredible to feel secure enough to come into my own along the way. And apparently that was exactly what he’d been waiting for all this time.
Bitterness coats my tongue, an acrid flavor that I’ve never associated with my best friend before, but it’s going to take a lot to get this taste out of my mouth.
Was I not good enough for him on my own? Or was it when he saw that someone else appreciated what I have to offer that it hit home for him? Or maybe it was the changes I’ve gone through on a personal level that resonated for him? As mad at him as I am, I still have hope that he’s not so shallow that it’s my new hair and wardrobe, but the thought still stings, like squeezing a lemon for a cocktail and realizing you have sixteen tiny paper cuts on your pointer finger you didn’t know where there until the juice dribbles down and finds them. The insecurity of this will eat me the fuck alive if I let it, and I make the decision not to let it.
The simple truth is that I have loved Aaron since my heart was capable of loving anyone other than my parents and myself.
I know he’s loved me just as long, but it’s never been in the same way, not until recently. And whatever flipped that switch, whatever brought that change in him, that’s on him .
I have questions, and I will need answers, but he’d better give me the space I fucking asked for for the time being. He will severely regret it if he pushes me too fast on this. I don’t want to see his face for a long damn time. I need to calm down, I need to process everything he said to me the other night, what it means for me, our friendship, our future, and whether, at this point, I’m still willing to risk what we had for what we could be. If he even knows what the fuck he wants from me.
What we had is gone either way, truth be told. I know there’s no going back to it now. So my real question is if I can get past these past few months of shitty behavior, if I can envision a future where I don’t hold that against him for all eternity.
Honestly? Not sure that I can.
Also not sure that I can go on without him, either. That I would ever get over him, not fully. I’d probably always be comparing the arms I was in to his. I’d probably always be picturing his eyes when I stared into someone else’s. Wondering if the ecstasy of another man moving inside of me felt just like he would. And that just pisses me off even more.
All that I know right now is that I need time . I want nothing to do with him for a while. I just want to do my thing, live my life, enjoy my new job, and let myself process all that’s gone down.
Except when I make the final turn and pull onto my street, an all-too-familiar sand-colored G-Wagen is in front of my house. And I know I’m not getting my wish anytime soon.