Chapter Thirty-One Gemma
Chapter Thirty-One
Gemma
The redness and irritation have somewhat subsided by the time I’m getting ready for April and James’s engagement dinner.
Fortunately, after a few scans, the optometrist determined there wasn’t any damage to my corneas and sent me home with medicated eye drops and strict instructions to avoid contact lenses for a week.
Apparently, the crusty gunk around my eyes was an increase of mucus due to the contacts as a protective response to the irritation.
Hot. Nothing says sexy quite like excessive corneal discharge and a penis face-slapping the night after a decent shag.
I’m sure Max was very aroused.
To his credit, he stayed with me throughout the entire appointment, helping me fill out paperwork and asking questions where necessary.
He even insisted on taking the same Uber home as me, stopping by my flat first to ensure I got home safely.
He might be a cocky prick, but he’s a gentleman when he wants to be.
And, oddly enough, I enjoyed his company. Not just the naked, sweaty parts of his company that I already knew were worth my time, but the fully clothed, conversational bits as well.
The whole way to the appointment he kept chatting, asking about my studies and first job in marketing. I knew it was a distraction, and it worked. His barrage drew me out of my discomfort almost completely, so much so, I found myself laughing with him.
His overconfident swagger and wicked hands, I can deal with. Sex, I can compartmentalize and file away as nothingness. But his kindness and attentiveness? I don’t quite know what to make of it.
I turn off the curling iron and ruffle my hair to bring volume to the roots before swiping crimson across my lips.
Stepping back, I assess myself in the mirror. Thankfully, the glasses and bold lip draw attention away from the faint redness lingering in my eyes.
I’ve paired black pumps with a soft, high-waisted skirt that finishes just above my knees and a cropped halter neck, which leaves my back bare.
This is as good as it’ll get.
Now, I just need to avoid direct eye contact with Max.
“Jesus Christ, did someone fuck your eye sockets?” Will bellows as April pops the cork on a champagne bottle.
“Ever the gentleman, Will. It’s a pleasure to be in your company again,” I say, my expression stoic as I take a seat at the kitchen bench.
Will is the lead guitarist in Atlas Veil, and has been close friends with James for years. Unfortunately, he has the IQ of a goldfish and hasn’t stopped hitting on me since we met.
“You still look hot,” he says.
“It’s never going to happen.” I fix him with a stern look.
He shrugs. “Worth a try.”
“Will!” April admonishes.
James casually reaches over and claps Will over the back of his head.
“Oi, what was that for?” Will asks James.
“You’re a dickhead,” James deadpans.
Tom, the lead singer in Atlas Veil and longtime friend of James, snickers throughout the entire exchange. Will and Tom are trouble when they’re together.
I’ve been here precisely seven minutes, and in that time, Basil—April’s cat—has taken a shit on the utility room floor, Tom’s spilt his drink all over the good rug, and Lucas has stormed outside in a huff over something James said.
Caroline, James’s mum, sweeps into the kitchen to attempt damage control, shooing April away from the charcuterie board, taking the champagne bottle from her and seamlessly assuming hosting duties.
“Will, what have I told you about internal thoughts?” Caroline asks, pouring me a bubbly.
Will’s sheepish gaze drops to the floor like a toddler in trouble. “That they don’t always need to be voiced.”
“Very good,” she says with a patient smile. “Now you can have a beer.”
“Yes!” He pumps his arm in excitement. He and Tom grab a couple of beers and head out to the courtyard.
My eyes scan the room, noticing we’re a band member short. “Where’s Oliver?”
Oliver is James’s closest friend and the drummer for Atlas Veil.
Unlike Will and Tom, who share approximately one functioning brain cell between them, Oliver is genuinely great company.
He’s the kind of man who remembers your birthday and doesn’t ask inappropriate questions about your sex life within thirty seconds of saying hello.
Not that I never do that—I do—but I have my limits for who those questions extend to, i.e.
, April and Anna. Oh, and sometimes Henry.
“Speak of the devil,” James says, popping a piece of salami into his mouth.
Our heads swivel as Oliver joins us in the kitchen with a gleeful smile.
“Team,” he says, nodding to us in greeting. We chorus our hellos as he pulls April in for a hug, congratulating the soon-to-be-wedded couple.
James snags a second piece of salami, throws me a cheeky wink, and grabs two beers—one for himself and one for Oliver—before heading out to join the testosterone convention in the garden. Caroline and Peter, James’s father, follow them.
“So,” April says, bumping me with her hip the moment they’re out of earshot. “What did happen to your eyes?”
I do a quick once-over like a detective to ensure Anna and Max haven’t quietly arrived.
“I left my contacts in overnight,” I confess in a hushed tone.
This requires no further explanation. Both Anna and April know my foolproof escape plan—that I strategically wear my daily wear contact lenses to hookups specifically to avoid sleepovers.
Her eyes widen comically.
“You slept at Max’s?” she whisper-shouts.
“It was an accident,” I insist. “I fell asleep. It wasn’t intentional.”
“Gemma.” She gapes at me, stunned. “This is a big deal.”
“It is not a big deal,” I say, waving her off.
James sneaks in, sauntering by at the worst moment, grabbing yet another beer from the fridge. How many are these guys putting away? We haven’t started eating yet.
“What’s not a big deal?” James asks.
“Gemma stayed at a guy’s house last night,” April blurts.
I release a tiresome exhale. Though, I’m really pleased she hasn’t disclosed mine and Max’s little arrangement to James.
Then again, I’m not surprised. She’s one of the most loyal people I know, but my pulse races as if I’m standing under a spotlight.
“Gemma,” James echoes, equally stunned. “That is a big deal.”
“It is not a big deal,” I hiss through gritted teeth.
“What’s not a big deal?” Anna’s voice cuts through our little huddle, causing all three of us to jump in surprise.
April freezes and glares at me. She doesn’t deal well under pressure and can’t think on the spot to save her life. She’s too innocent—too pure. Her eyes scream What do we do? while mine plead Act normal, for the love of God.
The three of us turn to see Anna, Mason, and Max stroll in together.
My mouth instantly dries. Anna looks beautiful—she always does—but Max. Devastatingly handsome.
He’s wearing a crisp white button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the perfect forearms that had me pinned to his mattress last night. Dark tailored slacks fit him perfectly, and his loafers probably cost more than my entire monthly salary.
The bastard looks like he just stepped off a runway while I look like I have a bad case of pink eye.
He casually slips his hands into his trouser pockets, and his eyes latch onto mine from across the room. Fire licks at my skin and I feel a faint blush creep up my neck.
Anna gasps in surprise and her eyes narrow on me. “What the fuck happened to your eyes?”
“I slept in my contacts,” I say.
“Oh, hon.” She leans in closer to inspect my face. “Your eyes are as red as the devil’s dick!”
“Gemma stayed at a guy’s house last night,” James announces with the subtlety of a foghorn.
I choke on my champagne, banging my fist against my chest to clear my throat.
Anna is wide-eyed. “Shit. That is a big deal,” she says, reaching across the island to cut herself a piece of cheese. “Who’s the lucky guy?” she asks around the mouthful. My blood pressure drops to zero because the guy happens to be standing three feet away from us both.
I quickly turn my head to look at Max, who is doing a fabulous job at schooling his expression. I’m glad one of us is keeping their cool, because inside, I’m absolutely shitting myself.
“You don’t know him,” April rushes, jumping in to rescue me.
Anna’s brows pull together. “And you do?” she asks April, suspicion creeping into her tone.
April’s eyes bounce around the room like a ping-pong ball. Good Lord, this is hopeless. She’s the worst liar on the planet.
“N-No,” she stammers. Her voice isn’t convincing at all.
“Help yourself to some champagne,” I deflect, gesturing to the open bottle with my glass.
“Ooo!” Anna claps before pouring a flute of champagne.
My insides clench like I’m preparing for a punch as I divert my gaze, attempting to look anywhere but at Max.
I suddenly find the side of April’s head fascinating.
But my attempt at avoidance is squandered as Max invades my space, the scent of his smoky cologne wrapping around me.
He leans down, his warm breath dusting against my ear as he whispers roughly, “You look beautiful.”
Three words spoken low enough that only I can hear them. I’m acutely aware that there are four other people in this kitchen, including his sister.
I take a large gulp of champagne, desperate to extinguish the wildfire spreading through me.
I look up, locking onto his aquamarine gaze.
“Hi, Max,” I manage, keeping my voice as even as possible.
A small smile tips the corner of his lips. “Hi.”
“Max, it’s so great to see you!” April exclaims, shattering our bubble.
She rounds the island and reaches up on tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck.
Her enthusiasm is entirely innocent, but a hideous feeling—something uninvited—threatens to blanket me.
I remind myself they’ve known each other for years and April is marrying James.
“I’m so happy you’re here! I have to introduce you to James,” she says, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her.
Max is all charm and charisma as he introduces himself to the rock star, the two instantly hitting it off and discussing travel and work.
What the hell is wrong with you, Gemma? You don’t do jealousy. Especially with men you’re casually sleeping with.
Suddenly, the remaining six weeks look like an eternity.
“Mason!” I say, scooting off the barstool and pulling him in for a hug. “It’s so nice to see you. It’s been ages!”
Mason’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, not like it usually does, as he greets us. “Hey, Gem. It’s good to see you.”
He moves on to greet April, who shares a brief worried glance with me before continuing our small talk, discussing how we all are, what we’ve all been up to, and how work’s going.
Throughout the entire conversation, I notice that Mason doesn’t touch Anna once—not like he used to. The conversation is stiff and forced. They’ve never shied away when it comes to public displays of affection.
Max’s jaw ticks as Mason catches us up on his latest news. It’s been a long time since either April or I have seen Mason, and I can’t help but wonder if Max knows something we don’t. Something about Anna and Mason’s relationship that he’s keeping close to his chest.
I’m pulled from my thoughts as everyone from outside files in. Lucas enters wearing a scorned look that suggests he’s miserable, and I revel in it.
I’ll never forgive him for hurting April the way he did, even if she’s happier than she’s ever been.
Will and Tom nurse two large trays piled high with different cuts of succulent barbecued meats and colorful salads. The aroma hits me, and my mouth waters.
As Anna, April, James, and Caroline fuss about gathering cutlery, plates, and glasses, Will drops the tray to the kitchen counter with the delicacy of an elephant. His eyes lock onto mine with disconcerting intensity.
“Ew, what?” I ask, shifting and feeling mildly uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
A wolfish smile spreads across his face, and I scrunch my nose in repulsion.
“I’m sitting next to you.”
Anna chokes on her champagne, stifling her laugh.
This day just keeps getting better and better.