Chapter Twelve
Two
She makes it difficult to hate her.
Having her in my space last night and showing her Cedarwood was…nice. Even Dax doesn’t have the patience to sit and listen to my ramblings. Gemma, to her credit, took everything in that I said and then asked questions that proved she was interested.
Of course the first girl to not think me and my hobbies were freakish would be my mortal enemy.
You’re being dramatic again, Two.
I try to ignore the warring thoughts in my mind. On one hand, I want to ignore her and pretend she doesn’t exist. Each night since I met her in the flesh, I’ve lain awake in bed, thinking about that picture with her name on the wall. It hurts being around her. Knowing her. Talking to her.
On the other hand, she’s clever, quick-witted, and clearly talented. I like that she puts up with my bullshit and keeps squaring off with me, no matter how much of a dick I am. It means she’s a worthy adversary. A challenge.
This morning, in class, we actually talked about our project and there was no animosity. Afterward, she even waved and said she’d call me later. My chest tightened and my dick perked.
Finding her attractive is my biggest problem right now.
I just can’t go there with her.
“So sorry I’m late,” Tate cries out as he hops out of his Jeep. “They were out of butterscotch flavoring. I was so upset that they allowed that to happen!”
“You got me something else?”
He nods as he hands me a coffee. “Not butterscotch, but it’s buttered caramel. Probably as close as they could get. I took a sip and it’s tasty. If you don’t want it, I’ll drink it too.”
The man is already buzzing on caffeine. The last thing he needs is an extra helping. Nah, I’ll take one for the team, even if it’s nasty as fuck.
Luckily, I sip it and actually like it.
“It’ll do, donkey.”
Tate sniggers, clearly getting my Shrek reference, and leads the way to his office. Once inside, we do our thing—him setting all his crap down on his desk and me getting the fireplace going. Finally, a few minutes later, we sit down by the fire to chat and enjoy our coffees.
“Update on Golden,” I say, not meeting his stare. “She’s kind of cool.”
Tate chuckles and leans forward, eyebrows lifted in a way that shows he’s delighted about this revelation. “Do tell. I want the tea.”
A smile tugs at my lips and I shrug, hoping I can make it go away. “We went to our project site. Spent a lot of time there. Got kicked out. I took her back to my place and—”
Tate gasps, covering his mouth. “You what? Tell me!”
“Not that,” I say with a chuffed laugh. “We ate dinner and I showed her Cedarwood Mansion. She liked it.”
“It sounds like you’re taking the time to get to know her. I’m proud of you, Two.”
“I don’t know.” I sip my coffee and stare at the fireplace, drifting back to last night. I’d stolen glances of her as she marveled over my model. She really is pretty. “She could just be fucking with me.”
Tate’s lips press together and he sets his coffee down. “Why would she be doing that? What would her motive be?”
“Make me feel stupid?”
“That’s your insecurities talking,” Tate says gently. “Could it be that she’s really just a nice girl and you two got off on the wrong foot?”
“Maybe,” I mutter grumpily.
“Why is it so difficult for you to like her? There’s something I’m missing here.”
Unease sours the coffee in my gut. “Call it intuition.”
“That doesn’t sound like intuition. It sounds like your mind is trying to self-sabotage this relationship for you.” He reaches over and pats my knee. “What makes it so hard to let people in? You let me in and we’re practically best buds now.”
My lips curl into a grin. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
“She could be another friend, you know. You just have to allow her to be. It doesn’t have to be romantic. Having a good, solid, supportive friend is just as important as any romantic relationship. It fills a need your heart aches for. Denying yourself like this is cruel to you, Two.”
“I just…” I bite my tongue. I seriously don’t want to get into the whole ordeal with him. Maybe one day. “I’ll try.”
It sounds vaguely like a lie, but I do mean it.
If I can make nice with Gemma for this project, it’ll make things go a lot smoother. When the semester is over, she’ll be out of my life again, this time for good.
“I’m proud of you,” Tate says. “You’re in charge of your own happiness. It’s okay to ease into it little by little. I know you’re capable of this.”
Thankfully, I’m able to steer the conversation away from Gemma and back to the Enneagram. We spend the rest of our session discussing the different types. He gives me some more handouts and resources for me to read up on. I also get his phone number so I can text him whenever. Sure, Dad is paying him, but I can already tell Tate is someone I could be friends with even outside of our therapist/patient relationship.
“Have fun this weekend,” Tate tells me when we’re finished. “If you meet up with Golden again, I want to hear all about it.”
I wave him off, ignoring the tightening in my chest.
I’m looking forward to seeing her again, maybe locked away in my shed with me. The fact that this is a stupid fantasy of mine makes me cringe.
A weekend off from Gemma is more than needed.
She’s working her way under my skin.
The pool hall is busy as fuck tonight. Cars are jammed into every spot and it’s only by pure luck that we snag a place in the damn lot when someone leaves. Dax is his usual chipper self, dressed to impress. If he’s on the prowl for a hookup, it’ll happen.
I, however, am not.
The last thing I want is to date or be with someone.
That shit sounds exhausting.
Dax hops out of my Rover and leads the way, giving a chin lift to a group of girls. I ignore them altogether, striding to catch up to my eager friend.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” I demand. “It’s just pool.”
“I want you to meet my friends from class,” Dax says, bumping me with his shoulder. “I told you. Time for you to get out of your shell and meet some people.”
“Can’t it just be us?”
“It’ll always be just us,” Dax says with a boyish grin that reminds me of our childhood, “but we can also hang with other people too to spice things up.”
I grunt at his response, following him into the pool hall. It reeks of beer. The clacking of balls, loud hum of chatter, and offensive country music on the jukebox all nearly have me turning on my heel to hightail it back to my car.
But then I see her.
Gemma fucking Park.
I recognize her long, sleek dark hair and the animated way she talks with another girl around her age. Her artsy nails—nails I now know she did herself—move wildly as she talks, clearly with both her hands and her mouth. The blonde next to her sees me staring and shoots me the bird.
It reminds me of middle school. Dax suddenly became one of the popular kids while I was still his weirdo best friend who went everywhere with him. While Dax didn’t care, the other popular kids did. They always did shit like smart off to me or flip me off or fucking sneer when he wasn’t looking.
And even though I act like that doesn’t hurt, it does.
It always fucking does.
Gemma turns to see where the blonde is looking and when her eyes latch onto mine, she doesn’t flip me off. No, her gaze brightens and she beams at me. The sting in my chest is immediately soothed. How Gemma of all people made that happen, I have no idea.
“Holy shit,” Gemma says, bouncing over to me. “How weird for us to run into each other here!”
I’m stunned when she launches herself at me and hugs me. I remain stiff with my arms at my sides, but I do inhale the scent of her hair. I wonder if it’s the hair mask. Definitely worth the two grand.
She pulls back and grins. “Me and Aubrey were holding a table for Dempsey and Spencer. You two should play with us until they get here.”
Dax nudges me with his elbow and mutters under his breath, “Hang with your girl, man. I’ll be right over there.”
Before I can beg him not to leave me alone, he’s gone. Gemma frowns after him and then grabs my wrist like she did at Hemingford Hall. Of course I can’t help but go willingly. This weird magnetic hold she has on me is alarming. It makes me want to run the other way, but I can’t.
“One of your followers?” Aubrey, the bitchy blonde, asks. “She’s famous, but you already knew that.”
“Don’t be a brat,” Gemma says, shooting her friend an exasperated look. “Two’s my partner in school.”
Aubrey softens and guilt twists her features. “Sorry. I’m just in a really bad mood. My baby, Rue, kept me up all night. Spencer said he’d bring me garlic knots from that pizza place I love so much, but he’s late. Not only am I cranky from lack of sleep, but I’m hangry and about ready to start eating innocent victims if they look at me wrong.”
Gemma stands beside me, putting an arm around my waist. “Don’t eat my friend. We’re going to have the best project and I need him.”
She needs me.
My heart hammers in my chest.
Gemma releases me and I instantly dislike the feeling. She racks up some balls and then grabs a cue stick. I discreetly check out her ass in her skintight dark denim jeans as she bends over to take the first shot. Aubrey catches me staring and shakes her head, rolling her eyes.
I continue to watch Gemma land ball after ball in whatever pocket she’s aiming for. I’ve played pool some with Dax, but I’m not a goddamn shark like she is. Finally, she misses, and from what I can tell, on purpose, and hands me the stick.
“Your turn.”
I take it from her, noticing a tingling sensation where our fingers touch. Gemma watches me, grinning happily as I scratch the ball on my turn.
“Oh,” Gemma cries out, clapping, “this is too good. Look, Two, I think I may be better at something than you!”
Her words are said in jest, but the usual insecurities creep back in. Golden versus second best. Story of my fucking life.
I want to abandon the game and her, but my feet remain rooted to the floor. Like a fly caught in her web, I watch helplessly as she takes more flawless shots. Again, she purposely misses before handing the stick to me.
“My brother is really good,” Gemma explains as I contemplate my shot. “I really do have the upper hand here, but that’s not your fault.”
“Hmph.”
The cue ball cracks into one of my stripes, barely landing in the corner pocket. Gemma walks over to where I plan to shoot my next ball, standing there with her hands on her hips. I can’t help but dart my gaze up her front. A sliver of her stomach shows beneath her black sweater and a glimmer of a bellybutton ring catches the light.
Fuck, how I’d love to see it up close.
With that thought and my dick chubbing, I miss the cue ball completely, the end of the stick scraping across the green felt. Gemma and Aubrey both crack up laughing. Heat floods my cheeks as I attempt to shake away the embarrassment.
“Cheater,” I grunt out, waving at Gemma to move. “That should earn me extra moves.”
Thankfully, she moves out of the way and I retake the shot. I miss, naturally, and then Gemma cleans up the rest of the table with flawless shots. It’s nearly impossible not to look at her. Hell, me and every other man with a working dick in here can’t keep our eyes off her.
“Another game?” Gemma asks, smirking.
“Nah, losing is boring. Not interested.”
Before I lose my will to walk away, I turn on my heel and stalk away from her to go find Dax. That was an asshole move, but I’m feeling way too out of my element here.
When I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder, I find Gemma in the same spot, staring after me, a pouty frown on her lips.
I ruined her good time.
Why the hell do I feel so damn guilty about it?