Chapter 5 Gemma
GEMMA
Gemma tried desperately to watch the action unfolding on the stage.
She had seen the Marriage of Figaro a few times and knew the story, which was a massive help to her now as she could think of nothing else but Rory’s confession in the garden.
She had no idea that Rory would still be attracted to her after all these years.
If Gemma was honest with herself – and in the darkness of the opera house with every other eye trained on the stage and the performers she had to be honest with herself – she knew she was still wildly attracted to Rory.
Rory in any form: tomboy at school, feminine in her pictures with her fiancée, and now the ‘hinting at androgyny but still very female’ woman who made Gemma’s blood sing.
Rory was her kryptonite and, like Superman, she was powerless against her charms.
She let her mind wander and thought about the possibilities for them.
Yes, they could fall into bed together and have another fantastic evening.
Gemma could remember enough of their lovemaking to know that Rory was the best lover she had ever had and that if they were to give in to their attraction, that it would be the best sex she’d had in a long time.
Her body was almost craving it now, as if a switch had been flicked in her brain and she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had Rory naked in her arms. But that came with complications.
If they were to have another night together, then it would have to be secret from the families.
One whiff of a relationship between them and the grandmothers and her parents would be insufferable.
That led Gemma’s thoughts to a relationship with Rory.
Could they date and be a couple? They lived in the same city, which was a bonus, but could they make it work?
Rory was just out of a long-term relationship and was possibly not looking for anything more.
Was Gemma destined to be Rory’s rebound fuck every time a woman broke her heart or was being difficult?
Gemma was also painfully aware that she was completely incapable of being with a woman and making a relationship last longer than a few weeks, and she knew she would want more than that with Rory.
These thoughts ran around Gemma’s head as she tried to refocus her attention on the opera.
It was one of her favourites, with a bit of comedy, a bit of romance, and a philandering husband getting his comeuppance.
The opera had moved to a funny piece now, and she relaxed into her chair and laughed at the action on the stage but was immediately drawn back to the person sitting to her left.
The grandmothers and mothers had settled in the front row of the box, and the fathers were sitting in the back row with her and Rory.
Rory had snagged the seat next to the wall, and Gemma had slipped next to her, drawn by some intangible magnetic force.
Gemma’s father was next to Gemma, and Peter had taken the last seat.
Gemma watched with a gentle smile on her face as her father’s head bobbed up and down as he slept.
Obviously, the combination of the wine at dinner and the warm evening was taking its toll on him.
Rory’s dad was doing better and occasionally popped his head up to watch what was going on before snoozing again.
Gemma watched her father for a bit and felt a wave of affection wash over her.
She wished she could live closer to her parents, but their constant interference and prying into her life was exhausting.
Quick trips like this were all that she could handle.
Throughout her life, they had tried to push her into what they wanted for her, and she had rebelled at every turn.
They wanted her to be a lawyer like her father, instead she chose arty subjects at school.
They wanted her to go to a traditional or “red brick” university, so she chose a new, vibrant university in a cosmopolitan city and found parties, fun, and women.
They then wanted her to settle down in their hometown with a nice boy and have children, so Gemma flaunted her lesbianism at them and set off for London with a succession of short flings and no stable girlfriend to speak of.
Rory shifted in her seat, and Gemma dragged her thoughts back to the opera.
How was it that she could be in such a crowded space and yet feel like she and Rory were the only people in the world?
The singers on stage were singing her favourite piece from the opera, the Sull’aria duet, and she willed her body to relax.
When she had been struggling to concentrate on her university finals, her grandmother had sent her a CD of opera arias to work to, and this was the song that had stood out for her.
It was one of the few classical songs that she could listen to over and over.
She let the music wash over her as the voices combined and caressed her ears.
Glancing around, she saw that every eye in the opera house was trained on the stage and the action unfolding as the countess and her maid plotted to thwart their respective husbands in their schemes.
She felt an overwhelming desire to hold Rory’s hand and share this moment with her.
She glanced at her friend’s profile in the dark and was amused to find at least one pair of eyes that weren’t fixed on the stage.
The heat in Rory’s brown eyes was unmistakable, and Gemma felt more confident in sliding her hand into Rory’s.
Just at that moment, the singers on the stage combined their voices into one glorious sound, the soprano voices mimicking Gemma’s and Rory’s hands as the sounds swirled and soared throughout the theatre.
Gemma felt Rory’s thumb gently rub over her knuckles before settling.
They sat for the rest of the act clasping each other’s hands.
Gemma had thought that it might be even more distracting than having Rory just sat next to her, but to the contrary, the feeling of Rory holding her hand centred and grounded her.
She realised then that she would do anything to keep her friend in her life and that she couldn’t let Rory disappear again.
With a sinking heart, she realised that would probably mean that they would have to fight their baser feelings and the machinations of their families.
Having Rory as a friend again was something she needed with every fibre of her being, and she had no intention of throwing away her best friend again for another short-lived romance or drunken night together.
The lights brightened in the auditorium to indicate a brief interval before the last act of the opera.
Backstage, the scenery and costumes were being changed but, as it was only a relatively quick change, the audience stayed in their seats.
Rory gently removed her hand from Gemma’s, and Gemma felt its loss almost immediately.
She buried her disappointment at the loss of its warmth behind the relief that none of the family had seen them holding hands.
She didn’t know what it meant for Rory, but it was easily the most intimate and lovely thing that had happened to her in months, if not years.
The families chatted good-naturedly among themselves in that low, respectful manner that people did in a theatre.
Most of them took the opportunity to stand and stretch gently after an hour or so sat, whilst the fathers were trying very hard not to look like they had been asleep.
Before long, the lights dimmed, indicating that the final act was about to begin.
Gemma and Rory were the last to settle and, as they did, Gemma noticed Rory had lazily slung her right arm across the back of Gemma’s chair.
“Do you mind?” Rory whispered into Gemma’s ear. “I find it more comfortable to sit like this.”
Gemma nodded mutely, partially scared of being told off by her grandmother for talking and also partially because her body was thrumming at the thought of Rory wrapping her arm around her.
As they settled, Gemma thought back to their holidays as teenagers and how Rory would always recline on a sofa with her arms thrown across the back.
She thought back to how many times she had crawled into those arms and curled up with her friend on a sofa or sun lounger at the end of a long day by the swimming pool.
Back then, their touches and cuddles had been innocent and platonic, but now her thoughts were anything but innocent.
She watched the performers on the stage set up the action for the final reveal, where the wives would finally teach their husbands a lesson.
She knew what was going to happen, so she let her mind wander again to Rory sitting next to her.
Even though they had consumed a large quantity of wine, and she knew she was a bit fuzzy round the edges, she could feel her desires growing and her resolve to just be friends with Rory slipping away like sand trickling through her fingers.