Chapter 11 Gemma
GEMMA
Gemma sat back in her seat and looked at Rory.
“What do you mean?”
A hundred questions were roaming around her head at Rory’s statement, but she couldn’t quite pin any of them down. She was confused.
Rory’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and Gemma could feel the tension rolling off her. Whatever this was to Rory, it was deeply troubling. She took a breath to steady herself and then reached a hand over to Rory’s, gently closing her fingers over Rory’s hand.
“Relax your grip.” She deliberately tried to keep her voice low. “You’ll break your steering wheel in half if you keep this up.”
Rory sighed and loosened her grip on the steering wheel.
“I mean.” Rory’s voice was thick with emotion. “I mean that I don’t know who I am anymore. I wear suits for work, but they’re women's suits, and I hate how they highlight my curves. I hate that I have curves. On Friday, wearing an evening suit and brogues felt so much more…me.”
Her body finally relaxed back into the seat with an audible sigh.
Gemma rested her hand on Rory’s thigh. Unlike Friday, when it was a flirty move designed to inflame Rory’s senses and get her into bed, this was gentle, meant to comfort and encourage Rory to speak more. After a few minutes of silence, Gemma decided to gently probe her friend again.
“I know we haven’t spoken in ten years, but I think we’ve reconnected this weekend, and obviously our families are close.
” She paused before she rambled on too much.
She waved a hand in the air to reset her thoughts.
“What I mean is, you were my best friend when I was younger, I feel really close to you again and I’m here for you.
Whatever you need to say to me Rory, please feel free to say it.
I’m here for you. I won’t judge, but I can see you are upset, and I want to help you and be here for you. ”
As she said the words, she realised the truth of them.
That she would be here for Rory, in whatever capacity she needed.
She knew she was insanely attracted to Rory.
Her body’s reaction to her this weekend had confirmed that.
But above all, she was Rory’s friend. A friend she had been estranged from for far too long.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let another moment of drunken desire dominate their friendship.
“I don’t know myself.” Rory admitted, “I just know that I’m not happy. Darcy wanted a beautiful girlfriend, but I never saw myself as beautiful.”
Gemma opened her mouth to protest that Rory was beautiful but stopped herself, and thought about how Rory had looked over the weekend. Rory was stunningly gorgeous and very hot, especially in that tuxedo, but beautiful? She wasn’t sure that was the word to describe her.
“The closer we got to the wedding, the more uncomfortable I became,” Rory continued.
“Darcy kept pushing me to have a beautiful dress and to have my hair up and professional makeup done. I hated every moment. I kept trying to tell her I wanted to wear a suit and have my hair in a bun, but she wouldn’t listen to me.
It all came to a head when I told her I wanted to cut my hair.
She said she wasn’t going to get married to a butch dyke, that she was a lesbian because she liked women, not women who wanted to be men.
She was so angry and horrible about it.” Rory took a shaky breath.
Gemma squeezed her thigh again, belatedly realising her hand was still resting there.
“I said to her that perhaps that’s what I was.”
Gemma turned her head and saw tears pooling in Rory’s eyes.
“Why don’t we pull over and talk?”
Rory dropped a hand from the steering wheel and squeezed Gemma’s hand.
“Probably a good idea.” She smiled through her tears. “I knew you were my friend for a reason.”
Fortunately, a motorway services was not too far away, and before long Gemma was sitting next to Rory on a bench.
They both clutched iced coffees and had found a space away from the rest of the travellers who had stopped.
It was an interesting juxtaposition of situations.
The bench was on a patch of grass, partially shaded by trees with the summer sun filtering through the leaves.
It was a gorgeous place to sit, but not a hundred metres away a huge concrete and glass building bustled with people stopping off on their travels.
For a moment, Gemma took in the mix of harassed parents, smiling couples and excited children flowing in and out of the building.
She turned her attention back to Rory and shuffled close to her on the bench.
It was amazing how in the space of 24 hours they had gone from drunkenly undressing each other to ignoring each other at dinner and now, finally, having the talk that had been long overdue.
“So,” Gemma tuned out the sound of cars whizzing past on the motorway and focused on Rory, “what happened with us?”
“Do you mean yesterday or ten years ago?”
“Start with yesterday.” Gemma squeezed Rory’s hand. She wished Rory wasn’t wearing sunglasses so she could see her eyes, but realised that, like in the car, the sunglasses were a barrier to looking her in the eyes and that seemed to help Rory open up.
“I think I need to go back ten years, actually.” Rory took a sip of her coffee before taking a deep breath.
“I didn’t go to the party intending to seduce you, you know.
” She smiled at Gemma. “You were my friend, my dad’s friend's kid, someone I had looked after. I hadn’t realised how much you had grown up.
Until I left to go to uni, I hadn’t realised you were maturing and growing up.
You were my friend and nothing more. Then I went away to university, we hadn’t seen each other for months and suddenly I was back, and I realised you were a young woman and more grown up than I wanted you to be.
That party, I’d had an argument with my girlfriend and wanted to see you again.
I needed to be with my friend. Except as I saw you drinking with the others, I realised you were not a girl anymore but a beautiful woman.
” Rory paused and grinned at Gemma. “You know, you plus alcohol are a dangerous combination.”
Gemma giggled despite herself. She knew what Rory meant and had to agree.
“No,” she replied playfully, “YOU and alcohol are a bad mix.”
Rory laughed, and Gemma felt her heart clench at the sound.
“I couldn’t believe how beautiful you were.” Rory glanced up. “How beautiful you are,” she corrected. “Suddenly all those feelings of friendship spilled into the sudden desire I had for you and... well, you know what happened.”
Gemma did, she could still remember what Rory had felt like as she fucked her. How their bodies had felt together. The feel of Rory’s lips on hers.
“I think the same thing happened this weekend. I arrived with all my baggage, and there you were. Looking sexy but still my friend that I had loved for so many years.”
Gemma ducked her head and nudged Rory with her shoulder. From anyone else, that declaration of love would have her running for the hills, but she knew Rory meant it as a friend.
Rory swallowed hard before speaking again.
“Darcy was meant to be with us this weekend. Your mum probably didn’t mention that.
When I told her Darcy wasn’t coming, I think that’s when she invited you.
Anyway, I was so pissed off with Darcy that I went out and bought a suit to wear, almost to spite her in her absence.
When I put it on, I felt like me, properly me.
I hadn’t ever worn this suit, but it was immediately perfect and familiar and just”–she waved her hand around for emphasis–“right. When I saw you getting out of the taxi, I felt powerful and sexy, and I guess that plus the wine plus that bloody dress got me in trouble.”
“You didn’t hear me complaining, did you?” Gemma reached for Rory’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Also, I was there, I didn’t stop anything that was happening. As I said, I’m a big girl now and can make my own mind up.”
“And if it was going to be a one-night thing, then it would have been different but...” Rory gulped again and took another sip of her coffee.
For a moment she looked transfixed by the condensation on the plastic cup, and her long finger trailed through the moisture.
Gemma tried and failed to push away the memory of that same finger trailing through her wetness the night they had fucked.
Gemma pulled her gaze away. Now was not the time to be thinking of that.
Rory was her friend, and was hurting, and she needed to be here for her.
“I don’t know who I am. I’m changing, I’m not happy with me and I’ve just come out of a disastrous relationship. If I didn’t know you, it would be easier, but…. I think I need a friend. I need you.” She pulled her sunglasses off to look Gemma in the eyes.
Gemma could see tears welling again in Rory’s soft brown eyes, and her heart clenched again at the pain she saw there.
Gemma placed her drink on the floor and moved forward to pull Rory into a hug.
The scent that drifted up her nose reminded her of all the hugs they had shared as kids.
Suddenly, Rory’s choice of a unisex perfume as a teenager made more sense.
For a moment she nuzzled her face in the crook of Rory’s neck but resisted the urge to drop a kiss onto her warm, soft skin.
That would not help the situation right now.
Gemma pulled away, but sat with one of Rory’s hands clasped in her own. “So,” she started gently, “are you telling me you’re nonbinary, trans? I’m still your friend, however you identify.”