Chapter 12 #2
Caitlin realized then what Troy was up to. Alex beamed as he looked up at Gemma, patting the spot next to him. Caitlin went rigid, the feeling of pins and needles creeping up her body. The boys had clearly discussed this plan in advance.
Gemma and Alex? The thought made her feel ill.
“Of course, the guy with the bad aim,” Gemma retorted, the other guys laughing at the dig.
Alex chuckled along, and Caitlin saw the look in his eyes. He obviously liked that Gemma had teased him.
Panic flared up inside of Caitlin as she watched Gemma fall right into the boys’ trap and take a seat on the cushion next to Alex.
Without thinking, Caitlin flung herself into the spot beside Gemma right as Troy flopped down next to her, sandwiching Caitlin between her boyfriend and her… friend. Maybe inviting Gemma had been a mistake.
Troy dimmed the lights, the living room now lit only by the glow of the Christmas tree and the TV screen as he pressed play on the DVD. The opening credits of American Pie began to roll, Caitlin becoming suddenly aware of how close Gemma was to her.
They weren’t even halfway through the film when Caitlin’s eyes had wandered away from the screen for the hundredth time.
Her skin prickled with electricity every time Gemma readjusted, brushing her arm slightly.
That’s when she noticed Alex’s hand creeping closer to Gemma’s thigh.
Feeling her chest tighten, she watched with increasing horror as Alex’s hand connected with Gemma’s jeans.
Caitlin turned back toward the movie, heart racing, as laughter filled the room—Jim’s dad had just caught him in a compromising position with his mother’s baked pie. Caitlin tried to refocus on the scene, to slow her breathing and push down the rising panic in her chest, but it was useless.
In her periphery, Alex’s hand crept further up Gemma’s leg, and Caitlin’s stomach lurched.
Heat and nausea blurred her vision until she could no longer see the TV at all.
Her pulse hammered in her ears, drowning out Oz and Finch’s dialogue.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Acting on pure instinct, something utterly foreign to her, Caitlin seized Gemma’s wrist and yanked her to her feet alongside her.
“I’m going to show Gemma where the bathroom is,” she whispered to Troy.
Caitlin guided Gemma out of the room and away from Alex’s wandering touch, pulling her by the hand down the navy-blue-and-white wallpapered hallway until they were safely in the bathroom.
“What was that all about?” Gemma giggled.
Caitlin locked the door and turned to face Gemma, trying to compose herself.
“I thought you needed to be saved.”
“Saved from what exactly?” Gemma questioned, confused, and frankly, Caitlin wasn’t entirely sure.
“Alex!” Caitlin hesitated, wondering if she had misread the situation. Had Gemma actually liked Alex’s touch? “I saw that he had his hand on you.”
“Oh. Thanks for looking out, but you really don’t need to worry,” Gemma brushed it off.
Dread filled Caitlin, and she couldn’t stop the next thoughts from tumbling out of her mouth. “Wait, why? Do you like Alex? I mean, I obviously don’t care if you do, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable.” She was rambling now.
An eternity passed as Caitlin waited for Gemma’s response, holding her breath.
“No.”
That’s it? That was all Gemma had to say?
Caitlin searched her eyes, confused and desperate to understand what Gemma wasn’t voicing.
“I appreciate you looking out for me, though.” Gemma seemed way more relaxed than Caitlin felt.
“So… do you like Alex?” Caitlin needed to stop talking. It was none of her business, but she had to know.
“No.” Gemma’s cheeks warmed pink.
Another one-word answer, driving Caitlin mad.
“Oh, okay.”
Drop it already, Caitlin.
“I like someone else, to be honest,” Gemma softly spoke into the space between them.
Gemma’s words hit like a vacuum, sucking the oxygen from the room. Caitlin struggled to fill her lungs.
“Oh, that’s… cool,” Caitlin said, dizzy, feeling the songbirds and floral design on the walls start to move around her. “Well, if you wanna switch seats, I’ll cover for you.”
Caitlin turned and reached for the doorknob, needing to escape the confined space. As she twisted the handle, Caitlin felt a tickle of whispered breath in her ear.
“I don’t want to move seats. The person I like is sitting next to me.” Gemma murmured, almost too quiet to hear.
A shiver traveled down Caitlin’s spine, goosebumps flaring out across her skin in its wake. A sudden weakness buckled her knees. Gemma’s mouth, inches from her neck, her hushed confession hanging in the air. Caitlin was rattled. Gemma was talking about her, right? Or was she?
Her voice abandoned her. Pretending that she hadn’t heard Gemma, Caitlin flung open the door and pushed her way into the hallway. She returned to the living room, Gemma close behind.
Well, that had not been part of Caitlin’s plan for tonight. She had just wanted to integrate Gemma into her group so that they could hang out more, but now her head was spinning.
Everything about Gemma seemed to ignite something in Caitlin’s body.
Every text, every note made fire burn within her chest. Every brush of skin, every locked gaze coursed a thrill through her veins.
Physical reactions that she had never felt with Troy, growing more intense with every second she was near Gemma.
And now, following Gemma’s soft admission, terror gripped Caitlin like a vice.
What did it all mean? What was she supposed to do?
Returning to their previous positions on the sofa, Caitlin’s nerves hummed on high alert. Gemma sat closer now than before, her words looping through Caitlin’s head. She remained frozen, pretending to focus on the remainder of the movie.
In one swift move, Gemma slid a blanket from the back of the couch and laid it across Caitlin’s lap and her own, before quietly asking, “Are you cold?”
Beads of sweat were welling on Caitlin’s forehead, overheated from the presence of the girl next to her. “Yes.”
Caitlin’s stomach flipped as she felt Gemma move closer, their thighs now pressed together beneath the heavy quilt. Heat surged through her, and she couldn’t tell if it was radiating from Gemma’s skin or if her own body had gone past its boiling point.
Troy shifted, draping his arm across Caitlin’s shoulders, and she jerked. Troy. Her boyfriend. She had briefly forgotten that he was there. The realization flushed her with shame.
Caitlin had spent months trying to untangle her feelings, but she feared she now understood them with a paralyzing clarity. She was standing at a crossroads with no map, no compass—just the terrifying certainty that either direction would change everything.