Moments later, he asked, “Tegan, do you still prefer all things red?”
Both my mom and I choked on our desserts, my mom shooting death rays in Gem’s direction.
***
“You never told me your favorite color was red?” Gemma buckled her seat belt.
“I don’t remember the phase Dad mentioned.” I backed out of the driveway. “Want to see one of my favorite hangout spots?”
It was well past ten, but Gemma cheerily responded, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
A few streets from my childhood home was a park. On the left-hand side of the small parking lot were four tennis courts and a pool. On the right were massive rocks I’d spent many hours exploring as a child and during high school. This was where I’d come with neighborhood friends to drink, smoke, and other illicit things I didn’t want any grown-up to know about.
“Grab the flashlight from the glove box, please.” I reached into the back seat for my hoodie. Gemma had already slipped a sweater on. Summer evenings in Colorado offered a brief respite from triple-degree temps. We both got out of the car. I took the light from Gem’s hands and said, “Follow me if you dare.”
We had to squeeze into a narrow crevice between two large red boulders about twenty feet high. A few steps brought us to the base of another slanted rock that was at about a thirty-degree angle, making it easy to climb to the top, which was easily forty feet above the ground. On all sides, except for one, stood even taller rocks, making this the perfect spot to hang out of sight from parental units.
The sky was clear, and countless stars twinkled overhead in the ink black backdrop. I spied the big dipper and sighed. “I’ve missed this.”
Gemma gazed upward. “It’s so quiet here,” she whispered as if afraid she’d shatter the moment. “These rocks are amazing.”
“Have you ever seen the U2 video ‘New Year’s Day’ filmed at Red Rocks?”
She snapped her fingers. “That’s why they seem so familiar. Like I’ve been here. Is it far from here?”
“Not really. That’s where I had my high school graduation.”
“You graduated at Red Rocks?”
I shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal to cross the stage where many famous singers had performed.
“Why haven’t you told me this before?”
I contemplated the stars above. “I think sometimes people take the things around them for granted. Like you—”
Her laughter cut me off. “You take me for granted?”
“No. I mean, yes. Well, I did. For months not realizing my feelings for you.” I let out a huff of air. “I’m not explaining it well. I just…” I sat, motioning for her to sit between my legs so I could wrap my arms around her. “I don’t want to turn out like my parents. I have no idea what they’re doing. I can’t even say if I know they love each other. It wasn’t like they were constantly proclaiming their love or even acted like it. When Dad asked for a divorce, I was shocked, of course, but not entirely…”
“Surprised,” Gemma said, supplying the word for me.
“Right.” We sat together on top of the rock in silence. I rubbed my cheek against hers. “I’m glad you’re here to share this spot with me, even with all the weirdness. What do you think is going on with my parents? Are they getting divorced? Back together?”
Gemma, always the thinker, didn’t respond right away. “I don’t think they know. It’d be odd to live together for so long, raise two children, and then split up, even if they weren’t lovey-dovey. They’re used to each other. And being alone—that takes time getting used to, I would think.”
“Does that mean you think they will split up eventually?”
“Would it be so bad if they did?”
I’d always appreciated her forthrightness, even when I didn’t know how to process the information. I shrugged. “Hard to say. Guess I’ll wait along with everyone else to see what happens. Hey, at least I’m getting some cooking classes out of the deal.” I hadn’t mentioned the possible Barcelona trip yet, out of fear uttering it aloud would ruin the possibility.
“There is that. And some bonding time with your dad. You always said he was quiet and didn’t pay a lot of attention to the family. Maybe he didn’t think he could or that it wasn’t necessary given your mom stayed at home.” She snuggled closer to my chest. “I think being a parent has to be the most difficult job on the planet.”
I had never contemplated half of the stuff that left her mouth. She was making sense, though. “Thanks for coming to dinner tonight, even with all the uncertainty.”
“Thanks for the invite.” She was about to say something else but shook her head and settled into my arms. “This is the perfect way to end the evening.”
I agreed. No words. No thoughts. Nothing could compete with holding my redhead in my arms under the magnificent night sky, as if the universe accepted our love.
Chapter Four
Our honeymoon stage ended Saturday afternoon when Bernie and Jenny were in the apartment the same time as us. For the past week, I’d only seen our roomies in passing.
Gemma, more than likely in tune with my angst, pulled me into our bedroom for a respite from the chatter and Bernie’s take-charge attitude while Jenny was making a sandwich—no one needed to be instructed how to make peanut butter and jelly. Granted, Jenny was slightly buzzed, but still.
“On the bed,” Gemma instructed.
“They’ll hear us.”
She laughed. “I’m not talking about that. You need a massage. I can hear your muscles tightening to the point of breaking.”
I heaved my shoulders up, regretting it. Following her order, I lay on the bed. Gemma flipped on the radio, settling on an oldies station, probably hoping the Beach Boys would ease me into a coma.
Gem straddled me, lifting my shirt high enough for her to knead the knots in my lower back. “Did you and Glen ever share a room?”
“Ew! No.”
“I figured. How’d you survive living with me?” She focused on my lower right side, digging in with her fingers.
I took a deep breath and fisted the comforter before speaking. “It never felt weird with you. Like we were meant to be roommates from day one.”
“And then some.”
I hitched my hip, jostling her. “A pleasant and very welcome surprise. I keep telling myself two and a half months until it’s just the two of us again in our own apartment. Less than ninety days.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I peered over my shoulder to see if she was mocking me. She was. “I’m being dramatic, aren’t I?”
“Not at all.” She blew me a kiss.
“Zip it, zippy.”
“Or what?” There was a trace of curiosity in her voice. Or was she turned on?
“Or I’ll show you where to put your mouth.”
“But they’ll hear us.” She mimicked my concern from earlier.
“It does help that our rooms are separated by the front room. I haven’t heard their nightly activities once. Besides, we better learn to be quiet, because I, for one, don’t want to forgo sex for the next ninety days.”
“Less than ninety.”
I rolled over under her and guided her mouth to mine. “No talking.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we did talk? To throw them”—she jerked her head to the door—“off the scent.”
“Change the radio station and turn it up. Hard rock or something.”
“Because that wouldn’t be a neon sign over our door that screamed we’re having sex.”
“You’re sexy when arguing. Maybe you should become a lawyer, not a stuffy economist.” I peeled her T-shirt off.
“Hey, economists are sexy.”
“Prove it.”
“I haven’t yet?”
“Not in the past twenty-four hours and my theater shift starts at six, so time’s a ticking.”
Since Gemma’s return, it had seemed like one of us
was always in a dash to get to work, the hospital, movie theater, gym, cooking class, or going for a run—something. Adulthood was shaping up to be harder than I thought it would be.
Gemma nibbled on my earlobe, pulling me out of my head and into the moment. “It’s more enjoyable when you participate,” she whispered in my ear.
I flipped Gem on her back, stripped her Umbros off, and ran my hands up and down her smooth skin. “Like this?”
“Yes, exactly.”
I started one of my favorite games, connecting Gemma’s freckles with my tongue. At times, I attempted to make shapes with my mouth. Today, I preferred following wherever they led me, ending up at her bra. “Off,” I demanded.
“It’s kinda sexy when you bark at me.” She unhooked the front of her white bra and slipped the straps slowly over one shoulder and then the next.
“These are sexy.” I cupped her breasts with both hands.
“These are sexier.” She freed my tits, tweaking my nipple with her fingers.
Her hips moved rhythmically under me. I tossed my head back, allowing her to take me for a ride. Both of her hands gripped my sides, steadying me as she increased the rocking motion, her pelvis hoisting up and down.
My breathing quickened.
Her hands roamed freely over my skin, not staying long. She freed me from my remaining clothes.
Gemma was the first person who had made me feel sexual and sensual. As if the chase for the Big O wasn’t the actual goal, but an unintended consequence, a fantastic one, of course. Her touching, kissing, stroking, biting, squeezing, and caressing were meant to say, “I love you—all of you.”
Levering upward into my arms, her hands strolled down my back, all the while kissing me tenderly at first, slowly igniting the flame. I deepened the kiss, unable to resist the urge to consume her craving.
We remained that way for several blissful moments, kissing for the sake of kissing. Her soft lips. The feel of her tongue. Her taste. A moan escaped from me as she pulled me further into her eclipse.
Gemma entered me with one hand. Her other held my mouth to hers. The kissing transitioned from tender to all out frantic desire. She moved in and out below, quickening the pace and altering the experience. Still full of love but also a raw need that was difficult to explain and one only expressed by Gemma.
I bit her lower lip, on the brink. She smothered my face into the crook of her neck. Not able to release the passion vocally, I bit her shoulder. This spurred her to hammer inside me with a force that caused me to explode. My body quivered in her arms. Gem cradled me close, not wanting to let go, and I reciprocated as if my very soul would be destroyed if we broke apart.
“I don’t remember the moment I fell in love with you,” she whispered in my ear, “but I know I’ll never stop.”
I squeezed her. “I wouldn’t survive if you did.”
She eased me onto the bed in her arms. “Let’s take a nap before you have to go to work.”
***
Someone rapped on the bedroom door. “Tegan!”
I lifted my groggy head and shouted, “What?”
“You have a visitor,” Jenny yelled back.
Gemma and I exchanged a quizzical look. We both hurried into T-shirts and shorts. Summertime had several perks, one being not taking forever to get dressed after nookie.
In the front room, talking to Bernie, was my mom in her Jane Fonda teaching outfit. “What the…?” Flew out of my mouth.
“I thought I’d stop by for a private lesson.” She waved ta-da!
“Why would I want to do aerobics?” The words slipped out.
Her face fell.
Gemma pinched my back.
“It’s never too early to start healthy habits. When I was your age, I didn’t have to exercise, but now…” She wiped a frown off her face. “It’s best to start before you have to.”
Bernie clapped her hands together. “I’m game.”
Jenny eyed her girlfriend to determine if Bernie was being real or not. The first time my mom met Bernie she hadn’t been all that subtle about her disappointment discovering Jenny was friends with a black woman wearing a Pussy Pride T-shirt. Bernie, though, didn’t show any trace of the memory.
Jenny hefted a shoulder. “Why not? How many at school have private instructors?”
“I have to be at work in two hours,” I protested.
“The perfect time, then. It’ll give you energy.” She surveyed the room. “We’ll need more space if there are five of us. And two more steps.”
Bernie snapped her fingers. “There’s a room off the community gym that no one uses, and there are steps we can borrow.” Her smile proved she was pleased to come up with the ideal solution.
Maybe this was Mom’s way of connecting with me, like Dad and me taking cooking classes. Or maybe this was Mom’s way of telling me I was teetering on the precipice of getting fat because I was taking cooking classes. Squelching the negative thought, I said, “Okay. Thirty minutes and then I need to shower.”
***
“Tegan! Move your hips. How can a daughter of mine not know how to move her hips?” Mom demonstrated, much to my horror.
Jenny and Bernie shared an I can’t believe I heard that smile, and Gemma pretended not to notice.
“Look at Bernie. She’s a natural.” Mom flashed an encouraging smile.
Did she not realize pointing out the only black person had moves was racist?
Bernie kicked her moves into a higher gear. Of course, she would. I pictured her kissing her first-grade teacher’s ass and never stopping.
The music ended, and Bernie collapsed on the padded floor. “That was fun!” Sweat glistened on her upper lip.
“By fun, do you mean painful?” Jenny bent over, holding her sides and breathing heavily.
Mom had barely broken a sweat. “You girls are wasting your youth. This was a beginner’s class I teach seniors.”
It was difficult to take her seriously in her leopard outfit and thick headband.
Besides my mother, the only one not suffering was Gemma.
“Clearly softball isn’t keeping me in shape. When’s the next class, Mrs. Ferber?” Jenny’s face was sincere.
“I can come by Monday night, if that works.”
Everyone nodded, including me.
Mom gave me a hug. “You better shower. You don’t want to be late for work. See you girls on Monday. Keep the steps I brought, including mine. I’ll bring two more next time.”
She grabbed her gear and bailed. Another new thing about her—knowing when to make an exit.
Bernie dropped a step to the side of the apartment front door, gripping her side. “I have a feeling muscles I never knew existed are going to make their presence known tomorrow. Your mom’s a trip. Shall we hit the hot tub, Jenny?”
They closed their bedroom door to change into their swimsuits.
“Why don’t you go with them, Gem? No reason for you to miss out because I have to work.”
“And let you go to work without properly washing your backside? Never.”
Chapter Five
Several weeks later, I left work on Saturday night, or rather early Sunday morning. Pulling into the apartment parking lot, I spied Bernie’s car five spots from mine. The windows were completely fogged. Now why in the world were Jenny and Bernie making out in the car? A bed was way more comfortable, not to mention private. Or did they crave the excitement of possibly getting caught?
If my bed wasn’t calling my name, I would have pounded on the window and run away. Simply to fuck with them.
Inside the apartment, the front room light was on.
Gemma was waiting up for me, even though she had plans to go hiking bright and early with a work friend.
The words “Dude, don’t pull that one” drifted through the open window.
Both Jenny and Gemma sat on the floor around the coffee table, engaged in a game of Jenga. Five beer cans littered the floor.<
br />
I blinked.
If Jenny was here, who was steaming up the windows with Bernie?
“Hey.” I set my purse on the floor next to the beanbag and collapsed into the vinyl.
“Rough night?” Gemma asked.
“Tom Cruise’s latest, The Firm, is out. The crowds have been insane. Where’s Bernie?” I asked as breezily as possible.
“Dinner with her parents.” Jenny teased a wooden brick from the center of the tower.
“Why didn’t you go?” I sipped the beer Gemma had placed in my hand seconds earlier.
“Wasn’t invited.” Jenny’s face didn’t betray any hurt feelings. “Parents are overrated, anyway.”
I snorted my assent. “Although, Gemma’s mom makes the best cinnamon rolls.”
Jenny’s head snapped up, and she raised her beer. “I hereby declare Gemma’s mom the best mom in the world.”
I raised my can. “Hear, hear.”
After deftly removing a Jenga piece, Gemma took a sip from her Coke can.
A key rattled in the lock, and Bernie appeared, her hair and top slightly askew and lip gloss smeared.
“Just in time.” Jenny shook her empty beer can. “I need another.”
Bernie laughed. “Get your own beer. I’m going to hop in the shower.”
Was she washing off perfume or cologne? My brain started to conjure up suspects. Old flame? Coworker? Her summer internship in the governor’s office, which her politician father had scored for Bernie, had her rubbing elbows with powerful individuals.
Jenny staggered to the kitchen. “What’s the point of living together if you won’t take care of me?” Her face clearly showed she was kidding.
Bernie flipped her the bird.
Jenny waggled her brows.
I wanted to throw up.
The Jenga tower collapsed all on its own.
“I think that means it’s time for me to go to bed.” Gemma stood and yawned.
“Take me with you.” I held my arms up, and she eased me to my feet.
“You see. Gemma takes care of Tegan.”
Bernie, hand on hip, retorted, “Tegan works her ass off with her internship and job. What do you do besides a part-time landscape job and softball training?” Her eyes swept through the room, noting all the beer cans, or as my father liked to say, “dead soldiers.”
Girl Love Happens Boxed Set: Books 0-2 Page 35
