Girl Love Happens Boxed Set: Books 0-2

by T. B. Markinson

  White papers poked out of what Gem liked to call my “mom purse,” and I stopped with my spoon midair, cold milk dripping onto my bare thigh. I’d completely forgotten about photocopying the pages from Bernie’s diary and leaving them out in the open, sorta.

  “Thank God, Gem was in a rush this morning.” I set my bowl on the table, snatching the papers. “Okay, Bernie. What are you hiding?”

  My hand holding the papers dropped to my lap.

  Was talking to myself another sign of old age? That was something my mother did, even though she denied it.

  Shoving this thought out of my mind, I settled into the couch with my legs under me to read.

  My eyes devoured Bernie’s private thoughts. It didn’t take long for me to find her confession about cheating on Jenny. “I knew it!” I wiggled the papers in an accusing way.

  But…

  My legs dropped over the side of the couch, and I bolted upright. “Jenny cheated on her first?”

  I reread the paragraph: I hate myself for what I did. And I hate myself all the more for the reason why I did it. But, when I walked in on Jenny two weeks ago in the middle of the afternoon in bed with some chick she worked out with, I was floored. Pissed. Sad. And, when M came onto me, I pushed her away at first. But then, I convinced myself why not? If Jenny can cheat, so can I. I didn’t buy Jenny’s excuse that she was so blitzed she didn’t know what she was doing. And I freely admit I was neither drunk nor under any other influence. Unless you count a jealous rage.

  I laid the papers on the cushion, covering my eyes. “I had no idea.”

  Why would Jenny cheat?

  Were any relationships easy? Gem had flipped out when I realized I was bi. Josh had to marry Darla. Erik and April. My mind flittered to Mom and Dad, which was in a category all to itself. Even Michelle and Seb couldn’t make it.

  Wait?

  M?

  The only M in female form we’d hung out with during the summer was Michelle. Jenny’s best friend since high school.

  Gemma’s words about not jumping to conclusions played in my head.

  But, it was hard not to.

  Why was Jenny so distraught when she thought Bernie was having an affair if she was the first to step out? And, she never let anything slip.

  I massaged my eyes with the heels of my hands. How did I not see this?

  I checked the date. Yes, we’d been living together at the time. And I never suspected Jenny of such a betrayal. Rubbing my eyes again, I chastised myself for thinking the absolute worse of Bernie and not seeing Jenny for who she was.

  I shouldn’t read any more.

  I stared at the photocopies, feeling Bernie’s rage, guilt, and sadness.

  No, I shouldn’t read another word.

  It wasn’t right.

  An invasion of her privacy and I’d already invaded it more than I ever should have.

  Tegan, you absolutely cannot read another word.

  My eyes wouldn’t leave the scanned handwriting, printed so neatly.

  “Argh!” I swept the pages up again and continued.

  I started with the pages from days prior to the cheating. It was clear Bernie loved Jenny, but I didn’t get the impression she loved Jenny the way I adored, honored, and trusted Gem. It was like she understood Jenny was a great person and she wanted to be madly in love, but something was missing.

  What?

  I arrived at the section starring me.

  I never should have done it, but I couldn’t handle Jenny finding out, even though I’d slept with M with every intention of getting caught. That’s why I fucked her in our parking lot. Afterward, though, I felt dirty.

  Then Tegan’s not so subtle hints made it clear she knew more than I wanted. I had to silence her. But my method… It was all wrong. And I can only explain it this way. From the day I met her, I wanted her.

  I slammed the papers down in my lap. “What?”

  She wanted me. All this time. Back when Gemma thought I had the hots for Erik, it was Bernie who told her to give me space. Had she been trying to break us up?

  I know I shouldn’t. And after getting to know Gemma, I knew my feelings were useless. Gemma adores Tegan and vice versa. But when Tegan stood there, I couldn’t stop myself. I had to kiss her. When she didn’t react, I knew I’d made yet another horrible mistake. Jesus, what’s wrong with me?

  Good question.

  But I wasn’t angry. Not completely. Who knows what I would have done in her shoes?

  Was she in love with me?

  No.

  Not possible.

  Bernie was attracted to me. Not in love.

  She did love getting into my business. I’d assumed she was like that with everyone, but maybe it was only with me. I never thought to pay attention to how she acted around others.

  And she’d recommended racy books like Exit to Eden and the Sleeping Beauty trilogy by A.N. Roquelaure, erotic BDSM novels. Did Bernie want to dominate me? Was this Bernie’s way to prep me to become her sex slave? If she thought I’d slip into the rubber suit, she was sorely mistaken.

  What should I do with all this information? I tongued the gap in my front teeth.

  Confess to Gemma? Show her these pages that prove my innocence? Would that destroy Gem’s friendship with Bernie and Jenny? Gemma hadn’t harped on it, but I knew she abhorred the changes in Jenny. Gem didn’t hate drinking or drugs. But out of control abuse of both? Gemma didn’t like those who couldn’t control themselves. I didn’t either, when put that way.

  Did I still want to be friends with Jenny?

  Had she been this bad with April?

  I covered my face. Was April one of Jenny’s victims?

  I burst into laughter. April was many things but never a victim.

  I stopped cold. I had thought Bernie was a cold-hearted conniving bitch. Was she acting like a cunt out of embarrassment? Not only for possibly reading her innermost thoughts but for not returning her feelings in the first place? Was Bernie like the rest of us, wanting, or needing, to be loved?

  Now I felt sorry for her.

  ***

  Gemma returned to the apartment around four. “What’s this?” She stepped into the disaster zone, aka the kitchen.

  “I’m making you dinner.”

  Gemma eyed the stainless-steel pasta maker, a belated housewarming gift from my father, and the dusting of flour over most objects and on the floor of the kitchen. Her eyes stilled on the discarded failed attempts of fettuccine strips. “I see. Should I order pizza?” She pulled her shoulder back before I could get flour on her. “Kidding. You know I love your cooking.” She pushed up the sleeves of her lightweight sweater, indication fall had officially arrived. “How can I help?”

  “I messed up the first batch, and I need more ingredients. This was much easier in class with the instructor talking Dad and me through each step.” I wiped my hands on the front of my apron.

  “All great athletes will give you the same advice. Practice makes perfect. Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it.”

  I jotted down a short list on the notepad hanging on the front of the fridge.

  Gemma scanned it. “Ben and Jerry’s? I think I’m seeing the flaw in your recipe.”

  I scrunched my brow. “Hey, wise guy, do you want a Susie Homemaker or not?”

  “I prefer Tegan Homemaker.”

  “Then keep your sarcasm to a minimum. Get going.” I swatted her ass, leaving a flour handprint.

  She brushed it off on her way out of the kitchen.

  ***

  Gemma set the table with a white cloth, a small candle, and wineglasses filled with Dr. Pepper, according to the plastic bottle in a bowl of ice.

  She shrugged when I spied her beverage selection. “I didn’t have the courage to try the fake ID Jenny gave me for a bottle of wine.”

  Remembering the things I’d read about Jenny, I shivered. “Burn it. This is perfect.”

  “Ca
n you burn a driver’s license, or is that illegal? Like opening your neighbor’s mail?”

  I set the bowl of fettuccine with homemade spaghetti sauce in the middle of the table, with tongs next to it. “Good question. Maybe just toss it in a trash can on campus. It’s not yours and doesn’t have your name.” I patted her cheek. “I think the garlic bread is done.”

  She motioned for me to take a seat. “I think I can manage getting bread out of the oven.”

  “Don’t burn yourself.” The table was smooshed into the corner of the front room, denying me a glimpse of Gem bending over. “I think we need to institute naked romantic dinners every Monday.”

  “Won’t you get cold?” She scooted the bread off the rack onto a small plate on the table.

  “Then you’ll have to warm me up.”

  She pulled off both red and white checkered oven mitts, setting them on the coffee table. “Ah, now I’m seeing the whole plan. Beginning to end.”

  “It’s the beginning, all right. But it’ll never end.”

  Gemma took her seat opposite me at the two-seater table, flapping her red linen napkin to spread it over her lap. She raised her Dr. Pepper. “Cheers to that and to the chef.”

  We clinked glasses.

  Gemma served a generous portion of my version of fettuccine pasta and homemade spaghetti sauce, handing the plate to me. Then she fixed herself one with a larger helping. “Aren’t you going to try it?” She twirled her fork, prepping a dainty bite.

  “After you.”

  “Scared?”

  I placed my finger a quarter of an inch from my thumb.

  Gemma wafted the steam from her plate. “It smells wonderful.”

  “Don’t forget the freshly grated parmesan.” I pointed to the bowl with the tiny serving spoon I salvaged from the back of Mom’s pantry.

  Gem sprinkled some over mine and then hers.

  “Is everyone in Keller this polite?”

  “Most of us.”

  “Maybe I could get used to living in a small town.” I eyed her as she placed the first bite in her mouth, her eyes registering surprise. “Is that good or bad?”

  She nodded vigorously, covering her mouth to say, “Good,” around bites of food still in her mouth. She swallowed. “Very good.” Gemma twirled more noodles.

  “You’re just saying that.” I sampled a bite, my head snapping up to meet her eyes. “It is good.”

  “We can add another restaurant to my list of places I no longer need.”

  I arched my brows, too busy eating.

  “Olive Garden. You may ruin me for all restaurants.”

  I could feel the blush reach my hairline.

  “It’s true. You’re quite the cook. Maybe you should cook Thanksgiving dinner, not your dad and my mom.”

  “Don’t talk crazy. I’ll help, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that pressure. Thanksgiving dinner.” I tsked.

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

  I thought of the diary pages, crammed under the mattress in the newly anointed study room, but pooh-poohed the idea of showing Gemma right at this moment.

  “What’d you do today?” she asked.

  I nearly choked and had to laugh over the image of Gem yanking noodles out of my nose. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Sitting here with a tablecloth, eating, and discussing our days?”

  She smiled. “Too grown-up for you?”

  “That’s the thing. It’s not. I like it.” I set my fork down and rested on my forearms. “To answer your question, I signed up to volunteer at the hospital in Fort Collins five hours a week.”

  “Really?”

  “Another addition to my resume.” I pantomimed ticking off something from a to-do list.

  “And you say I’m the overachiever.” Gemma bit into a piece of garlic bread, lost in thought. “You know, I saw an ad on the board in the student center for math tutors for elementary students. Two hours a week. Maybe I should do it. Add another bullet point to my resume.” She winked at me. “Besides, I still haven’t heard from the Gap yet. Volunteering may the only way to pad my street cred. What do you think?”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “Not about the job. Becoming a tutor.”

  “What’d you think when you first saw it?”

  “That it sounded fun.”

  “Then do it. You’d make a great teacher and role model, I might add.”

  “Do you think they’ll take me?”

  I blinked. “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “You know, because I’m gay and I’ll be working with kids.”

  “Oh, Gem. The two things have nothing to do with each other. Besides, don’t offer the information.”

  She laughed. “I shouldn’t put down getting my ass licked by my smoking hot girlfriend as one of my hobbies?”

  “Nor should you include you like fisting said smoking hot girlfriend.”

  Gemma bent over the table. “I did like it.”

  “I hope so, because it’s going to happen again. Not every time.” I shifted in my seat.

  Worry clouded her stunning eyes. “Are you sore? Did I hurt you?”

  “Not at all. I was fucked stupendously well; that’s all.”

  She snapped her fingers. “Too bad I can’t use you as a reference as testimony about my work ethic and determination.”

  “Oh, I’m sure the secret will get out.”

  “I really hope you aren’t talking about Cuddy’s porn idea. I’m not that desperate for money. Not yet.”

  I grabbed a piece of bread and chucked it at her head.

  She caught it. “Thanks.”

  “Do you ever think about what your parents were like when they first moved in together?”

  She cocked her head to the right. “No. Do you?”

  “Yeah. Do you think Cormac takes your mom from behind?”

  All the color drained from Gem’s face.

  I had to cover my mouth so I wouldn’t spew half-chewed food in her face. “Oh my God. I wish I had a camera.”

  She blinked several times, rendered speechless.

  “Come on. They probably have. It’s fun. And I’ve seen your parents together. They have a deep bond. From my experience, that bond develops because of many things, including mind-blowing sex.”

  “Are you trying to get me to puke up your tasty dish?”

  “Nope, because I have another tasty dish in mind for later.” I exaggerated a seductive wink.

  “Then stop talking about my folks that way.” She covered her ears in case I didn’t heed her warning.

  I put my palms in the air. “Okay, okay. For now. What do you think about my parents? Is that why my dad left and why he doesn’t seem too eager to move back home, even though the evidence is strong that they’re still sleeping together?”

  “Wow, you’re overly curious about other people’s sex lives tonight. Any reason in particular?”

  I stared at her, slack-jawed.

  “What is it?” Gemma nudged her plate to the side, most of the pasta gone.

  I lowered my eyes to the tablecloth. “I… I didn’t plan on bringing it up. Not tonight.”

  “You’re as pale as a ghost. And your hand is shaking.” She slanted her head and leveled her supportive eyes on me. “You know you have to tell me now.”

  “But…” How could I tell her? “What if you hate me?”

  “Not possible,” she said with conviction.

  I ran my fingers over the grooves in my forehead. “Something happened… awhile back, and I was too scared to tell you.”

  “What?” Anger crept into her tone, but I didn’t think she was mad at me.

  “Let’s talk over there.” I pointed to the living room.

  Gemma sucked in a breath. After she took her place on the couch, she turned to me. “Did someone hurt you?”

  “No. Not really. It just took me by surprise and…
”

  “Who?”

  “B-Bernie,” I stuttered.

  Much to my relief, Gemma didn’t discount it at face value. “Tell me from the beginning.”

  I did.

  Gemma stared straight ahead.

  In a flash, she bolted off the couch and out the front door.

  ***

  “That went well,” I said to the closed door, unable to muster the heart to chase after her. “Oh, Gemma, please don’t do this.” I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Many minutes ticked by.

  My heart rate raced and then slowed to precariously close to death, only to repeat the pattern. For what seemed like an eternity.

  When the phone rang, I didn’t bother answering. The only voice I wanted to hear wouldn’t be on the other line.

  It amazed me that Gem, who was usually so calm when it came to other people’s problems, struggled to control her green-eyed monster. Or was it fear? “This is Kate’s doing!” I rammed a fist into my other palm, grinding the knuckles. If she hadn’t left Gemma the way she did back in high school, Gem wouldn’t always be so terrified of losing me.

  And Bernie was to blame. If she hadn’t kissed me…

  “I’m not forgetting you, Jenny.” I pretended to throttle the drunk idiot. Her cheating led to Bernie’s, and I got swept into their drama, resulting in Gemma bolting from the apartment.

  Everyone’s missteps tripped Gem and me up.

  I couldn’t banish all guilt from Gem. If she trusted me, she wouldn’t jump the gun when things like this happened.

  Maybe it would be best to cut off all ties. Seal my heart from further heartache. Because, right now, I wanted to die.

  ***

  “Tegan, wake up.”

  I buried my head into the crook of my arm.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.” The person jostled my arm.

  “Gem?” I opened my eyes.

  She sat on the edge of the coffee table, peering into my face. “Hi.”

  “Hey.” I sat up, brushing some drool off my cheek. “What time is it?” I asked in a groggy voice.

  “Late.”

  “Why’d you leave?” I cradled one of the couch cushions against my chest.

  “To give Bernie a piece of my mind.”