by India Lee
“Thanks,” Gemma smiled. Now I just need Damian to react the same way, she thought as her eyes focused on Azura’s ensemble.
She was wearing a homemade blue t-shirt. Splattered on the front was an orange number and Evans written across her chest. Gemma bit the inside of her lip. She had wondered if perhaps Damian had turned her down not just because she was drunk, not just because she was embarrassing, but because he was perhaps pursuing a relationship with Azura and didn’t realize he was leading Gemma on. They may not be dating, but it didn’t mean that there wasn’t the intent. This was at least what Gemma had theorized in the past few days. She couldn’t confirm it though – not with Damian, at least. She didn’t want to ask him after what happened the last time they met.
But she did feel strangely comfortable around Azura – perhaps because Azura obviously felt strangely comfortable around her. “I have a question,” Gemma yelled over the music.
“What’s up!” Azura said, flipping her bright red hair aside and leaning her ear in.
“You and Damian?” she asked. Azura quickly snapped up, scrunching up her face. “Have you two ever… or are you guys trying to…”
“Ever what?” she yelled. “Trying what? Dating? Having sex?”
“Um, yes, those things.”
“Hell, no!” Azura laughed. “We’re friends. Just friends and always have been just friends.”
“Really?” Gemma said, pressing her lips together as she gave it some thought. Well then, I guess I was just rejected, plain and simple.
“Yeah, really. I’m like his fairy godmother,” Azura said, laying a small hand over her heart. Gemma furrowed her brows, confused by what that meant. Azura shook her head. “It’s not sexual. I mean, he and I are just friends, like I said. And I thought you knew! Why you asking?” Azura asked, smirking with a knowing glance. Gemma smiled, shrugging. “Oh shut up, girl. I know what you thinkin’. Go for it.” Gemma laughed, looking around her to see if Gavin or Zoe had heard. Instead, she spotted the two already at a distance, saying hi to some friends.
“I tried,” Gemma said.
“If you did, you didn’t try hard enough,” Azura replied. “You gotta be obvious.”
“I was obvious. I couldn’t be more obvious,” Gemma said. “And he turned me down.”
Azura flashed her an unreadable look. “Uh-uh,” she shook her head. “No fucking way.”
“Why ‘no fucking way’?” Gemma asked.
“Ugh, that boy,” Azura said, continuing to shake her head in disgust as she looked around the room. “I don’t get him. Where is he now, anyway?”
“Neither do I,” Gemma said. “But what are you referring to?” She watched as Azura crossed her arms, straining her tiny frame to look over the people around her. “Is there something I should know?”
“Maybe,” Azura said. “But I’ve been trying to learn to keep my fat mouth shut.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll let him tell you himself,” she shrugged. “But I’m not so sure you need him tellin’ you anything, right?” Azura raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.
“I…” Gemma’s mouth hung open, staring at Azura in hopes of finding some sort of clue as to what she was hinting at. She hoped they were on the same page – hoped that her cryptic tone meant there was still hope for her.
“Ah, shit,” Azura said, slumping her shoulders. “I see him. This shit again.” She walked towards the back of the house where the open French doors led to the backyard. In the trees were strings of globe lights, illuminating the greenery that surrounded the yard. Gemma followed her, only to see what Azura was cursing at.
Damian was sitting back on a lawn chair, a beer in hand. Sitting on his lap was Clara Zavala. Gemma frowned at the image. Clara ran her hand over Damian’s hair as he talked to a teammate sitting beside him. She looked quite comfortable, as if she regularly used Damian as a lounge chair. Azura took Gemma by the hand, leading her into the backyard.
“Hey, boys,” Azura said.
“Hey,” Damian and his teammate said in unison, looking up. Gemma caught Damian’s gaze for a moment before he looked back towards his teammate.
Seriously?
But as soon as he looked away, Damian’s eyes snapped back towards her. “Gemma?” he said, eyebrows raised. He stood up from his seat, causing Clara to tumble from his lap and onto the grass. Damian shook his head, bending over to help Clara up. Azura smirked, turning towards Gemma with a wink.
“Just wonderin’ where you’re keeping the good stuff,” Azura said, grabbing Damian’s beer and inspecting the label. “You know I don’t drink domestic shit.” Damian opened the cooler next to his seat as Clara brushed herself off. He grabbed two cold bottles of Duvel in one hand, snapping off the caps with the other. Damian handed the drinks to them, tossing the bottle opener back to his teammate.
“When’d you guys get here?” he asked, putting his hands in his back pockets as he rolled back on his heels. Damian kept his gaze on Azura as he spoke, though his eyes kept flickering towards Gemma. She couldn’t help but smirk herself.
“Not too long ago,” Azura shrugged. “But I’m already bored. Gem and I are gonna go look for something to do, see ya boys.” She took Gemma’s hand and led her back into the house. “Don’t look back,” she hissed at Gemma.
“Okay,” Gemma whispered, doing her best not to. She was dying to see the look on Damian’s face but she did as she was told.
In the kitchen, Azura introduced Gemma to a friend of Damian’s. Sebastian Marcos was the Yankees’ baby-faced shortstop and had met Damian at some party a couple years back. The two shared their recent reputations as “good guys who liked bad girls,” but Sebastian insisted on explaining the rumor away.
“I understand why Damian might have that reputation,” Sebastian said, putting a hand to his chest as if he were pledging his honesty. “But me? Do I look like a guy who can land women the way he does?”
“Boy, you just need to be a pro baller and those bitches don’t care about nothin’ else,” Azura scoffed. “And don’t talk about Damian like he’s just running around beddin’ crazy chicks all day. He’s got better things to do.” She raised an eyebrow at Gemma.
“So then, what are you really like?” Gemma asked. She sat on the kitchen counter facing Sebastian. She reached forward to touch his tie, laughing at the fact that he was wearing one at all. Over Sebastian’s shoulder, Azura was nodding in approval. Before they had gone into the kitchen, Azura had instructed her to get her mind off of Damian for now and flirt with the next cute boy she could find.
“That’s how you play it,” Azura had said. “If he’s going to let that thirsty bitch get all cozy with him, you gotta go get cozy with some other boys.”
So she did. Sebastian was cute enough. He was a little shorter than Damian and dressed more like a stockbroker than an athlete. But he was also surprisingly polite, despite being receptive to Gemma’s overt flirtation.
“I’m a one-woman man,” he laughed, putting his hands lightly on her thighs. “Not necessarily because I want to be, but because I only like to deal with one at a time.”
“And who’s your one woman now?” Gemma asked in a surprising purr – surprising because it came out exactly as she had intended. She looked up to see Azura distracted by another guest. Without an audience, she was feeling bolder.
“Right now, it looks likes she’s you,” Sebastian replied, leaning in and brushing his lips against her collarbones. Gemma smirked. Sebastian was all talk. She could see right through his game. The baby face and the little speech about being a one-woman man was all part of his arsenal. She felt his hands slide down to her knees, parting them slightly so he could get in closer. Wow, brazen, aren’t we?
Just as she was about to stop him, she saw Damian walking back into the house. His eyes found her instantly, his brows furrowing at the sight of her on the counter with Sebastian’s hands on her legs. Handing his beer to his nearest guest, Damian jumped cleanly over a side table to get in the ope
n kitchen.
“Let’s go dance,” Gemma said hurriedly, hopping off the counter and into Sebastian’s arms. She let him carry her away from Damian and to the floor by the massive speakers. Sebastian set her down on her feet, wasting no time, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into his body. She faced away from him, leaning into him as they swayed in unison. She was nearly his height with her four-inch stilettos and she could hear the delight in his breath as they danced. Gemma closed her eyes, breathing in Sebastian’s cologne as she leaned her head back. She felt her hips roll sensually down his body as she got into the sexy persona that Zoe and Azura had been encouraging all night.
But suddenly, she felt an arm scoop her up and away from Sebastian’s body. She opened her eyes, finding herself face to face with Damian.
“Yeah, you don’t come to my party and not dance with me,” he said, his lips parted with a mischievous smile. She shrugged a shoulder, biting her lip as she turned away from him, walking back towards Sebastian.
Again, she felt Damian’s arms around her waist, dragging her back into his body. His left arm wrapped across her waist, grabbing hold of her right hip. Her entire backside was pressed firmly against his hard body. “Not uh,” he whispered into her ear. For a moment, Gemma felt her legs go weak beneath her, but she quickly regained her composure, determined to be the one in control this time.
Wearing a somewhat apologetic pout, Gemma waved a goodbye at Sebastian. And with that, she reached up behind her, slipping a hand behind Damian’s neck. She felt their bodies swaying in unison like she had done with Sebastian moments before, but the sensation was markedly different. Gemma was thankful to be among a large group, or she was likely to make a move to embarrass herself again. Damian slipped a hand over her ribs, letting his thumb graze the underside of her breast. His lips brushed up against her temple, then along her ear before he pressed them against her earlobe. Gemma squeezed her eyes shut, completely overwhelmed by everything she was feeling. She was beginning to forget there were others around them. She was dying to turn around and tear Damian’s clothes off. What is he doing to me?
Gemma opened her eyes to see that they had danced into a corner, up against a wall. She leaned back against Damian, feeling every part of his body pressing into hers. Oh my God. Gemma felt almost dizzy as she let herself enjoy the sensation of his breath on her neck and his body against hers. She put her hands over his, pushing them to more neutral parts of her body as she steadied her own breath, watching the party go on around them. No one had spotted their foray into sexual territory, no one even knew what was going through the minds of the two people that had danced right through them. Everyone was partying and going about their business, not realizing the ball of sexual tension that had cut right through the group and into a corner of their own.
Gemma turned herself slowly, allowing every part of her body to graze Damian’s tense muscles as she faced him. He was breathing heavily, practically panting as he watched her. He looked almost helpless, his lips parted as he kept his eyes on her. It was the hold she had wanted to have on him, the definitive proof she needed.
Gemma smiled, exhaling as she pressed her hands against his chest, pushing her body away from his.
“I’m gonna head out,” she said casually. It took everything in her to do so, to follow through with her own words. Gemma leaned in, kissing him in the soft spot between his chin and his throat with parted lips. “I’ll see you around.”
~
Zoe seemed thankful that Gemma had asked to leave early. They said a quick goodbye to Azura, thanking her and exchanging numbers, before she flew out the front door. Gavin stayed behind with some friends, leaving the two girls alone in a cab they had managed to hail.
“Christ, I had enough in there,” Zoe sighed. “Jock boys are only really fun for the first hour.”
“Gavin doesn’t mind that I’m stealing you, does he?”
“Nah,” Zoe waved her hand. “He could use a little down time with his guys, and I could use a little down time with my girl. How’d it go with Damian?”
“Well,” Gemma laughed. “I’m quitting while I’m ahead.”
“Oh yeah?” Zoe smirked. “I saw him on our way out. That boy looked bothered. And it was all you, wasn’t it?” Gemma nodded, still laughing. She rolled down the windows, feeling the breeze of the night air as they drove over the bridge. “So you’re feeling a little better about everything, I’m guessing.”
“Definitely,” Gemma replied. “This party did a good job killing off the remainder of the embarrassment shudders I had from that horrible night.”
“Yeah,” Zoe laughed. “Damian’s the one doing the shuddering now.”
Gemma’s phone lit up. It was a text from Damian.
Where are you heading?
She showed Zoe the text.
“Don’t answer,” Zoe said, firmly. “I feel only sorta bad, because the poor boy looked like he was going to pass out from all that blood rushing from his brain. But leave it at that for now.”
Her phone buzzed again. Azura.
Don’t you text him back, girl!
Gemma laughed, leaning her head back against the headrest. It was all so devious, and as bad as she felt about what she was doing, she also felt pretty damn good.
~
The next morning, Gemma got a text from Armand letting her know that the twenty-five pieces she had chosen for the runway were ready for her approval. She jumped out of bed excitedly, throwing on an old t-shirt and sweatpants, leaving Zoe to continue sleeping peacefully.
Gemma opened the shop, her breath held as she walked into the backroom. She had waited for this day for ages, and she couldn’t wait to get to the next step. Before she even turned the corner into the backroom, she could see the reflections of color sprayed onto the normally plain, white walls. Armand had lined up five rows of five mannequins, all wearing a piece from her very first, official collection. She gasped, clasping her hands over hear heart as she wove around the plastic figures, admiring the freshly finished work. The morning sunlight streamed through the skylight, casting a perfect spotlight onto the collection.
For three years, she had dreamed of her Fashion Week premiere. Though she was eternally grateful for Armand’s mentorship and support, she was ready to step out on her own. Ready to be taken seriously. She wanted the public’s view of her to reflect all the incredibly hard work she had put into her new career. It was the only way she got through the hurtful comments from not only the media, but the people she encountered who doubted her abilities. After all, so many former pop stars and models and actresses had used the fashion industry as kind of a quick fix or a bandage for a failed or souring career. Gemma knew that wasn’t what she was doing. She wasn’t just slapping an old name on a line that someone else designed in hopes of resuscitating her fame.
After sitting on the floor for fifteen minutes and staring at the designs some more, Gemma decided it was that image that she wanted on the wall space behind her office. And she wanted it now.
Eyeing her cans of paint, she pulled her hair back into a bun, wavy again from the humid walk between her apartment and the studio. It was an impulsive decision but she figured she was already dressed to paint. Plus, she wanted to begin the mural while the image and emotions were still freshly etched in her mind and heart.
So for an hour, she painted as she hummed to herself, her heart pounding happily over the recent events. Her run-in with Tyler wasn’t particularly bad – in fact, Gemma was surprised she was able to stay as calm as she did. It helped that everything that happened in the hours before was particularly enjoyable. She laughed to herself, remembering the expression on Damian’s face. So evil. She did eventually feel bad, knowing she had more than sufficiently messed with his mind, but she reasoned that he had messed with hers just as badly in the weeks preceding. Although it wasn’t quite as intentional on his end so she did resolve to make it up to him.
Between that and the sight of the completed collection, Gemma was pr
etty sure nothing could bring her down. And to make things even better, Armand had texted that he was heading over soon with some brunch food. Gemma’s stomach had been growling quite a bit.
When she heard the sound of the front door opening, Gemma dropped her brushes and skipped out to greet him. She probably looked like a mess with her knotty hair and her paint-covered clothes. Of all people though, Armand would understand.
But to her absolute dismay, it wasn’t Armand coming in through the corridor.
Damian peeked into the backroom, wearing the same navy cotton t-shirt and jeans he had worn at the party the night before. He looked a little tired, but somehow it made him look all the more alluring. Gemma sighed, feeling defeated. So much for Sexy Gemma. She hadn’t even bothered with makeup that morning and she had chosen the easiest thing to put on. She plodded towards him in her flip-flops, arms crossed.
“Well, hey,” Damian laughed, reaching out to hug her. She face-planted against his chest, arms still crossed.
“Hi,” she said into his t-shirt. He took her by the shoulders, holding her out at an arm’s length to examine her. Gemma frowned as she watched his eyes check out her pathetic outfit.
“I almost feel like I dreamed last night,” Damian said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gemma scowled, smacking Damian hard on the chest. He grabbed a hold of her hand, laughing as he winced at the impact.
“It means,” he said, pulling her back in for a hug. “I’m not sure who I was dealing with last night, but this is more the Gemma I know.”
“So you’re saying you’re relieved to see me in my natural, unsexy state,” Gemma smirked.
“Unsexy?” he said, crossing his arms as he studied her. Gemma felt her smirk drop into a genuine smile. Damian lowered his voice as he reached for her face. “I don’t think there’s anything sexier than a girl with three different colors of paint caked in her hair.”
