I laugh despite myself.
Rude.
Having to leave you after that kiss last night was also rude.
I’ll see you at soundcheck this morning. Please don’t be late.
Happy concert day, Bonnie.
I stare at our messages for another second, only closing my phone and setting it on the blanket when Zeb passes me our cigarette. I take a long draw and press my palm onto the ground behind me, relaxing as we take in the morning sunrise.
“I did a thing,” I say, breaking our morning silence.
Zeb sips his coffee and rests his arms on his bent knees. “I wondered what that little smile was about. You text your stalker again?” he asks.
Ohshit.
My stalker.
Thank fuck she isn’t here this weekend.
“Ah… I mean, I’ve done that, too, but I meant something bigger than that,” I manage.
“Okay… spill,” he says.
“So, Gemma. Yesterday after—before Foster’s party, we—”
Zeb takes the cigarette out of his mouth and eyes me sideways. “Spit it out.”
“I fucked Gemma,” I blurt.
“Finally,” he mutters.
“Well, actually, she… she fucked me. Until I cried,” I admit.
Zeb chuckles deviously. “You cried?” he asks.
“I wassobbing,” I say, hands flopping in my lap.
Zeb’s laughter grows, and I shove him.
“Shut up. I tried pushing her away—”
He balks slightly, brows narrowed. “Like… she wouldn’t take no for an answer, or you tried pulling your usual ‘you shouldn’t love me’ bullshit?” he asks.
“The latter,” I say, brushing him off.
He turns his head in my direction. “Why does it feel like you’re still not telling me something?”
“Probably because it’s happened before,” I say. “Well, not exactly the same thing. She rode my hand in the elevator foyer at the studio the other week.”
“What the fuck.” Zeb curls over laughing. “What about the girl you had at the apartment the other night? The one who tied you up?”
“That was nothing. I was horny,” I argue.
It was my stalker.
And she railed me until I screamed Gemma’s name.
