I watch silently from my perch on the picnic table, homed in on her every word, breath practically bated to make sure she’s fine.
“Better, thanks.” Gemma rubs one hand over her abdomen.
I would assume she’s talking about cramps, but she’s like clockwork and her cycle shouldn’t be starting for another week or so yet. I have alerts set up in the calendar on my phone so I can prepare myself, and bring treats to fend her off on the worst days. It sounds psycho-stalker, I know, but trust me, it’s better if I’m prepared.
“You should be good now, yeah?”
“Yeah, the doctor said once the initial pain wore off, I shouldn’t feel any more discomfort, and it’s been okay lately.”
“The first time I got an IUD in I couldn’t fu—” But none of us get to hear what it was Alex didn’t get to do because I’ve apparently jumped up and am storming over to them, sputtering. Not even sure when that happened.
“An IUD, Gem? Really?” I’ve never considered what her preferred form of birth control might be, but aren’t those things dangerous? I saw a meme where one fell out of some chick on a bus, and I just hope Gem is being careful. An accidental pregnancy is the last thing she needs right now. The last thingIneed in my life right now. My gaze runs up and down her frame, looking for evidence of I don’t know what. Whatever’s causing this bubbling in my gut, perhaps?
Two sets of eyes narrow and focus on my face, but I only stare back at one of them. The soft brown ones I’ve looked into almost every day of my life. The ones that have been a lot more closed off and distant lately when they’ve come my way, which—admittedly—has been a lot less frequent in recent weeks.
“This is your business…why?” The cold certainty in Gemma’s voice has me freezing in my tracks. That look on her face makes me want to rethink the words coming out of my mouth, but I’mnot sure I can stop them if I tried. Something inside me snapped when I heard them casually discussing her sex life, and I can’t just sit by and listen to it.
“You areliterallymy business, Gemma,” I seethe.
“My reproductive system isnot.”
Well, damn.She’s got me there.
“I don’t pay you to sit around and talk about your—” a shudder creeps out along my skin at the thought of the next words, “sex life. Save that shit for tea time at the cupcakery or whatever the fuck you two do when you hang out these days.”
Alex pops a bubble in her gum aggressively, likely her way of biting her tongue until Gem has had her say, and rolls her eyes.
“You don’t pay me at all right now, Stone. It’s lunch o’clock.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes—technically I pay her a salary, not hourly—and I open my mouth to make another comment, but Alex cuts me off.
“Jealous? Cause you can always come to tea time with us if Kayla isn’t filling that Gemma-sized hole in your life.” A sweet smile from her that is nothing but chilling—an assassin marking their target—and another pop of her bubble gum.
Apparently my self-preservation meter is broken. Nothing inside me stops my mouth from going too far.
“No, you know what? I’m tired of whatever thing you guys have going on. It’s like you just fuck off all the damn time, giggling and shit. You’re here to be my assistant, Gemma. Soassistme.”
Gemma sighs and stands up from the top of the picnic table she’s been perched on. Alex looks ready to fight me on this, but Gemma holds up a hand to tell her she’s got this one and says something under her breath which makes Alex glare at me before walking away, shooting daggers at me while she saunters backward the entire way. If I looked closer, I’d prolly see two middle fingers pointed at me, but I don’t bother.
Alex is barely out of earshot before I’m going off on my best friend, and I don’t even know why, just that this unease deep in my gut needs to stop and this is the only thing I can think of to relieve that pressure. “Gem, I’m really happy you’re finally dating, but welcome to the real world, where every fucking person in existence dates, and we don’t all talk about it twenty-four-fucking-seven. Is it too much to ask that during work hours, you fucking work?”
She shoves her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, new ones by the looks of ’em. A lot tighter than what she usually wears. I wish I didn’t notice that the pose she’s in now makes her chest pop out, but this new fucking shirt she’s wearing is kind of demanding my attention at the moment, and that just pisses me off even more.
“What, so you’re mad that someone wants to talk to me instead of you for once? You’re better than that, kid. What is this actually about, Aaron? Hmm? Can you just say whatever it is that’s really got your panties in a fucking knot the last month so we can move past it? Or are you going to sulk forever?”
I bite my tongue for all of a quarter second before spitting out my response. “You know he’s only paying attention to you because you look…” My hand waves feverishly up and down in her general direction, pointing out all the changes that are obvious to me and anyone else who’s known her for more than a few weeks. “Different now.”
“Wow,” she breathes, in a voice that’s either sarcastic or genuinely wounded, I can’t tell which. “Thanks for believing in me, Aaron. Your faith in me and my finer qualities really means a lot.”
“I’m just saying. Don’t you think it’s interesting this guy only wants to date you now that you’re dressing likethis?”
She takes her hands out of her pockets and crosses her arms over her chest. “Actually, I’m finding it interesting thatthat’swhat you’re chalking it up to. So again, thanks for believing in me, Aaron.” She takes a step away from me before turning back to face me once more. “This has been enlightening. And I think it might be time for you to get an assistant who actuallyassistsyou for a change. You know, since I apparently don’t. And maybe you can get one whose redeeming qualities go beyond their looks, in your eyes.”
My jaw would drop, but I’m too busy clenching it for all I’m worth, grinding my teeth as she tests my uncharacteristically thin patience. “All I meant was it’d be great if you spent a little less time gossiping with Alex and a little more time helping me get my lines down. Or staying on top of the tasks for the household. Or setting up Romania. Or anything that I fucking pay you to do, I’m really not picky.”
Her nostrils flare at that, and I realize this might be the first actualfightwe’ve ever had. I’m used to seeing her go head to headforme, neverwithme, and I can’t say I like the way this feels. She tends to use her words carefully, like precision weapons, rather than just throwing out buckshot, hoping to hit something wherever it may land, like I do. If my wits were about me right now, I’d be a little more scared of where this is going.
Her head tilts to one side, her ponytail flopping over her shoulder with the movement. Her next words pierce my chest like the sharpest of Wolverine’s adamantium claws. “Nah, I think I’m good.”
