I’m not sure if he meant it as harshly as it came out, but it sounded to me like he was harboring some pity for my lackluster love life. And now that I know he has exactly negative three romantic thoughts of me on his radar, I’m done.
I really thought we’d turned a corner; after his last breakup, our physical interactions became more and more frequent, the brotherly teasing he always doled out seemingly eased up, and there have been way more than one or two moments of romance novel-worthy tension between us in recent memory.
But I guess that was all in my head. He couldn’t have made it clearer how uninterested in me he is.
I think she might be the one.
Well, good for you, buddy. I hope she is. Because you just lost theonlyonewho’s stood by your side through absolutely everything.
If I start going down memory lane right now about all the things I’ve given up or missed out on to support him in his dreams, I might actually have a mental breakdown. I’ll save that for later tonight when I’m stuffing my face until I pass out in his old middle school drama tee that he outgrew at around age sixteen.
No. You know what? New and improved Gemma is going to pass out in herownshirt. Hah. Take that, ghost of what we could’ve been. Gemron is officially dead.
Something inside my chest has hardened, solidified into stone. It feels tight, and there’s a physical pain that wasn’t there yesterday. But this is good, right? The constant reminder of that pain means I won’t make that mistake again. This is surely the first step to moving on, right?
A hushed conversation nearby disrupts my train of thought, and my nerves are on edge when my ears make out what’s being said. I’m dangerously close to enteringbitch territory, but I doubt there’s much I can do about that at this point.
“Did you hear he got cast as the lead in that movie being shot in Croatia this summer?”
It’s actuallyRomania, but who am I to correct them?
“Oh my gawd,” the screechiest voice I’ve heard since that time Aaron shot a couple episodes for a show on the Disney Channel feels like it’s piercing my ear drum as the girls, who can’t be much younger than me, freak out in a corner of the small cafe. Okay, maybe I’m being a little harsh on her, but I digress. “I wouldliterally killto get chosen as a gofer on a set where I can see Aaron fucking Stone in a love scene.”
The first girl fans herself and pretends to faint at the thought, and I turn my head so I don’t have to witness them fangirling over the thought of my best friend. The one I fangirl over at any given chance. But at least I do it silently. Like a classy creep.
I guess I roll my eyes as I turn my back to them, because the screechy one calls out to me. “What? You have something to say to us?” She sounds more bitchy than defensive, but I’m not about to start something with this rando. I’m just having a pretty damn bad day thanks to the object of her obsession.
Her friend pipes up, quieter than Screechy, “Um, you, not us, Sal.”
“Shut up!” Screechy Sal hisses at her before turning her attention back to me. “If you have a problem with me, just say it.”
Oookay then.I’m not exactly what you’d call confrontational, but this seems like too perfect of an opportunity to pop her bubble and take out my resentment on Aaron in a particularly petty fashion, and who am I to snub Fate?
“You realize that he’s just a guy, right?” The irony of what I’m saying isn’t lost on me, even as my gut clenches at the thought of writing him off as the same as every other male on this round rock floating through space. He’s far from the rest of his speciesin my eyes, but he does have a lot of similarities to them, and those are what I’m focusing on as of right now.
It’s her turn to roll her eyes, and she looks like she’s going to brush me off, so I toss another line at her before she can. “He farts, and burps, and makes dumb jokes, gets too excited about really dumb fantasy shows just like the other nerds you know.”
This time they both seem to take offense at the less than flattering, but not at all untrue picture I’ve painted, seemingly shattering their perfect vision of him.
“Like you’d know,” the first one scoffs at me before they link arms and storm out of the cafe together.
Sigh. And here is the crux of my life. As Aaron’s best and kind of only friend, he’s been at the center of my life and, therefore, most of my memories since seventh grade. As his assistant for the last five years, I basically have no aspect of my life that doesn’t involve him. However, the number of people who know me and know that? I could count them on one hand. We have a small—okay, more of a nonexistent—circle. He has trust issues, and rightly so. I haven’t ever really had the time (or the desire) to create much of a life outside of him. But it does make any ventures into thereal worldwithout him interesting.
It’s not that often I walk into a conversation about the man like he’s some sort of demigod, but it’s kind of impossible for him tonotcome up when talking to me. I’m starting to realize how pathetic it sounds—trust me—but you can’t ask me about my job, my friends, my life, my hobbies, what I do with my free time without Aaron being mentioned. Obviously, I rarely share anything about that with strangers, but when his name does pop up, I usually get the same response.
Men tend to get a little excited, talking about whichever role of his was their favorite. I get a lot of disbelieving looks throughout, as if they’re gauging whether or not I’m telling the truth, but they usually ask me something stupid about him.What’s his workout routine? How much protein did he eat in a day before filmingRough and Tumble? What’s his favorite sports team?
I could answer them in my sleep, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Aaron told me I do from time to time. High-intensity interval training or weights, depending on the day of the week. He shoots for at least ninety grams per meal, four times a day. And on that last one? I just make a different one up every time. It might hurt their feelings to find out Aaron would rather watch a Marvel movie marathon for the seventy-third time than a single sporting event. Sometimes I scroll the Reddit subs on celebrity gossip, hoping someone starts a thread one day where all of his “favorite teams” come out. Minor chaos, but major fun for me.
Like I said, the guy’s a giant fucking nerd. But then again, so am I. Aside from the occasional Bruins game—and let’s be honest, I never watched hockey until a few good books opened my mind to it—I couldn’t care less about sports either.
Women, on the other hand, almost always tend to look me up and down, deeming me unfit for his company and, therefore, a liar. To be honest, it’s getting kind of old. I thought we were in our female empowerment era? Sadly, I don’t seem to experience much of this in real life, and that’s something I’d really like to see more of on a day-to-day basis.
I’m not sure what the physical requirements are to work for or befriend a B-list celeb—harsh, maybe, but he’s got a ways to go before he’s Ryan Reynolds for crying out loud, and I try not to let his ego go to his head—but apparently it’s not a gangly chick with minimal makeup and mousy brown hair, who’s almost always clothed in a boxy tee and comfy jeans with a pair of well-worn Toms.
Maybe I’m not fashionable enough for people to take me seriously? Well, that’s a given. I’ve never really had much female influence in my life to learn from, and the one time I did try toamp up my style, well, let’s just say Istillhaven’t recovered from Aaron’s response.
Maybe I’m supposed to wear makeup? Style my hair in something other than a haphazard topknot? Magically grow curves? Is lip filler a requirement?
