chapter playlist ⏯
• mystery of love - sufjan stevens
• cardigan - taylor swift
• all too well - taylor swift
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shawn >>>
Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
I felt my throat tighten up. I suddenly felt weak. This is not happening.
I have to keep my cool.
Maybe I can just sneak away.
But I don't want to sneak away. I want her to see me. No, I want to see her. I need to see her.
But how? I don't even know what I'd say.
I'll just sneak away. I turned to leave.
"Shawn!"
Fuck.
I turned back around, and Edith's eyes met mine. I don't know what they were trying to say, but whatever message they were sending me completely flew out the window when Gemma Clark turned around and looked right at me. Her eyes—those perfect, deep, dark brown eyes I'd looked into a million times—were on mine for the first time in over a year.
I dropped my phone.
Fuck.
"I thought you were in Vegas!" Edith said to me as I bent down to pick up my phone.
No, you didn't, you liar. I know I told Brad, and I know he told you. You just want Gemma to believe that you thought that. So you could get us here, facing each other, looking into each other's eyes. Well, for a split second.
"Paige had to fly back to France for a wedding," I explained, trying my best to not look at Gemma. I ran my fingers through my hair. My face must be bright red. I want to disappear.
"Cool," Edith said, looking from Gemma to me. "Well, I guess I'll leave you guys to catch up."
Then she walked away. And I was standing next to Gemma Clark. My heart was beating out of my chest, so much so that I'm surprised she didn't notice.
"Hey," she said sheepishly. She smiled at me, but not the way she used to. She brushed her hair behind her ear, but then quickly pulled it back out. She was avoiding my eyes as much as she could, and I was avoiding hers, too. "I'm sorry. I mean, about Edith. I wasn't in on this or anything. You can just walk away, if you want."
"No, it's cool," I replied, returning her smile. I didn't want to walk away, not one bit. "I didn't know you were going to be in town."
"I didn't know you were either," she said, and it felt a bit cold. Obviously she didn't want to see me. Truthfully, if I would have known she was going to be here, I wouldn't have come. Not because I don't want to see her. Just because the thought of seeing her again made me itch nervously. But here I am, standing next to her, feeling surprisingly un-itchy.
"I'm just visiting Gabby for the weekend," she continued. She has always taken the "godmother" title quite seriously. I always liked that. "Edith dragged me out, and I really didn't have any good excuse. So, here I am."
God, hearing her talk to me felt amazing. I have imagined what this conversation would feel like a million times in my head, and now we're doing it. In the version in my head, however, she usually confessed that she still loved me and regretted everything she did and said last March, but I didn't really expect that part to ever come into fruition. This was good enough, for now.
"What about you, superstar?" she asked with a smile. She was gaining confidence as we went on; I could tell. She has the upper hand on me, really. I'm just the idiot she broke up with. She's the heartbreaker.
I shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't want to come, but Paige is out of town and Connor was nagging me. I didn't have a good excuse."
I wanted to stare at her. I wanted to take her in again. Her eyes and her lips and her nose and her ears and her hair and her fingers and her legs. I wanted to remember it, to know it like I used to know it so well.
Stop. You have a girlfriend.
Gemma just nodded.
"So, did Edith really not know you were here? Or was this just a big plan to get us to see each other again?" she asked. I had to laugh.
"I thought the same thing. I really don't know," I replied, which was true. I definitely have my suspicions. Connor was practically begging me to come, which he doesn't really do anymore.
Silence between us. Well, the room was loud. The music was loud. I wanted to be in a quiet room with her, just to talk. I just want to hear her voice with no background noise. I want to look at her with no distractions.
She took the last sip of her drink, downing it as if she needed the boost.
"You're graduating soon, right?" I asked, remembering that she's only a month or two away from being done with school.
She nodded. "Yep. You don't even know how excited I am to be done."
I chuckled. "I can still see you hunched over your laptop and like, seven books at three a.m., on the verge of tears, threatening to drop out."
She laughed, throwing her head back like she genuinely thought that was funny. I felt so accomplished.
"And now, you're almost done," I said. "Must feel good."
I remember all those nights where she stayed up later than me to study, and all those times she said she couldn't hang out because she had work to do, and all those meltdowns about how she was never going to make it. And now she's made it, and I don't get to see it. I feel robbed.
She nodded. "I just need to pass my exams. Then I'll feel good."
As if there was any chance she wouldn't pass them.
"What have you been up to? The usual?" she asked.
I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I've had a pretty chill couple of weeks, though. I'm trying to lay low until summer."
She nodded. "Sounds smart. Busy summer?"
"Very busy summer," I replied. She knew all about busy summers. I didn't want to talk about me anymore, though. "Edith says you're working for Isaac now? Like, for real?"
Shit. That makes it sound like I've been asking Edith what she's up to. Which I have, but I can't have her knowing that.
"Yeah, I am," she replied. "It's really great, actually. I'm working on another novel, too."
"Really? That's great," I said. I was honestly really happy to hear that. She's so good.
"Yeah," she said, smiling. She seemed brighter than she did the last time I saw her. Obviously. But just in general. She seems like there's a little more light inside her. It made me feel bad about myself, but happy for her.
Neither of us said anything for a moment. My drink was gone and all I wanted was to keep holding on this.
"Would you want to leave and go get some coffee or something? Just to talk, obviously," I heard my voice ask.
I said that? Those words came out of MY mouth? Where did this confidence suddenly come from?
The next few seconds were utter agony. I was waiting for the cold slap in the face of her rejection, which I'd felt before, but she actually smiled.
"Sure. I'd like that," she said. "Let me find Edith and tell her."
I nodded. "I'll wait here."
She disappeared to find Edith, and I felt like I could finally let my breath go. I haven't been that nervous in so long.
I waited there for her, wondering if she was actually planning on coming back. Maybe this was her escape route away from me. That'd be humiliating. But then I saw her walking towards me, looking at me, and I was sent back in time, to nights when we were nineteen and leaving some crowded place to go back to her apartment. She'd kiss me in the car, and we'd hold hands walking to her door, and it never even crossed my mind that it was going to end.
"Okay. I'm ready."
All of a sudden she was right in front of me. She smelled like coconut, because of her coconut-smelling shampoo, and I loved it.
Seriously. You need to get a grip.
"Let's go, then," I said with a smile, and she laughed softly as we started towards the door.
When we got outside, it was dark. I examined her as discreetly as I could. She was wearing this red plaid miniskirt with a black tank top tucked into it. She was wearing her Doc Martens, which I remember her loving. She had white nails and hoop earrings. Her hair was wavy and brown again, which I loved. I don't know what I would have done if I had seen Blonde Gemma. This Gemma is the one I know and love. Knew and loved, I suppose is more accurate.
"I don't want us being together to freak your girlfriend out," she said when we were in my car, buckling our seatbelts. "Obviously nothing's going to happen, but still."
"Well, I don't want to freak your boyfriend out," I replied. It felt like banter, almost, even though I know she actually meant it. To be honest, I don't give a fuck about how Jesse Cooper feels about me being alone in a car with his girlfriend.
"He won't be freaked out," she said coolly. Because he thinks I'm not a threat? Or because he just trusts you so much because he's the best boyfriend in the entire world?
"Well, Paige won't either," I replied, even though I didn't know if that was true. It probably wasn't. I'm probably fucking things up right now, but my judgement is out the window at this point.
"Okay. Cool," she said, holding her gaze on me a little longer than I expected, tilting her head a bit like she was both amused and confused by me.
Then she faced forward, and I took that as a signal to start driving. We didn't speak for a while, just listened to the faint sound of the radio. I don't think either of us knew what to say next without getting into all the...deep stuff.
A few minutes later, we were at a coffee shop that I remember us going to on numerous occasions. I hope she doesn't think I'm being sentimental on purpose, even though I kind of am. This was just close.
"I'm sorry, but isn't this so weird? How the fuck am I in your car? I haven't seen you in over a year," she said when the car was parked, looking over at me. "And now look at me. Just sitting here like nothing ever happened."
I laughed a little. "Yeah. It is really weird. I don't even know what to say."
She laughed, too.
Then we looked at each other. I knew she was looking at me to get a read on what I was thinking, and I was looking at her for the same reason, but neither one of us gave anything away. At least she didn't. I tried very hard not to.
I decided to get out of the car before I did something stupid or said something stupid. I almost walked to the other side of the car to open her door for her, but then I remembered that we're not together at all and that that would totally cross a line.
Eventually, we were at a corner booth that I remember us sitting in, and she was tearing open multiple sugar packets to dump in her coffee. She looked unbelievably hot; it felt weird to see her doing something so...normal, like opening sugar packets, looking like that.
You know who else is hot? Your girlfriend.
"Coffee order hasn't changed, huh?" I asked, watching her with an amused smile. It's more like sugar and cream with a side of coffee.
She stirred it together. "Nope. Nothing much has changed."
It's funny, because it feels like everything has changed and nothing has changed, all at the same time.
"Tell me about Paige," she said, looking at me and then her coffee before taking her first sip. I could tell it was too hot from the way she scrunched her nose. "What's she like? She seems sweet. And she's literally the prettiest girl in the world."
The way she said it all so nonchalantly bothered me so much. I could never speak so casually about Jesse. Like I want to be his friend.
"She's...great," was all I was able to say for a moment. I was deciding how I want to swing this. Do I want to paint Paige as the "best person on the entire planet" to make her jealous? Or should I be realistic for the sake of honesty?
"She's really sweet, and funny, and bubbly, and...bright. She's like a ray of sunshine," I said. That was honesty. Paige is amazing; I'd be lying to say differently. Gemma smiled. It was genuine. "She's really energetic. Always doing something. She doesn't even like sleeping in."
Gemma looked shocked. "Not even on the weekend?"
I shook my head. "Not even on the weekend."
She sipped her coffee again. "She sounds like the opposite of me," she said. "Which isn't a bad thing."
I shook my head. "It's not like that," I said, trying to refute what seemed like an insinuation that I was actively looking for a girl unlike her. Obviously false. "She took a lot of getting used to, I'll admit. You just...weren't like that."
"I just wanted to do nothing, all the time," she said with a smile. It seemed like a bit forced.
"No," I said, and I wanted to say something else, but I didn't know what to say. So, I just stopped.
"Tell me about Jesse, then," I said, changing the subject. I knew about Jesse, though. They were friends while we were still dating. He's not new, and that made my blood boil, for some reason.
"I don't know what you want me to say," she said shyly.
"Just...what's he like?" I asked. I can't bring myself to say something nice about him, even though I know that that's wrong.
"He's...another guy who's just way too good to be stuck with me," she said, smiling a little, like the thought of him was just too good to keep trapped inside her body. "He's kind, and funny, and gentle, and smart. He dotes on me, like you used to."
I remember doting on her. He dotes on her, too?
"He sounds perfect," I said, joking but not joking.
"He's quite close," she replied, which isn't what I wanted to hear. "He's smarter than me, though, and that messes with my intellectual superiority complex."
I had to laugh. She laughed, too. It felt incredible to laugh with her.
Of course she can't date someone who does something normal. She dates a biochemist. How do you think I stack up next to an actual scientist?
"He was always into you," I said.
She shrugged. "Apparently. We really didn't get close until after you and I broke up, though."
I nodded, choosing to believe her.
"You met Paige while we were dating, didn't you?" she asked. I didn't know she knew that.
I nodded. "Yeah. Briefly. In Paris."
Our first conversation was about you and your depression.
"Right," she said. Did she sound...bitter? The thought made me want to smile.
"It's weird how all of it ended up," I said. I didn't elaborate because even I didn't really know what I meant.
"Yeah. It's weird that when we were dating, I thought I knew exactly how everything was going to end up. And now..." she said, looking at her drink and not me. "Nothing turned out the way I pictured it."
I laughed a little, thinking about her words. Nothing turned out the way I pictured it. I think she pictured it like I did. Moving in together, getting engaged, getting married, buying a house together, having kids. All the stuff you do with someone you think is The One. And she's right—nothing turned out the way I pictured it, either.
We were both quiet. I heard the faint sound of Perfect by Ed Sheeran playing. Gemma and I liked to slow dance in the kitchen to this song.
"I'm sorry," she said abruptly after a couple moments. "I'm sorry for breaking up with you. I didn't want to. Everything just escalated and...it felt like the only way out. I feel terrible for hurting you, because I really never wanted to hurt you. I just...wanted you to be free of me. Free of the burden that I was."
I took a deep breath, then let it go. I was far from mad at her. Still, remembering that she broke up with me gets my blood pumping. That night was wild, in all the worst ways.
"I just..." I started, then stopped. I don't even know how to articulate the way I feel when she's here, looking at me. I'm too fucking nervous.
"It's okay. I know it was a really hard time for you, and I wish I could have been there for you when you needed me. Because we both know I wasn't," I said, which was true. She was going through some heavy shit while I was four thousand miles away. She felt alone.
"It wasn't your fault," she said softly. "I never picked up when you called, anyway."
True. Even if she did pick up, I don't know how much I could have done via phone.
"No," I said. "You didn't."
"We just didn't communicate. I didn't try to communicate. I just wanted to sink further into my depression, because it was easier than trying to fight it. And I didn't want to get you involved, because you would have tried to fix it, and you didn't have time to fix it," she said. "You were right about all the things you said to me that night. They hurt, but they were true. I let all that stuff define me for so long."
I shook my head. "No. I said stuff that was way out of line. I was just pissed, and I didn't mean any of it. I just...wanted to hurt you like you were hurting me. And it was wrong."
I regret saying pretty much everything I said to her the night we broke up. God, I said some mean things. I was hitting below the belt and I knew it. My emotions just got the best of me, I guess. I just don't ever want her to believe that I meant those things. I just wanted her to get mad. I wanted her to finally show some emotion, good or bad, towards me. I was sick of the constant, constant apathy.
She just nodded. I still feel bad. The words we said haunt me all the time.
"I didn't plan on it, you know," she said. "I didn't ever plan on breaking up with you. It was just...when you said you weren't staying in New York after tour, I took it as you wanting to be away from me. I thought maybe you wanted to take a break but didn't want to hurt me by saying it. So, I said it, but I didn't want it. I swear to God, that's how I felt."
Woah. This is new information. This is stuff I didn't know.
I didn't think that she went into that weekend thinking that she was going to break up with me, but I didn't think it was because of what I said that night at three o'clock. I certainly didn't think me saying I was going back to LA made her think I wanted a break.
"Then we started fighting, and you said all those things, and it just felt so obvious to me that you were miserable with me," she continued. "So, I said we should break up. Because I thought you wanted to get away from me. And I knew I needed to get help. I wanted to end it for both our sakes. I couldn't take another fight like that. I couldn't take knowing I made you feel that way."
Fuck.
That whole night just kept flashing before my eyes. I could see her, wearing a tank top and sweatpants, teary eyes glistening behind her glasses lens. I could see her begging me to stay. I could see me pulling my hand out of her grasp.
"I didn't know," I said. "I didn't know that it was like that. I thought..."
I don't know what I thought. I thought she wanted to break up, even if for my sake. I thought she had woken up that night to tell me she wanted to break up, after thinking about it since the fight we had had earlier that day.
"I thought you got up that night to tell me you thought we should take a break," I said. "I thought that was why you came into the living room."
She shook her head. "I just got up to see where you were. I thought maybe you'd left. I just wanted to make sure you hadn't. That was all."
I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. Everything happened because I said I was going back to LA, pretty much. Which was a fucking dumb thing to say. There was no reason for me to not stay with her. We had been talking about the day I'd finally get to live with her for the entire tour. I was going to go back to LA just to spite her, just to make her mad. I was an idiot.
It doesn't really change anything, though. We were a bomb just waiting to go off. She's right; we were both pretty miserable in our own ways at that point.
Silence again.
"I'm glad we ended things and that you've moved on, though. That's what I wanted," she said, smoothing out her hair. "You've found someone who isn't so...suffocating. Someone who can be what you need and doesn't need you to be anything extra for her. And I have Jesse, who's everything I could ever ask for. But I just..."
She stopped, looking anywhere but my eyes.
"I kind of miss it," she said, her voice soft. "What you and I had."
I looked at her and our eyes met.
"I miss it, too," I replied. I do miss it, more than I'd like to admit. What she and I had was once in a lifetime.
"You do?" she asked, sounding surprised.
"Why wouldn't I?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know why you would miss it, with me being the way I was."
I miss it because I loved you, Gemma.
"It's not...it's not that simple," I said. "You weren't always that way. And even when you were, I still wanted to be with you just as much. There were good moments at the end, you know. I know we both only think about the bad, but it wasn't all horrible. There were still lots of good moments."
"Yeah, I guess there were," she said with a faint smile. Then she sighed. "It just feels like a completely different lifetime. Like those people aren't the same as the people sitting here."
I totally got that. The distance between us and the weird way we weren't completely comfortable anymore felt so weird. I don't feel
like I'm the same guy who used to know every inch of her. She seems the same, but it's like something is off.
"I know," I said. "I feel that way, too."
Neither of us said anything for a few moments.
"I really am sorry," she told me, her voice quiet. "For everything."
My heart hurt.
"Me too," I replied. Even though she was the one who ended things, I felt like I had some apologizing to do, too. I wasn't the best. I didn't put up enough of a fight. I gave up on her, even before we broke up.
"You didn't do anything. I'm the one who ruined everything. I can't..." she trailed off into an almost laugh. "My therapist tells me not to always blame myself for everything, but I am the only one to blame here."
I almost smiled. She does blame herself for everything. She's usually wrong, though, and this time is no different. She's definitely not the only one to blame.
"How are you? With all of that...stuff," I asked, referring to everything she had that she was currently on medication for.
She shrugged. "I've improved a lot since then, obviously. I still have rough phases, though, where I get bad, like I used to. But it's a lot better."
I nodded. "That's good," I replied. "I know how all of that eats away at you."
She seemed to get shy. "Yeah. It really does. It's like...worry and pressure and nervousness crawl into my skull and seep into my brain and just stay there. And I never escape it."
I felt bad hearing that.
"It's a lot better now. I just need to remember my meds," she said, as if she was reminding herself. It's funny, because so often I was the one bringing them to her.
"You know, I'm taking something for my anxiety now."
"You are?" she asked, and I nodded. "Wow, I never thought you'd actually do something about that. That's really good to hear. You need it, badly."
I smiled to myself. "Yeah. I guess I do."
"Doesn't it feel good to be balanced?" she asked. "I mean, I know you're not as bad as me, but like, it feels so good to just be able to breathe, doesn't it?"
I nodded. "Yeah. It's a really good feeling."
She absentmindedly stirred her coffee, which was close to empty. "How's the family?"
I shrugged. "The same I guess. My sister took the break up the hardest."
Gemma smiled, but I could see in her eyes that she felt guilty.
"Yeah, Liam was pretty torn up about it when I told him," she replied. "My dad was, too."
"Really?" I asked, a bit too eagerly. Our entire relationship, I just wanted her dad to like me. This would be like the icing on the cake.
She nodded. "Of course. You were like part of the family. And he thought that you treated me how I deserved to be treated."
I did. Well, she probably deserved a bit more. But I really tried. It makes me feel good that he noticed.
"I miss them," I said honestly. I loved her family. "My parents took it pretty bad, too. I overheard my mom telling my dad that she "'really thought Gemma was the one.'"
That's true. And it hurt to hear, because I almost felt like she was disappointed in me. Even though Gemma is the one who broke up with me and there was nothing I could do about it.
Gemma laughed a little, like it was funny. I guess it was kind of funny.
"I thought that, too," she said. "So I can't blame her."
"Yeah. Me too," I replied, fidgeting with my hands. "I guess that's what we get for being young and naïve."
She smiled. "Yeah. I guess so."
We small talked for the rest of the time, discussing things that weren't so heavy on the heart. It was so odd that we were just sitting there together, talking as if it hadn't been a year since our relationship had its tumultuous downfall. Even as we walked outside to my car, I was trying to wrap my head around it.
"I'll just take you to Brad and Edith's?" I asked. I hoped she would agree, because I knew it would take us at least thirty minutes to get there, maybe even more, and I wanted to maximize my time with her.
"No, it's okay. Just take me back to the party," she said. "Brad and Edith's is like, way out of the way."
"No," I replied. "I'm just going to go home, anyway. It's late."
"You really don't have to."
"I really want to."
She looked at me, as if she was forcing back a smile. "You are still so stubborn, did you know that?"
I had to smile, but didn't reply.
We spent the car ride catching up on the music we had listened to in the past year. One of her more passionate obsessions has been Bon Iver, which was demonstrated when we listened to Re: Stacks and she knew every single word. It was nice to hear her talk about something she loved. I miss hearing her talk like that. It's like I can't help but just love whatever she's talking about too, because if it makes her that happy, it must be good. I'd be honored to know she ever talked about me like that.
About thirty-five minutes later, we made it to Brad and Edith's. The thought of dropping her off and not speaking to her for another year was painful, but I didn't know if there was any way around it. As good as this night has been, I still don't really know about the possibility of a friendship between us. There's too much between us for things to ever feel normal.
She didn't get out of the car when I parked it, though, which got me excited about the possibility of us sitting here and talking more.
I was reminded of the first time we met. She was in my car, sitting right there, and I was totally captivated by her. Feels pretty similar now.
"Thank you," she said, not looking at me. "For understanding. It's nice to know you haven't hated me all these months."
"Well, it's nice to know that you're doing better," I said. "Even if it hurt a lot, I'm glad that us breaking up meant you getting help. I'm glad you got out of that bad place."
She just nodded. She probably doesn't want to talk about her mental health problems, and I keep bringing them up, and that is something we fought about on the day we broke up and I should have learned my lesson.
"Sorry," I said, feeling embarrassed. "I know you don't want to talk about all that stuff. It's rude of me to bring it up."
She shook her head. "No, it's not. You have the right to talk about. You dealt with it every day for almost two years. It's dumb of me to act like it's only my problem, because it's not. It affected you, too. I mean, it's pretty much the whole reason we broke up."
That's true. Still. I shouldn't insert myself, especially now that we're strangers again.
More silence. This one was much more comfortable than all the other silences we've endured tonight.
"It was all real to me," she said, looking down at her hands. "Everything I said, everything I wrote, everything I did. I meant it all."
I have been wondering that since we broke up. I thought maybe our relationship wasn't as real to her as it was to me; I thought that someone who loved someone as much as I thought she loved me could never break up with them. However, upon further reflection, I now know that she only did it because she loved me so much.
"Me too," I replied. "It really was very real. And really special."
She chuckled. "Special is an understatement."
My heart did a backflip when she said that.
"I had really never known love until you. Honestly. No guy had ever shown me or told me that they loved me like you did. And that really meant a lot to me. It still does," she said. "I just wish I could have done a better job showing you. Because you deserved a lot more."
I just shook my head. "For being the smartest girl I've ever met, you say a lot of really stupid things."
"Excuse me?" she asked, but I didn't answer.
I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket. Hidden inside was a note she wrote me forever ago. I pulled it out and unfolded it.
shawn,
(this isn't a poem because i don't have the time to make it into one. this is just how i feel about you, right now in this moment.)
i love you more than i ever knew i could love a person. you have brought the deepest, darkest parts of me out into the sunlight and shown them the most deep and incandescent love. you have endlessly loved the things I hate about myself and have put all of my pain and irrational anxieties on your back, as if they're yours to carry. you have taken all of the broken pieces of my heart and glued it back together, better than it ever was before. my heart is yours and will always be yours. in every sense of the phrase, i love you.
She read it, and I didn't have to, because I've memorized it by now. She looked up at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. It seemed a little hopeless.
"You're the girl who wrote this for me," I told her. I felt all the feelings that I've felt for her for the past year come rising up in my body. They burned in my throat.
"I knew exactly how you felt. And I felt the exact same way," I said. "There was not a second in our relationship where I questioned how you felt about me. Every day, I knew you loved me more than anything. Even at the end, I knew how much you loved me. You never made me feel any less than unconditionally loved."
All true. Even the last few months before we broke up, when she didn't even answer my calls...I knew it wasn't because she didn't love me or care about me. She was just lost.
She looked away from me and blinked, as if she was blinking back tears. I didn't want her to cry. That's the last thing I want.
I looked at the note again. It was in her half-cursive, half-printed handwriting, and had suffered just a few creases from being in my wallet for two years. Paige hasn't found it yet. At least, if she has, I don't know about it. I keep it hidden well.
"You keep that with you?" she asked, her voice soft.
I nodded, suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed. "I mean, I don't look at it that often, but...I don't know. It's been in there since we were dating, and I've just never wanted to take it out."
She smiled weakly. "That's really sweet. You never told me about that."
I shrugged. I don't know why I didn't tell her I had put it in there. But if it made her happy to hear about it now, then I'm glad this is first time she's hearing about it.
She looked at her hands again, examining her perfect fingernails. I looked at the rings on her fingers and longed to see the one I gave her nearly two years ago. I wonder if she still has it. Where she still has it.
"My therapist says I need to get closure from you in order to fully get over you," she said. "I guess this is a pretty good opportunity."
That implies that she's not fully over me.
"What kind of closure?" I asked. She wants closure? I feel like all tonight has done is opened a wound that I thought was almost healed.
She shrugged. "I don't really know what closure is. Maybe I've already gotten it, I don't know."
"Well, are you fully over me?" I asked, putting her on the spot.
She just looked at me. I thought she'd give a quick yes, of course, but it took a moment for her to think. My heart was racing.
"No. I don't think I'll ever be over you. Fully," she replied, her voice soft and shy. She turned towards me a bit, so we were pretty much facing each other.
"Yeah," I agreed, looking at her closely. "Me neither."
"You're not fully over me?" she asked, as if she was surprised to hear it. I could have sworn I saw her eyes flick to my lips. I'm probably just deceiving myself, though.
I debated on what I was going to say. I searched her eyes, looking for the words she wanted me to say. I couldn't find them. So, I just said how I felt.
"No," I said. "Not even close."
She looked at me, seemingly unfazed by my words. Now I swear that she's looking at my lips.
"And I know that's pathetic, because I have a girlfriend, and it's been a year since we broke up, but..."
My mind was suddenly too clouded for clear thought, and it forbade me from speaking anymore. I couldn't keep my eyes off her, and I couldn't keep my mind out of places it shouldn't go. I looked her in her eyes, and she held her gaze on me, like she was daring me to do something.
"Can I kiss you?"
I said it all in one breath. The words were so shocking to hear come from my mouth, but what was even more shocking was the way she took my face in her hands and kissed me before the sentence was even over.
Is this really happening?
It was magic. It was electricity. It was everything I remember it being, and then some. Everything in my body was telling me more more more. All I want is this, all I want is her lips on mine, her hands in my hair, her heart close enough to mine that I can feel it beating. I felt like an addict relapsing.
How is she an even better kisser now? It made me feel sick to my stomach, thinking about her kissing Jesse like this, but then I remembered that she was kissing me right now, so I recovered quickly.
Oh, fuck. Jesse. Paige. I'm cheating on my girlfriend. She's cheating on her boyfriend.
Not cool, dude.
It was like Gemma read my mind.
"I shouldn't have done that," she said breathlessly after abruptly pulling away. As if was just a "that." Jesus Christ, she looked a million times hotter than before, which I didn't even think was possible. Her eyes lingered on me, and I hoped she was having a similar epiphany. Probably not, though.
"Well, I liked it," I replied smoothly, and her look of worry turned into a smile, and then she laughed. We both sat back in our seats, creating more distance between us, trying to catch our breath.
"I'm not a cheater," she said, as if I had accused her of it. "And you're not either. And this is...wrong, anyway."
"Technically, you are a cheater," I told her. "You just cheated."
"Shut up." I could see that she was trying not to smile. I was surprised by the equanimity she was displaying under such circumstances. I would have thought she'd be completely freaking out.
"Hey, I'm not judging you. I'm a cheater, too, you know," I told her, just as a joke. Just to see her smile. It worked, but in all honesty, all I could think about was kissing her again. I felt it in my gut, like a need. I need her lips on mine. It doesn't seem like she feels the same way, though. Or maybe she's just a better person than me. Probably that.
She sunk down in her seat. "What are we going to do?" she asked, putting her face in her hands.
"Nothing," I said, looking straight forward. "You and I are the only ones who know. Just...don't say anything to anyone."
"You want me to lie?"
"No. I want you to not tell the truth, which is different from lying," I told her. "If he asks, did you and Shawn kiss, then you can tell him the truth if you feel so strongly inclined. But telling him the truth is going to ruin everything between you two. And it seems like you really don't want that."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you obviously think he's amazing," I said, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. "And he probably is. You just seem like you really like him. I wouldn't want you to ruin that."
"I can't believe you're actually jealous right now," she said, looking at me with this playful smile that drove me crazy.
"Of course I'm jealous! I've been jealous for what, six months?" I said. "I'm jealous out of my mind, Gemma."
"Was I supposed to wait for someone who was never coming?" she asked. "You had already moved on two months before Jesse and I became a thing!"
"Well, if you wanted me, you should have said so. Because your radio silence for six months led me to believe you weren't interested anymore. So I moved on."
She shook her head. "I just...by the time I felt ready to be in a relationship again, you were with her. And Jesse was right there, waiting for me, and I couldn't think of a good reason not to be with him. And I didn't want good people to keep slipping through my fingers because I pushed them away. I didn't...I couldn't make the same mistakes I made with you."
God, I should have waited longer for her. That part is all my fault.
"I didn't want to move on from you, you know. I just got sick of wallowing in my own sadness, which was all I did for months, and then Paige came around, and she made me feel good. She wanted me, and made an effort, which—no offense—was a lot more than you were doing at the end of our relationship. And I just thought that being with her would make me forget about you. I wasn't moving on with her because I was ready to move on. I was moving on because I was scared you'd be ready first."
She looked over at me, as if she was surprised to hear that. I guess I've had no idea what her perception of me was. Maybe it seemed like I had found the love of my life in Paige. Maybe it seemed fast. I don't know.
"A lot could be different if we just..."
"Talked?" I finished for her.
We both laughed.
"Yeah. I just...didn't know how. I didn't know how to reach out. I wanted to, but I thought I'd be a hypocrite. I was trying to keep you away from me, and calling you would have been very counterintuitive," she said. Which made sense.
"I know," I said. "I understood that. I've never resented you or anything."
She nodded. "I'm really glad. Because I really did think you hated me."
I laughed, the thought was so absurd. "I could never hate you."
"Well, I hate me," she said, sighing. She put her face in her hands. "I should have known this would happen."
"What? Us kissing?"
She nodded. "You and I can't be just friends. There is way too much between us."
That's endlessly true.
"Let's just go back to avoiding each other," I said. "You'll plan your visits for when I'm out of town, and I'll ask Edith about you every week just to make sure you're okay instead of ever calling you."
She laughed. "Sounds like a plan. I mean, it worked for a year."
"Yeah. It would have kept working, too, if Edith hadn't orchestrated this whole thing."
"Yeah. The more I think about it, the more I'm pretty certain that she intended on this reunion happening tonight," she said. "I don't think she's moved on from us."
I shook my head, laughing a bit. "I don't think so, either. She and Paige have never really bonded. And she brings you up like, all the time."
"She doesn't really care about Jesse much, either," she replied. "But it's been a year. She should probably get over it."
"Yeah. There's obviously nothing there anymore," I said, hoping she'd hear the sarcasm. There's still so much there, as demonstrated by the passionate kiss from two minutes ago.
Her smile told me she did.
"I should go," she said. Please no. "Before I do something stupid. Again."
"Kissing me is stupid?" I asked playfully.
"Kissing you is so good that I need to leave now before I do it again."
My heart stopped. She opened the car door, and all I wanted was for her to shut it.
"Gemma," I started in an attempt to stop her. I didn't know what to say to make her stay, though.
She turned to look at me. I couldn't think about anything else but kissing her. The way she looked from my eyes to my lips made me think she felt the same way.
"We really shouldn't," she said, as if she was reading my mind. She has that ability, sometimes.
"We already did."
"We shouldn't do it again, Shawn."
"What's the difference, really?"
"It's just the principle."
"Well, I won't tell if you don't."
She bit her lip, seemingly debating it in her head.
"Okay," she breathed, as if she had been waiting for that.
She shut the door again and I kissed her as soon as she turned towards me again. It escalated much faster than the first one; it was like someone lit us on fire. She hummed against my lips when I pulled her a little closer. I longed to pull her into my lap, to get closer to her, to touch more of her, but I reminded myself that I couldn't let this go too far. She wouldn't want it, anyway. Besides, I'm perfectly content with this moment. This is good. This is amazing.
I detached my lips from hers and trailed my mouth over her jaw, down her neck, to her collarbone. She tilted her head back a little and let out a soft moan, and I almost lost it.
I wanted to kiss every inch of her, to mark it as mine, to take it back from Jesse fucking Cooper. She was mine first and she's still mine. This is still ours.
I put my lips on hers again, and she received me enthusiastically, like I was an ice cold glass of water on a hot summer day. She raked her fingers through my hair, putting more and more into the kiss. Paige has never kissed me like this. Like she would die if she had to stop.
I let my hand slide down from her waist to her thigh, and then slid it underneath her skirt a bit. To a respectful degree. She tensed up a bit, and her mouth lingered on mine, as if she had lost her place in our kiss. Like I'd paralyzed her for a moment. I wonder how Jesse touches her, and if she likes it more than how I did.
But then our eyes met again, and we held our gaze for just a moment before she kissed me again, sending a surge of pride through me. The feeling of her making the first move is like a high.
Then her lips left mine, and I came right back down.
"Okay, we have to stop," she said, her hand still on my shoulder and my hand still on her thigh. Our faces were still close, though, so I kissed her again, a long and slow final kiss, and she melted back into me. I knew we couldn't do this all night, but I needed just one more.
When that was over, we just looked at each other, and her face turned bright red. She quickly moved all the way back into her seat, as if she needed as much distance from me as possible.
"As much as I want to continue," she said, which made me feel good, "I feel like with our luck, Edith will arrive home just in time to see us...doing something, and then it won't be our little secret anymore."
I nodded. Sensible, that Gemma Clark.
I want to carry her into that house and take her on the couch. Actually, I think the back of the car wouldn't be that uncomfortable.
"She cannot know," I said. "She'll meddle even more."
Gemma laughed, running her fingers through her now messy hair. She is going to be the death of me. "Exactly. This stays between you and me."
"Agreed," I said. "Pinky swear?"
She rolled her eyes. "Fine."
We linked pinkies.
"You can't tell anyone," she said firmly. "Not even Connor."
"Yeah, I understand what a secret is, Gemma," I replied with a grin. I couldn't stop smiling. How lame.
She opened the door again and I knew I couldn't stop her this time. We really can't have Edith seeing us.
She started to get out.
"Hey," I said. She turned around to look at me.
"Am I ever going to see you again?" I asked. I don't even know how we would see each other again, or in what capacity but I know that I wanted to. I don't want her to walk away tonight just for me to not see her for another year.
"Depends," she said. "Are you ever going to stop kissing me when I have a boyfriend?"
I grinned. This is the second time, which seems like too many. Maybe we both really are bad people.
Or, maybe you're good people who belong together and all these other people keep getting in the way.
I'd consider that a possibility.
"I can't make any promises, Clark," I replied.
She laughed a little. "Goodnight, Shawn. I'm really glad I got to see you tonight."
Okay, so I guess she's not going to actually answer my question about seeing her again. I guess she doesn't really know, either. I wonder what she wants, though. Maybe she hopes to never see me again. Probably.
"Night, Gem," I replied. "I'm really glad I got to see you, too."
She smiled again, and I had to smile, too.
Why am I so giddy?
She got out of the car and shut the door, which felt so final. Like she's never getting back in.
I stayed in the driveway to make sure she got inside, and she dug around for the key in her purse. When she found it, she fumbled with it. She looked over towards me, as if to see if I was watching, and when our eyes met, she quickly turned away. Then she dropped the key. I had to laugh. Do I fluster her the way she flusters me?
She looked at me one last time before going inside. I felt like someone was stabbing a knife through my heart when the door closed and she disappeared inside.
Fuck.
I think I'm still in love with Gemma Clark.
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gemma <<<
So much for closure.
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OH MY GOSH. i've been waiting write this chapter for so long. i'm so glad it happened. i hope you all liked it :) i went back and forth on it because i couldn't decide if i hated it or not, but i think it turned out alright. let me know your thoughts on everything that happened!!!
ahhh what should happen next? tbh i don't even know so let me know what suggestions you have lol
➡️ what are y'all listening to??
i'm obsessed with easy by troye sivan, save myself by ashe, anyone else by joshua bassett, and supercuts by jeremy zucker!!
okay thank you so so much for reading!!! stay tuned for the next update <3
xx-maggie