“So?”

I glance at Gemma. She’s standing over a pan on the stove, staring at me expectantly as she twirls a spatula in her hand. A bowl of pancake batter sits on the counter.

On the other, less productive hand, I’m sitting on the couch and refreshing my email every ten minutes or so. An assignment had been due last night at 11:59 PM, and I’d completely forgotten about it after lunch with Brandon and only remembered just now. The folder to submit the assignment is already closed, so all I can do is hope my professor will reopen it for me.

“Do I get some of those?” I ask as the smell of frying batter makes my stomach gurgle appreciatively, looking for a distraction from the screen.

“If you answer my questions. No, don’t argue,” Gemma orders. “We haven’t talked about this yet and I just finished my tv show.”

I flop down on the couch and shake my head. “What does that have to do with anything?” I snap. Manipulative little—

“I need a new drama, of course.” She grins and flips a pancake.

I sigh theatrically, but really, I’m glad she’s pressing me. “Fine.”

“So, you had sex with him.”

“No,” I say immediately, unable to stop myself from sounding sharply defensive.

She puts her hand on her hip and pursed her lips. “Girl, I saw that tear up the back of your skirt when you walked through here the other night. Don’t play games with me!”

“We didn’t! Well, sort of. A truck doesn’t have a whole lot of room for sex.” No. I will not blush.

“Oooh getting freaky in a truuuuckk!” Gemma singsongs at me. “Damn, girl. If I’d known you wanted to bring your man back with you, I could have found somewhere else to be that night. Given you two your privacy.”

Gemma does this thing that has irritated me since we met, but she doesn’t do it often enough to justify really being angry about it. She winks, but not like a normal person—she winks with her voice. I don’t know how, but sometimes, when she talks, I can actually hear her winking.

She’s doing it right now, and there’s no reason. She's not even subtle.

Instead of being angry about it, I sigh. “Mature, Gemma. I didn’t know it was going to happen, okay?”

“Mhm. Anyway, give me details. Did you go on a date?”

“I have no idea,” I say honestly, giving her the same answer I’ve given myself many times over the past couple days. “I can’t decide if Brandon was going out for drinks anyway and just happened to invite me along because I was running late, or if he was asking me out. We even went out for lunch yesterday and I meant to bring it up somehow, but we spent so long talking about everything else that he had to get back to work before I could.”

“That’s the kind of thing where you drop a clever little bit of conversation to find out without asking outright.” Pans clank in the kitchen and Gemma walks into the living room balancing the plate of pancakes, two more plates, butter, and syrup. “Also, that almost sounds like two dates.”

“You forgot forks.” I get up to fetch them. “And I know. It’s like I lose my mind whenever Brandon is around.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of losing your mind, Taylor.” Gemma gestures at me with two pancakes as I return.

“Or I lost it when I first saw Brandon,” I mutter, stabbing a pancake.

“Don’t take your anger out on my pancakes. What’s wrong with you all of a sudden? Did Brandon do something?”

“No, no,” I hasten to reassure her. “I just….” The email I drafted yesterday to ask for an extension to turn in homework scrolls through my mind. How had I forgotten to do such a simple assignment? “He’s a distraction, Gemma. A really distracting distraction. I already lost one job. What am I supposed to do if I lose this one?”

“You won’t.” Gemma’s voice rings with conviction. “You’re good at this, and you spend too much time already studying. You won’t give yourself breaks. Brandon is a welcome distraction, not a ‘distracting’ one.” She grins as she repeats the words.

“But I don’t need a distraction of any kind!” I insist firmly. “That’s one of the few things in life I don’t need.”

“Must I use Cullen and me as an example again?” She sighs as I shake my head stubbornly. “Look, just listen.”

I quirk an eye at her and she rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Every time I was around Cullen at first, it was like I was getting a little taste. He’d touch me to show me how to make a dance move right, or he’d brush his hand against mine when he handed me something—things like that. It drove me crazy because I was so close to him, but not really with him.

“No, shut up, I’m not finished,” she silences me as I try to interrupt. “Then, neither of us could take it anymore one night at House of Stars. We—uh—used the screen room—” Now she’s the one blushing, but she’s not trying to hide it. “Anyway, it was really, really good. Not just the sex, but being that close to Cullen, finally, after so much skirting around our feelings.”

“And your point is…?” Actually, I think I understand her point just fine, but I don’t feel like giving her the satisfaction of knowing that her storytelling skills are decent.

“I wanted so badly to be closer to him that I couldn’t take my eyes off him or think about anything else.” Gemma smiles that dreamy smile that only romance can bring out. “You don’t see us all over each other at the club, do you? Before I knew I could be with Cullen, being around him was all I could think about. Now, I know he’s mine and I’m his and I can concentrate on becoming a Star.”

Gemma’s mention of Stars does nothing to better my mood. I shrug, knowing that if I say something now it’ll come out snappish.

“You’re overthinking,” she says quickly, seeing the look on my face. “When Cullen and I finally got together, all these things we thought were problems just… went away, or weren’t really problems to begin with. You got a taste of Brandon - quite literally it sounds like... You haven’t even tried to see what life will be like when you’re with him.”

“Really busy, that’s what it’ll be like. You and Cullen see each other every day at the club. That’s not going to change. But Brandon doesn’t work for Cullen. He’s just a contractor. How would things be when I couldn’t see him every day? Men have the attention spans of earthworms. A girl leaves their sight for a day, and they’re hitting on the next one that walks by.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it. Not all men are like that.” She shakes her head, serious for once. “I can’t believe I’m arguing for a man I’ve never met, but seriously. Don’t let thinking that things won’t work keep you from trying first.”

“I am trying,” I protest. “I’ve been getting to know him like you said.”

“And? Are you liking what you’re finding?”

“So far.” Before triumph suffuses Gemma’s face, I add, “But he doesn’t want to open up to me. I knew him, and now I know him, but I don’t know what happened in between. It isn’t as easy as just letting go of who Brandon used to be.”

Gemma stands up. “We need to get ready to leave.” She turns back as she reaches her door. “Just don’t decide who Brandon is on your own. Let him show you.”

There’s another thing about Gemma that’s up there with voice-winking. She hates to lose arguments and she knows I’ll throw logic at her until the end of time, so she’ll say something cryptic or oddly insightful and just disappear.

Whatever. I actually do need to get ready to leave.

The shower sends warm, calming streams of water down my body. I rub soap into my skin, closing my eyes, and suddenly I’m with Brandon. He’s running his hands over me, his touch gradually moving lower and lower—

Snatching my own hands away from myself, I grab the shampoo with a sigh, half of annoyance and half of longing. Gemma is right. That night in his truck isn’t enough—I want more. More of Brandon.