Save the Date!, page 9
Chapter 18
"So tell me," Dixon said as he followed Gemma and Gillian into the stadium stands. "What do you two know about real, American football?"
Players were practicing on the field already. It was easy to spot Troy due to his height and his spiral throws.
"What do we know?" Gemma said sharply, taking a seat on one side of Dixon while Gillian took the other side of him. "Besides the fact that it’s, like, the second greatest sport in the entire world?"
"Second?" Dixon murmured dryly.
“I prefer football,” Gemma said, shrugging her shoulders. “You know, real football.”
"Hello!" Gillian exclaimed before her face turned mischievous. "It's the only sport where men are wearing tight pants, although wrestling and any water sport do the job just as well. And baseball."
"My God," Dixon said. "It's like the only time you sound smart is when you're objectifying men."
"Why shouldn't I?" Gillian asked, arching a brow. "Men objectify me all the time. And don't even get me started on what they say about Gemma."
Dixon's brows perked up in surprise and he turned over to Gemma in hopes to garner some sort of explanation, but her strategically placed hair was currently masking her face. Though, he was certain, Gemma's face would no doubt be masked in crimson. His lips quirked up and he nudged her playfully.
"So you like this game?" he asked her, gesturing back at the field. "What’s the point of it, then? Since you know so much."
Gemma glanced over at him and smiled. "Sure," she murmured. "Okay, basically you have two teams, both trying to score. When they do, that's a touchdown, which garners six points. Afterwards, they usually kick a field goal which gets one point. However, they could choose to rush it and that gets the team three points."
"It's a very violent sport," Gillian pointed out before another grin broke across her face. "And that's why I love it. Oh my God, when those guys are tackling each other to the ground, I just want to rip my clothes off and join them." When she realized both Gemma and Dixon were staring at her, she cut herself off and cleared her throat. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Gems. I've had to endure far worse from your lips. Remember when we saw Gerard Butler at Starbucks a couple of years ago, and you kept screaming that you were finally legal?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Gemma replied, trying to keep a straight face.
Gillian rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said. "You may not admit it, but I know." She paused and then gave Dixon a long, side glance. "You know, Code Blue, I'm getting used to you being around. I mean, that doesn't mean I'm going to go out of my way to, you know, like you or whatever, but you seem to make Gemma happy, and if you make her happy, then you're all right by me. Let's be honest." She leaned towards Dixon almost conspiratorially. "I see the way she looks at you, and I can tell she really cares about you. So don't hurt her. Or I swear, I'll kick your ass."
Dixon smiled at Gillian's protectiveness, but her words caught him slightly off guard. Could Gillian really tell that Gemma cared about him? Did Gemma actually care about him in that way?
"Does this mean you're going to stop calling me Code Blue?" Dixon asked, choosing conversation as a means to distract himself from his inside thought.
Gemma laughed in disbelief at the notion, and Gillian shook her head. "Not even close, bucko," she told him. "Think of it as a term of endearment, like babe, or honey."
"Aren't you mad at her for having one of those?" Dixon asked, turning to face Gemma. He stopped short when he saw the look in her eyes, complete and utter happiness sparkling through as she gazed upon him. It caused him to get nervous, and Dixon was rarely ever nervous.
"Gillian can call you whatever she wants," Gemma said with a dismissing flick of her wrist. "As long as I get to call you mine." She slipped her arm through Dixon's and leaned her head on his shoulder, ignoring Gillian's taunts at the gooiness of the situation. Dixon knew it was all part of the plan, all part of the façade, but for some reason, it felt… right.
If he was capable of blushing, he probably would have. However, it would seem the man did not have that ability; either that, or he was quite good at hiding it. Instead, he felt himself straighten up. "I think I am going to get some refreshments," he announced. "Would anyone like anything?"
"Yeah," Gemma murmured, glancing over at her faux fiancé. "Could you please get me some water and a churro?"
Dixon nodded, standing up, before looking at Gillian. She looked coy, an enigmatic sparkle littering her eyes. "Can you get me a hot dog, a large coke, and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups?" she asked before smiling innocently.
"Do you want anything else?" Dixon asked dryly, arching a brow.
"Not yet," Gemma said, shaking her head. "But if I do, I'll let you know when you get back."
Dixon rolled his eyes and headed out of the stands leaving the two women alone.
"Okay," Gillian said, placing her purse down and scooting over the stands in order to sit closer to her friend while also keeping a spot open for Dixon. "Now that we're alone, I wanted to talk to you."
Gemma pursed her lips, regarding her friend suspiciously. "What, exactly, do you want to talk about Gillian?" she asked, trying to keep an amused smile off of her lips.
"Sex." Gillian's grin deepened when she saw Gemma's reaction. "I mean," she continued as though it wasn't that big of a deal. "You guys do have it, right? What's it like? Okay, so Dixon's a little older than us, but let's face it; the man is hot, and older can only mean more experienced. And he's not selfish about anything, is he? Code Blue strikes me as the kind of person who would totally get you off before getting himself off, unlike the boys around here." She stopped, suddenly aware of how that came off as. "Not that I would know, of course. I mean, you know boys, right?"
"Do you actually think of Dixon and sex?" Gemma asked, arching a brow.
"He's a hottie, Gems," Gillian replied, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. "How can I not think about the two of you having sex? You're a very sexy couple. So…?" She looked at her friend with eagerness embedded in her eyes. "How is it?"
"Oh Gillian," Gemma said, smiling as she shook her head. "Me and Dixon aren't having sex." Which was the truth. Obviously. "We're saving ourselves for marriage." Which was a downright lie.
"Oh," was Gillian's response, her tone flat and disappointed. She sighed through her nose as her shoulders slouched. "Let me tell you, sweetie, you are wasting a delicious piece of real estate."
"Gillian!" Gemma exclaimed before chuckling a bit. "I thought you didn't even like him!"
"I don't have to like him in order to appreciate how he looks," Gillian said. "Now, you have to tell me all about your wedding night and whether I'm right or not, okay?"
Before Gemma could respond, Dixon came back with a box full of food, most of it for Gillian. When he took his seat in between the women, he dispersed it among themselves before turning to Gemma.
"You know," he said, cocking his head to the side. "I've decided that since you are at a football game with me, I’ll go to a soccer game with you."
Gillian snorted, causing the couple to glance over to you. "Hello!" she exclaimed, her tone almost condescending. "Your fiancée played soccer since she was seven until she was nearly thirteen. She could have played – oh, what's the word – club."
"I never knew that," Dixon said, looking back over at Gemma and feeling slightly impressed at the revelation. "Why did you quit?"
"My parents never watched any of my games," Gemma said, avoiding Dixon's eyes in order to look over at the field. "I was tired of being the only player there without parents watching. And I couldn't join club because they didn't want me to travel. I was good too."
"I'm sure," Dixon said.
At that moment, he too, looked over at the field, and almost simultaneously, he and Gemma caught sight of Troy. However, Troy seemed to only have eyes for Gemma, and from the field he flashed her a charming smile and gave her a wave. Gemma nodded back, and before Dixon could stop himself, his arm was coiled tightly around her shoulders protectively.
It was a warning. Troy had better back off.
Chapter 19
It was a rare occasion when Dixon Black was alone in his newly-acquired room due to the fact that the Harrison family was at some sort of baseball game. Though Dixon had wanted to tag along, he had to catch up on some paperwork at his office, and he was meeting up with his partner to do so. However, when he glanced at the clock, he realized it was only nine o'clock, and since he wasn't planning on going in for another hour, he hung back and decided to look around.
Dixon never had an official tour of the house he was temporarily occupying, and decided to give himself one in order to become more familiar with his surroundings. He knew where everything was in the kitchen thanks to Gemma; she loved to eat, it seemed, and he would sometimes wonder how she managed to keep the weight off. He knew where Gemma's massive DVD collection was, how to work the television, stereo, and the other forms of technology occupying the living room. He knew the downstairs layout like he knew the back of his hand – where his bedroom was and where the restroom was, the garage, the washer and dryer, and everything else.
Instead, he headed over to the staircase and headed upstairs. He would never admit it, of course, but he was supremely interested in Gemma's room and how it would look. The two had spent a little over a month together, and he had still not seen her bedroom. Not that he wanted to in certain contexts; he was a gentleman, after all, but he was curious as to see just how she organized everything. A room revealed a lot about the person who occupied it, and Dixon told himself that once he got a good look at her room and inspected it somewhat thoroughly, his knowledge of the woman he was supposed to be marrying would only increase.
This couldn't be a bad idea. Unless he got caught.
But Dixon was a highly trained CIA agent, and before that, was a remarkable local FBI agent. He was good at not getting caught, and it wasn't likely he would get caught now. They were at a baseball game anyways. It wasn't like the Harrisons’ would suddenly change their mind concerning family tradition and head home.
Right?
Dixon wasn't exactly sure, but he was willing to take a chance.
It was easy to tell which room belonged to his fiancée, not because of his mastery of detective skills but because there were newspaper clippings of Eminem, the rapper, adorning her door, and unless Brent Harrison was a closet hip hop fan, Dixon assumed the room belonged to Gemma.
And he was right.
For whatever reason, Dixon was surprised at just how organized it was. The bed was against the center of the far wall, the colors on it sage green and white. Posters of the rapper and printed pictures of Gerard Butler adorned her walls, plus a Pirates of the Caribbean calendar adjacent to a Dark Knight one. He smiled at this. It was like her to have two calendars hanging in her room when only one was needed. On the adjacent wall was a desk, which overlooked a large window. The window highlighted the beauty of the house's grand backyard, and Dixon was sure it distracted the young woman from doing homework and other menial tasks. There was a walk-in closet that Dixon decided to avoid and two nightstands on either side of the bed. The last thing he noticed was the bulletin board hanging on the opposite wall of the bed, next to the door.
There was nothing written on the board, though he knew her parents used it as a form of communication, but there was a picture in the left corner of it, hung up by a tack. It looked as though it had been there for a while, and Dixon soon realized why. It was of Gemma and Gillian, no older than five or six, dressed up. They were in a parking lot of some sort. Judging from the background, he assumed they were in front of the elementary school they went to together; it must have been their first day of first grade. Gillian had frizzy red hair while Gemma had big buck teeth. It was cute to see such a picture, and for whatever reason, Dixon was glad to see that Gemma kept such mementos.
He glanced at the clock on her wall and realized he had spent too much time studying her room, so he quickly headed back downstairs and into his room before throwing a nice suit on. With that, he headed to his car and drove into work, making it to the CIA building a few minutes after ten. If he didn’t have to worry about his appearance, he’d have taken his motorcycle.
Harvey was already there waiting for him in the office the two agents shared. There was a cup of coffee from Starbucks sitting on the corner of Dixon's desk, waiting to be devoured, and Dixon did not hesitate to do just that. He hoped the caffeine would somehow distract him from the thoughts he wasn't quite ready to think on.
"How is everything?" Harvey asked, straightening his back. He watched Dixon sit at his desk, opposite of Harvey, and grinned upon seeing his partner drink a large gulp of the hot liquid. "You know, the whole marriage deal." He gave Dixon a smirk, teasing the southerner.
"Actually," Dixon said once he had placed the cup back down on the desk. He leaned back, cupping the back of his head with the palms of his hands. "It's not as bad I originally thought it was going to be."
"Oh?" Harvey asked, slightly intrigued as he pushed his brow up. "So the cold, calculating Dixon Black actually has a heart? I must say, Black, I am surprised. I thought the reason you were so good at your job is because you just didn't care about anything except it."
"Yeah, well that's what I thought when I first got recruited to join the FBI," he said, running his fingers through his hair before replacing his hand against the back of his head. "But the whole concept, I've found, is wrong. You care about how to get the job done, how to affect as little people as possible. And, don't get me wrong; the job is important, but…" Here, an image of Eva flashed into his mind, but oddly enough, there was no pain accompanying it. "You have to have outside focus because if not, the job will drive you insane."
"Huh," Harvey said, his index finger occupying the majority of his chin. "You know I never thought about it that way. But I want to ask a question; does Gemma Harrison constitute as part of the job or is she an outside focus. Or," – his eyes flashed when he had an epiphany – "is it both? Can it be both?"
"Gemma is part of the job," Dixon said with a curt nod.
Harvey's eyes were sharp. "I don't believe you," he said with a wicked grin. "How long have we been working together, buddy? You should know I can read you like a book. It seems to me that there's something more going on here, but I don't know what it is." His mouth dropped. "Are you having feelings that may not be entirely professional?" Though his tone was jesting, Harvey couldn't hide his curiosity.
Dixon opened his mouth to refute his friend's claim, but for whatever reason, he hesitated. In that second, Harvey jumped up and pointed an accusing finger at him.
"Oh," he murmured. "You're in trouble."
"It's not like that!" Dixon quickly exclaimed. "I mean, I haven’t crossed any line, but she's just…" He let his voice trail off before tilting his head slightly to the side. "She's just different from what I expected."
"Do you want me to take over for you?" Harvey asked seriously, his eyes locked with Dixon's. "I mean, just to make sure that if something does happen, it wouldn't be unprofessional in any way?"
Dixon shook his head but smiled at his friend's consideration. "I'll be okay," he said. "Thank you, though. Plus, the invitations have already gone out and the announcement was in the engagement section of the paper a couple of weeks ago." He shook his head, his copper hair getting even more tousled. "No. Of course I won't do anything unprofessional. Maybe it's just being around her all of this time that caused me to develop some sort of infatuation for her. Nothing serious."
Harvey rolled his eyes. "Yeah right," he muttered. "That's what they all say." He straightened up and pointed a warning finger in Dixon's direction. "You had better be careful, buddy. I see the look on your face right now and it spells trouble. Now I don't want to be the guy covering for you when you're sneaking off to have dates with her."
"It's just an infatuation," Dixon murmured, though there wasn't much conviction in his voice.
"I know, and that's fine," Harvey said. "But make sure it stays that way lest you're looking for some sort of ass whipping."
Chapter 20
It was Saturday and there was the biggest, tallest cake Gemma had ever seen in person. She was standing in the kitchen, her hands on her hips, and her head cocked to the side. She had an enigmatic expression on her face, staring at the edible thing sitting on the dining table, her lips pursed.
Dixon walked in the kitchen from the entrance opposite of Gemma and upon seeing the look on Gemma's face, his lips quirked up. She looked as though she was just about to head out to the battlefield, weapon in hand, but unsure of how to interpret her situation. He could even detect a glimmer of worry in her brown eyes as she took in the sight of the cake.
"What's the matter, princess?" he asked, walking over in her direction.
Gemma's face turned dry as she regarded the man in front of her. "Don't call me that," she murmured before shifting her attention back on the cake.
"Why not?" Dixon asked, feigning confusion. "As a couple who is getting married in a manner of weeks shouldn't we have terms of endearment for each other? I mean, you call me Code Blue."
"Code Blue is a codename, not a term of endearment," Gemma hastily corrected, glancing up at him. Her eyes were sharp. At least looking at him would prevent her from staring at that thing in front of her.
"So what would you call me?" Dixon asked, perking his brow, indicating that he was curious about the answer. "If we were really getting married, what would you call me?"
Gemma looked away, a light blush tickling the tops of her cheeks. "Well," she began, but faltered. She reached up and scratched the back of head, trying to buy time. "I've never really thought about it. I kind of like babe, but depending on how it's said, it could be cold and possessive. Not that being possessive is too much of a bad thing, but there's a time and a place for it, you know?" Shit. She was rambling. Why was she nervous anyways? "I don't know about honey or hon, but I guess it depends too. I mean, to me, the word seems warm, like it gives out warmth…" She let her voice trail off before dropping her head into her hands. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "I think that terms of endearment should come naturally. I don't think they should be assigned."
