Talk of the Town, page 7
Brew nods. “Oh, I know. You eloping in Vegas is definitely not something I would’ve ever expected from you. Or me, for that matter. Not that I’ve ever really thought about getting married, but still.”
I try to think if Brew and I have, in all our years of friendship, ever talked about marriage. While I’m sure, in the course of our show, it would’ve had to come up at some point, I can’t recall if we’ve ever discussed it when it’s just us. I can’t help but ask, “You didn’t think about marrying Alyssa? Y’all were together for over a year.”
He shakes his head. “No. She doesn’t want kids, so I knew I was just biding my time with her. Honestly, her cheating was probably a blessing. I was comfortable and I think we would’ve broken up way before she did what she did if I hadn’t been.”
“Oh,” is all I can say. I always thought he and Alyssa were happy, but now that I think back on it, he wasn’t as upset as I would’ve expected him to be after finding out his girlfriend cheated.
“What about you and Kyle? Did y’all talk about getting married?” I nod and take a sip of my coffee. His eyes register a bit of surprise and he asks, “Like, in passing, or seriously?”
I don’t want to tell him how seriously Kyle and I discussed getting married or the reasons I broke things off with him. Brew and I are finally talking and it doesn’t feel weird or stilted. I’m enjoying it too much to bring Kyle into it, so I just keep things vague. “Well, we were together for three years, so yeah, it came up. We practically lived together and I’m pretty sure my mom already had a venue booked for sometime next year, despite what she said about her thinking I’d never get married.”
He nods slowly, absorbing my words. “Do you think you would’ve gone through with it if y’all hadn’t broken up?”
“No,” I say without hesitation, and even I’m surprised by my quick answer, although I know exactly why I wouldn’t have ever married Kyle. But I don’t know if I’m ready to get into all that with Brew.
“Really?”
I simply shrug and Brew’s about to say something else when there’s a knock at the door. I almost want to sigh in relief, because it felt like I might have spilled everything to him if he kept pressing and I’m not prepared for that conversation yet.
A woman dressed in what must be the standard staff uniform of linen shorts and a floral-print button-down shirt pushes a cart laden with covered dishes. She smiles and bids us a good day before backing out of the room. Brew rolls the cart closer to the couch and hands over my bloody mary. I take a sip and wince at the sheer volume of vodka.
“Too strong, Pearl?” he asks with a chuckle.
I cough as the liquor burns the back of my throat. “Just a little. Man, a lot of these types of places water down the drinks, but not this one, I guess. I better get some food on my stomach before this drink hits me. What did you order?”
He removes the metal domes over our plates. “I got you French toast with baked apples and bacon.”
I nod appreciatively. “And what did you get for you?”
“Eggs Benedict.”
“Ooh, that sounds good, too. I love eggs Benedict.”
He smiles. “I know. I figured we’d share, like usual.”
I should’ve known. It’s definitely not the first time we’ve ordered separate meals and split them and I don’t know why his consideration and thoughtfulness make me feel different now than it used to, but it does. “Perfect.”
Once breakfast is wrapped up and Brew’s pushed the cart back out the front door, I stand from the sofa and rifle through my suitcase, regretting all the bathing suits I bought. None of them are, in any way, super revealing or anything, but I still might as well go down to the beach in my underwear for all the coverage these small scraps of fabric will give me.
Finally settling on the dark green bikini, I slip into the bathroom to put it on. After I get all the thin shoulder straps adjusted to ensure they won’t slide off my shoulders, I examine my appearance in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. I knew the fit was good since I’d tried it on at the store, but actually wearing this in front of Brew makes something flutter in my belly. I remind myself that he saw me in a thong and tank top the other night and this is covering a lot more of my ass than that thong, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
I feel even more apprehensive when I see the fading bruises from Brew’s bites. They’ve gone more green and yellow, but they’re definitely still very visible. And I’m sure he probably saw the ones on my thighs, but he’s not seen the ones on my stomach or my breasts and there’s a blatant one peeking out from the top of my bikini top. As many times as I’ve seen them since that morning we woke up together, I still can’t help but run my fingers over them and imagine what it was like when I first got them.
I shake the thoughts away and take a deep breath before opening the bathroom door and stepping back into the bedroom. I notice he’s put on some swim trunks and pulled his hair up and taken off his shirt. Brew takes me in and I don’t miss how his eyes widen slightly when they land on the bites. He says something under his breath that sounds an awful lot like sweet Jesus, and I can’t help but smile.
“Was that for the bikini or the bruises?” I hope my voice sounds as playful as I intend, but my pulse ratchets up with his eyes on me.
He huffs a laugh. “Maybe both. Shit, Gem, I’m sorry about all that.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “It’s okay; I’m sure I didn’t mind.”
Brew’s brow tics up and he gives me a lopsided grin. “Still, it’s a lot.”
My cheeks heat as flashes from that night play through my mind again. “I’m pretty sure that entire night was a lot.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment and seems to work through some things in his mind. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, but he just clears his throat. “You ready to go down to the cabana? I’ve got some towels and bottles of water. Do you have sunblock? I wasn’t thinking about needing any, but I don’t get out in the sun a whole lot, so I’ll probably burn.”
I nod. “Yeah, let me grab it out of my suitcase.” I do and then pick my phone up off the bed and fish my sunglasses out of my purse before following him out the sliding glass door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BREWSTER
I should be used to seeing Gemma. Hell, I’ve apparently seen her naked; even though I don’t remember it. But seeing her in that green bikini that makes her hazel eyes pop was nearly enough to end me. Not to mention all those fucking bruises. Faded as they are, they’re there and are further evidence that we’ve had sex.
I honestly don’t know what to think about them because that’s not normally who I am in bed. I might leave a couple on the inside of a thigh when I get a little adventurous, but nothing like that. I can only think that I truly must’ve wanted to leave my mark on her, so to speak. And fuck if it doesn’t turn me on to see them on her. I have to admit, I’ll be a bit disappointed when they’re all gone.
Our cabana is about fifty feet from the water and is a huge cushioned lounger with a dark blue canvas roof and curtains on all sides. One thing about this place, they give you plenty of opportunities for privacy. I hang our towels on the back of the lounger and set our bottles of water on a small table that sits toward the back of the cabana. Gemma tosses her phone on the chair and opens the tube of sunscreen. She slathers it over her face and body and I can only watch her. For some reason, it feels like she’s being more deliberate with her movements and I have no clue how to interpret that.
“Will you do my back?” she asks and gestures to the lotion on the cushion in front of me. I nod and she sits facing the water and I scoot closer to her. I squeeze some into my hands and rub them together before starting at the back of her neck and working over her shoulders and down her back. It should feel strange to be intimate with Gemma like this despite all the time we’ve spent together over the last ten years working together. All the nights we’ve hung out and eaten pizza and watched football or basketball games. All the nights we’ve gone out for drinks after work. All the closeness we’ve shared.
But I’ve never seen her like this. We don’t live anywhere near the beach and I’m not a pool or lake guy, so we’ve never done anything like that together. So rubbing sunscreen on my half-naked, incredibly attractive best friend should make me feel at least a little weird, right? Except, it doesn’t. It just feels… right.
I probably take longer than necessary to get the lotion rubbed in, but Gem doesn’t say anything or move away from my hands, so she must not mind and although I shouldn’t dwell on it, it makes me feel good. After a moment, I realize I’m finished and there’s no way to make it seem like anything less than me just groping her for my own enjoyment to do it any longer.
“All done.”
I squeeze some more lotion into my hands and apply it on my face, chest, stomach, arms and legs. Gemma takes the sunscreen tube into her hand. “Scoot up, I’ll get your back. I don’t want to hear you whine if you get burnt. You’re almost pasty.”
Shaking my head, I can’t help but laugh, even as I switch spots with her. “Sorry, miss I-live-in-the-water. We can’t all be in the pool every single day during the summer. And we can’t all have your Italian heritage to not have to worry about being out in the sun for more than five minutes at a time.”
Her hands slide across my shoulders and down my back and I try to focus on her words and not on the way it feels to have her hands on my body.
“I am not in the water every single day; once a week, at most. But it still wouldn’t kill you to go out and get some color.”
“I get out. I help Law build houses, so I’m outside a lot for that.”
“Yeah, but I know you. You wear long-sleeved shirts and jeans. So the only thing on you that gets any sun is your face and neck. Alright, all done.” She tosses the sunscreen into a small pocket on the side of the lounger and scoots over to let me move back to my original spot. “So, I’m thinking that for today’s post, we do it from here. It will mainly just be our ankles and feet with the backdrop of the water.”
I nod. “Okay, sure. You’re a whole lot better at that stuff than I am, so you just tell me what you want me to do. I’m sure Curtis won’t be happy with anything, so I say we just do what we want.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sounds like he’s only going to be happy if he somehow gets footage of us making out with me topless or something. He acts like we’ve got this huge following he can exploit.”
I try not to think about her topless or us making out, but I’m not very successful. I don’t realize she’s still speaking until she nudges me. “Did you hear what I said?”
“What, sorry.”
She chuckles. “Okay, so I was saying, you should be fine like you are; just stretch out a bit. It doesn’t matter what you do from the knees up, but you just need to look relaxed.”
I nod. “Okay, that’s easy enough. This is pretty relaxing.” She scoots a little closer to me and stretches out and frames the shot of our feet and the water. She doesn’t seem to be able to get the angle she’s searching for and sighs. “What, Gem?”
“It doesn’t look right.” I’m not sure what she means and she must see it, so she snaps a photo and shows me the screen. “It just looks like we’re here. If I post it like this, Curtis is going to bitch, and I’d rather not have to deal with him.”
“Okay, so what do we need to do to get the shot you want?” She bites her lip and looks unsure. “It’s fine, Pearl. What do we need to do? I know you have a specific way you want it to look and you’ll obsess over it if it’s not what you want. It’s truly in my best interest to help you get it so we can actually relax.”
She sighs and scoots even closer to me and turns her body toward mine and pulls my arm up and around her. I try not to react, even though my pulse picks up with her as close as she is and her tits pressing into my side; not to mention my hand resting pretty close to her ass. She tangles our legs up at the ankle and I instantly see what she’s going for. “See, that’s all you had to do, Gem. Now, take your picture.”
She positions her phone and snaps off several shots from multiple angles and I just enjoy the feel of her next to me. “We could go ahead and get one for tomorrow, too.”
I shrug. “Whatever you want.”
“Okay, so since I’m already like this, I thought we’d finally do one of our faces, since we’re kinda close right now.”
I chuckle. “Gem, you don’t have to explain it; just fix me however you need me and we’ll get it done.”
She huffs, sounding a bit frustrated. “It helps me to visualize it if I talk through it. I’m sorry.”
I look down at her, suddenly feeling like a tool. “No, I’m sorry. I know you have to work through stuff like that. I’ll keep my commentary to myself. Explain away.”
She sighs. “Okay, so I figure Curtis will want at least one shot with a ring, right?” I nod, but don’t say anything, because Gemma’s not really talking to me. “So, I’m going to kind of rest my head on your chest and you’ll bring your left hand up to grip my face and kiss the top of my head. Both our faces will be in profile and it’ll look a little more intimate than just your standard straight-on shot.”
Even as she’s describing it, I can visualize it and can tell, from a publicity standpoint, it’ll be perfect. “Damn, Gem. That’s pretty good.”
She smiles. “If nothing else, it’ll get Curtis off our backs for a couple of days.”
I nod. “Alright, pose away.”
She chuckles and takes off her sunglasses and sets them on the other side of the lounger. She shifts to get a bit more comfortable and lays her head on my chest. And now I’m hoping she can’t hear how hard my heart is pounding with her so close to me.
I rest my nose on the top of her head and Gemma pulls my left hand up to her face and I move it to a more natural position, farther back on her cheek. My pinky rests under her jaw and my fingers barely slide into her hair. “Ready?” she asks.
“Sure.” I plant a kiss on the top of her head and just hold it since I know she’ll want to take several shots. I keep my position, but pull her closer with my other arm. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until I’ve already done it, but I notice the way Gemma’s breath catches and I can’t help but smile. “Did you ever think with all those promo photos we’ve had to do for the station over the years we would ever have to do something like this? Gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘work wife’.”
Gemma laughs against my chest and I kiss the top of her head again, but this time, when I do it, I know it’s not for any photo; it’s simply because I want to.
She looks up at me. “Thanks for being a good sport. I know you’re not big on all this publicity stuff.”
I shrug. “It’s probably my fault we’re having to do it anyway, so the least I can do is cooperate with your vision.”
She grins. “We might never know how it happened; not unless that guy from the casino gets you the footage. And even then, it might not explain how we ended up married. It’ll explain how we got the money, but that seems pretty obvious.”
I nod and can’t help but notice that Gemma hasn’t pulled away, even though we’re done with the pictures she wanted to take. My hand is still on her cheek and it would be nothing at all for me to lower my mouth to hers and actually kiss her. Despite how badly I’d love to finally share a kiss that we can both remember, I still don’t want to push too far, too fast. So I already know I won’t.
“You know, my first thought when we got here was that even if we’d planned on getting married and it wasn’t something neither of us remembers, we’d never, in a million years, be able to do something like this for an actual honeymoon.”
Knowing what I remember about our wedding and haven’t told her sends a pang of guilt through me, but I’m just not ready to lay that all out yet. I nod and huff a laugh. “You’re not wrong about that. I’ve gotta say, though, this is pretty nice. You know, as far as crazy Vegas elopements and publicity-seeking honeymoons go.”
“It is. Really nice.” She bites her lip and her eyes travel from mine down to my mouth and I feel her chest expand against mine as she inhales deeply. And then I’m thinking that my thoughts a moment ago about not pushing too fast can shove it, because I’m definitely about to kiss her. My face is lowering to hers and she’s not pulling away. Her eyes even seem to smile as I close the distance between us.
Then it happens.
No, not the kiss. Something else entirely.
Gemma’s phone rings and the sound is shrill and jarring. It breaks the spell of the moment because she scoots away suddenly and picks it up. She looks at the screen and slumps and rolls her eyes, and I know without even having to look at the screen that it’s her brother. She steels herself, much the way she did when she talked to her mother the other day. “Hey, Graham.”
I’ve never wanted to reach through a phone and punch someone more than I have at that moment. I rise from the lounger because I can’t be that close to her right now and think straight. Knowing I don’t have anywhere else to go, I step toward the shore and once I get to the waterline, I just stand in the sand and let the waves crash against my ankles. I think back over the last five minutes to make sure I hadn’t gotten it wrong. Because I was going to kiss Gemma. I was going to kiss my best friend in the entire world and possibly make things even more weird between us. And unless my eyes and brain were totally deceiving me, she was open to it.
It seemed like our conversations today have been more normal; as though we’re getting back to us. If I kiss her, will that go away again? If I take her to bed, will it fuck up our friendship? Is that something I’m willing to risk? In a perfect world, it wouldn’t fuck things up and what happened would be some crazy, romantic story Gemma and I would tell our grandkids when we’re seventy. But this isn’t a perfect world. There are feelings and emotions that are bound to get tangled up if we sleep together when we’re sober and remember it.
