Page 8 of Break Point
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, hugging one of the throw pillows as I sit down. “Did you go under the knife or not?”
“We’re seventeen!” she says with a scoffing laugh. “I would never!”
I lift a brow at her because I know damn well she would.
“Okay, okay. I would. But these babies are all mine, I swear. They just … blossomed.”
Blossomed, indeed. You can’t miss them. They stand out too much from her petite frame, but she looks great.
Gemma starts pulling stuff from her bag and places everything on the large coffee table: face masks, a million shades of nail polish, cotton rounds, hand towels, nail files, and a large cucumber.
“What’s all this?”
“Spa day, of course.” She wiggles her brows.
Of course.
“I’m going to grab some water for you to sink your toes in for a while. We have to soften those calluses. And before you start complaining, the cucumber’s mine. I know you’ll need your eyes if you’re going to torture yourself going over yesterday’s tape.”
I’m about to complain about how my feet are callus-free and perfectly fine when the doorbell rings.
“Who’s that?” a wide-eyed Gemma asks, her voice pitching as she stops cold on her way to the kitchen.
“It’s Liam,” I reply, standing up. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you he was coming, but I haven’t seen him in a while and?—”
“Oh, okay,” she says, relieved. “We can hang.”
I open the door as Gemma fills the small foot tub she brought for the pedicures. Liam looks so handsome, and he smells even better. His eyes perfectly match his sun-kissed, light-brown hair, which is impeccably styled. And those long, full, and curved eyelashes melt me every time I see him.
“Ah! You look lovely,” Liam says in that cute accent of his, kissing my lips afterward. “I brought pepperoni pizza as promised.” He hands me a new purple notebook with a matching pen. “Hey, Gemma.”
Liam is the sweetest. His mother is from London, and his father is Australian. He grew up in Sydney and spent a lot of time at Bondi Beach, where he picked up those surfer-boy vibes.
Gemma greets Liam as he sets the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter. He looks like he’s going on a date at a fancy restaurant. I’m already feeling self-conscious about dressing down around these two.
Instinctively, I glance down at my clothes, but he catches on and grasps my arm, pulling me in.
“You look beautiful. And I am definitely into those socks.”
“Well, it’s best if you take them off,dearie,”Gemma says with a surprisingly well-executed British accent, “because your feet are mine today.”
Liam raises a brow at me.
“It’s spa day,” I explain.
“Thought it was tape night.”
“It will be, once spa day is over.”
“Well, in that case, I’d like something for my face if you wouldn’t mind, Gemma.” He grabs my hand and guides me to the living room. “I have a photoshoot tomorrow. So I could use the extra plumpness and hydration.
He laughs.
“You’re in luck because she brought a bunch of things to choose from,” I whisper.
Gemma’s back in the living room, placing the mini tub on the floor and peppering Liam with questions. “What’s the photo shoot for? Is it for a magazine or …?”
“No. It’s for a movie poster of a project coming out next year,” he explains, browsing through the different face masks. I laugh because he seems more into it than I am.
