Page 121 of Break Point
“We … did.” She rests her hands on her thighs and stares down at my suitcase. “Anything else you need to add before I zip this one up?”
I shake my head.
“That’s all of it.”
Gemma leans in, closes the suitcase, and pulls the zipper shut. She sticks the levers on the lock and scrambles the numbers.
“Wait, what’s my number code again?”
“It’s 228 for the black one,” Gemma replies, pointing at it. “And 226 for the brown one.”
Right.
Gemma pulls the suitcase upright and rolls it next to the other one, aligning them perfectly side by side. She grabs my tennis bag and places it on top. She sighs, brings her hands to her hips, lets her head hang for a second, and finally turns around to sit on the bed.
“It was right before I left for the summer in Korea last year,” she finally reveals. “We were at this house party in Montclair. I got bored. He noticed. He sat with me in the living room, and we started talking about your Roland Garros win. About how ridiculously proud it made us feel. We couldn’t shut up about you. Robbie couldn’t shut up about what a badass you are.”
“Robbie said I’m a badass?” I deadpan. “Verbatim?”
Gemma chuckles, but it comes out sad.
“Yes! You dummy! You’re like his idol or something.” She looks down at her hands on her lap and quickly swipes her lower lip with her tongue. “Anyway … he started teasing me, like, ‘Don’t leave me alone for the summer,Cho.’”
I snort out a laugh. “You sound just like him.”
“You know I love a good impression.” She smiles. “And then it just … happened. His lips were on mine, and we were kissing, and before we realized what we’d done, there was no way to take it back. No way to undo it.”
I take a deep breath and keep quiet. It seems like there’s more to this story.
“Jesus, Gemma. All this time … Why didn’t you ever tell me about it?”
“I don’t know. I guess we both brushed it off as a one-time,I’ll-see you-at-the-end-of-the-summertype of thing.” She tucks her freshly cut hair behind her ear. “We never talked about it afterward. We texted here and there when I was in Korea, but it was all just fun, Robbie-style kind of texts, you know? The ones where he sends me jokes or photos of cute dogs he sees on the street because he knows I like them. Just … random, everyday texts.”
I raise my eyebrows because, knowing Robbie, that leans more on the cutesy side of things, and he’s never really been that guy. Sending her photos of dogs for Gemma to squeal over? Come on. He’s infatuated with her at this point. At least, he’s never seemed the type to get that way with girls. Always flirty, but never deep. Always keeping them at arm’s length.
As far as I know.
“What?” Gemma says with a nervous laugh.
“Nothing.” I raise my palms like this is a judgment-free space and I’m just here to listen to her testimony. That’s how it’s always been between us.
“Ilikehim,” she says, her demeanor deflating. “I’ve liked him for years now.” She buries her red face in her hands and throws herself back on the bed. “God, I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
“Oh, Gemms,” I say, resting my back on the bed. I lie next to her. Grab her hand.
We’re both staring at the ceiling in silence. Letting it all sink in. Thekiss. Her confession. The feelings. The way Robbie looks at her. How sad he’s been since Australia.
The meaning behind it all.
“When Henry came out of Zoya’s room saying he was trying to get Robbie out of there … I thought the worst. I was so pissed at him because it made me realize how bad I’ve got it for him. How my feelings for him are stronger than I thought they were. That they’d been suffocated by my insistence on looking the other way. And don’t get me wrong, I was pissed on your behalf, too. That wasn’t a lie. I knew how much it hurt you to realize they were inside her room.”
I squeeze her hand to let her know I got her. That she’s safe in sharing her feelings with me. Even if my dumbass brother is the one responsible for making my best friend feel this wrecked and confused.
“I have a feeling Robbie might not be as unaffected as you think,” I dare to say. “When I was in Miami, he sent me a text to ask me if you were okay because he sent you a meme and you didn’t reply.”
“Ugh.” Gemma laughs. “That was a good one.”
“Then why didn’t you reply?” I turn on my side to face her. She does the same.
