Page 17 of Freak

GEMMA

“Marriage?!” I asked far too loudly, my heels skidding on ice as Dana held on tighter, her blonde pinned back waves bouncing.

“Ring. On. The. Finger.” She snapped with each word, the noise muted by her leather gloves. “Don’t get me wrong… it’ll be complicated I’m sure, but men will one hundred percent fight over you.”

“Yeah, right!”

“I’m serious. They will! You’re a complex girl, Gem, with a complex future. And trust me, I knooooow these things.” She slurred her last line, her large, brown eyes catching every glowing dot of Christmas lights hung along the brownstones, and woody Irish pubs.

Dana Myers was not only my roommate at FIT, but she was also a self-proclaimed cupid in the making.

As if being born on Valentine’s Day wasn’t enough, Dana’s ego was bolstered by the successful pairing of fifteen different couples in her short lifetime; three from when she was in middle school, eight from high school, and the other four from our time at the Fashion Institute of Technology.

“You’ll be married long before you hit your thirties.”

“That’s not far off!” I squeaked, holding in a burp that tasted like orange juice and grenadine.

Dana’s head bobbed into mine, drunk. “You’ll see.

It’ll be perfect. The man will be tall. Handsome.

He’ll have money and charm. He’ll push you out of your comfort zone, but also, challenge everything you ever believed about love.

” Dana squeezed my arm tighter, “This man will accept you for who you are, and for who you’ll become…

because when you look at him, not only will you see yourself, but you’ll see your future—which will be the best version of you possible.

” Dana carried the cadence of an angel, mixed with a carnival barker.

She was selling me on an idea, a promise of what could be possible.

Could all that really be true for me? I wanted to believe her, and whether or not Dana could really predict the future, I appreciated her effort.

It was a much kinder and more insightful version than what Claire, my mother, ever gave me.

I tried not to think of her—alone in Bushwick, stewing by the phone, waiting to call me before the New Year’s countdown to warn me about the terrors of kissing a guy who’d eventually break my heart.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle that call tonight, let alone her repeated stories of my father and their mess of a marriage. Her dark, dark history sat buried in my stomach, piled on by shots of tequila I forcibly drank because of her inevitable phone call.

However, Claire wasn’t the only reason I’d been drinking tonight.

There was something else.

I had a huge decision to make by tomorrow morning, one that’d change my life in a significant way.

“Do you think David could be the one?” I asked Dana, who smiled happily for no reason, until I brought up his name.

“Ew! No,” she recoiled with a sour face.

Dana had never been a fan of David. They met just a few months ago, but all it took for her to dislike him was a sweaty handshake. Dana claimed to be spiritually connected, feeling some off vibes about him, but he’d been nothing short of a gentleman around me.

“No?” I asked. “What do you mean? And don’t bring up his aftershave again. It smells nice… when it’s not so strong.”

“I don’t know, Gem, he doesn’t give off soulmate vibes. You two aren’t really a match.”

“You’re gonna have to start liking him, he’ll be around us more.”

“Oh, god, please don’t tell me?—”

“If we got married, you and I would have the same last name,” I laughed, cutting her off to avoid an incoming insult, “We could be sisters!”

“We’re not even related! There’s lots of people with the last name Myers, and he so happens to be giving the rest of us a bad rep.”

“Look,” I lifted my thumb up, counting out a list of pros, “He’s already graduated, he’s got money. He’s got charm?—”

“He texts in all caps,” Dana cut me off.

“Every conversation we have comes back to bitcoin, and that’s not even the worst part…

” I rolled my eyes, I had a feeling I knew what she was about to say, but kept my mouth shut, because I couldn’t exactly defend David on this one.

“This man-child ordered a glass of milk with his filet last week at Del Frisco’s. ”

Yup… let’s gloss over that fact.

“He’s an accountant! David’s good with money, and compared to many of his colleagues, he’s still got a great set of hair. Plus, he’s the one that snuck us into the bar tonight… well, snuck you into the bar,” I argued, scrunching at the snow flurries that tapped my nose.

Dana hated being the only one under the drinking age, but she wasn’t far behind. She didn’t mind the favor, but she knew David was just trying to butter her up.

“If I have to like the guy, then whatever, but I need to ask you a super important question…”

“Here we go.”

“I’m serious, Gem! Humor me for a sec.”

“Fine,” I waved, still following one foot in front of the other on the semi-icy pavement.

“Does he make you come?” Dana asked.

“What?!” I stammered, shrugging, “We’re doing ok in that department. Don’t worry about that.”

It wasn’t a detailed conversation I wanted to have while walking in front of the boys—none of whom were David.

I tried to keep my voice down, not wanting them to hear…

this was especially true for the man directly behind me, whose name I didn’t even want to think about because it made me smile like an idiot.

If Dana even noticed the difference in my expression, she’d call me out on it.

“What do you mean, ‘ ok in that department ’?” Dana’s ew voice came back. “It’s sex, Gemma, not a sector in the corporate ladder. The man you’re meant to be with will rock your socks… and your box,” she said crudely, laughing.

“We’re doing okay in bed, the sex is truly just fine. You know orgasms aren’t my speciality, unless I’m by myself. Besides, these things take time, and time is what we’ll have soon… once-we-move-in-together-next-month,” I spat out as fast as possible.

Dana hated the idea, and she knew David wasn’t the one, her eyes darting over her shoulder to the tallest, most athletic, track star in all of Columbia University—as if he were the only right choice for me.

Not only was he the complete opposite of David, but he was my childhood best friend since first grade—an all star law student and legal savant whose eyes had been pinned to the back of my head since the moment we left the bar that David snuck us into.

It was Parker Ellis Jones .

The boy I grew up with.

The boy I dreamed of having… since… well… since dreams of mine ever existed—and my god did I fucking actually dream of him.

I glanced over my shoulder, still stumbling, catching his unbroken attention—his emerald glossy eyes rapturing my heart into a —oh my god I’ve been caught —racing pulse. Damnit, I was thinking of him again and I had that stupid, idiotic smile on my face. Dana saw it and grinned.

“You’re not supposed to be Gemma. Rose. Harrison-Myers… you’re supposed to be Gemma. Rose. Harrison- Jones —world’s most famous fashion designer.”

“Oh-my-god-Dana!” I screeched quickly, mortified by how she unabashedly attached Parker’s last name to mine.

“You’re only with David because he has hair like Parker… and that’s only on his good hair days , mind you,” she argued. “You and Parker are end game. You two are Monica and Chandler, Jim and Pam, Robin and Barney.”

“Try Bert and Ernie,” I stopped her. “Strictly platonic…” I batted my eyes, unwilling to accept any other truth at the moment.

Parker was my entire world, had been since the field trip to the Majestic Theatre where we first met, and there was so much history compacted into our tiny existence, that even the thought of telling him how I felt became the most untouchable topic in my head.

Don’t go there.

Don’t chance it .

I could live with not telling Parker about how I felt, but I couldn’t live with potentially losing him over my—most likely unreciprocated—feelings.

“Bert and Ernie are totally not platonic… even I knew that as a child. Besides, Parker is totally into you.”

“Into me being his best friend. That’s all we’ve been,” I stood my ground, trudging past tossed out Christmas trees and crinkled flyers for the Times Square ball drop party tonight.

“He’s the one. Not David,” Dana said.

“No. Also. I couldn’t even try and chance that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too risky,” I shook my head.

“Riskier than moving in with Mr. Milk For Dinner?”

“I just have a very complicated stance on love.” I wasn’t willing to go into the depths of my reasons, or how they were tied to my mother, who essentially terrified me from ever getting too close to others.

No one knew about her mantra’s; her warnings, the late nights and terrible days in a manic depressive spiral about how my father leaving us ruined our lives—my life.

I couldn’t explain to Dana what that felt like, how even the thought of my mother made my throat swell with anxiety.

“We need a vote,” Dana declared. “How does everyone feel about David?” she turned to ask Parker, spinning me free.

My legs gave out, my heels slipping on ice as I fell backwards, screaming into the air before slamming onto the freezing pavement.

But that didn’t happen.

My legs left the floor, and my body floated into the heat of two strong arms.

“Gotcha, Butterfly.” Parker didn’t break his pace, his unbendable, deep voice soothed me with a dimpled smirk that I instantly wanted to kiss. Craved to kiss.

“Spinning out like fucking Tanya Harding.” Tommy—Parker’s closest frat brother, and universally loved smart ass—blew into his hands, keeping them warm. His eyes were about as glossy and red as hard cherry candies. “You almost killed her, Dana. And you call me a klutz.”

“I never called you a klutz, you jerk! I’ve called you a lot of things?—”

“Please, don’t list them—” Tommy shot back.