Like This And Like That (16 page)

Read Like This And Like That Online

Authors: Nia Stephens

BOOK: Like This And Like That
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“Your call,” Seth said.
“Thanks. Maria's probably looking for me by now,” Gemma said.
“Okay. See ya,” he said.
“What happened to you?” Maria asked when Gemma found her trying on shoes. A tower of shoeboxes teetered in front of her.
“How pathetic is it to have someone ask you out because they pity you?”
“About as pathetic as taking your sister to the prom.”
“Thought so,” Gemma said. She sank into the seat beside Maria.
 
Later that afternoon, Gemma told her dad that she wanted to head back down to the Y to get some more practice in.
“That's my girl,” her father had said, grinning. “WNBA, here we come!”
At practice, Gemma got her favorite court. She considered herself lucky. Usually on Saturday afternoons there would be a bunch of guys playing a street game of basketball and no way was she about to join in on that. Every once in a while, she and Taylor Collins, J. Marshall's six-foot center, would practice together, but today Gemma felt the need to be alone.
Thirty minutes into her practice, some guy walked onto her court. “I knew you'd be here,” he said.
Even though her eyes were on the basket, she immediately recognized Ethan's voice. Was he as much of a stalker as Angela? They both seemed to show up where they weren't wanted. In fact, since he was here Angela was probably ten minutes behind him.
“Are you following me?” she asked, taking another shot. Swish!
“Actually, I tried calling you.”
“And let me guess, my dad told you I was here.”
“He sure did but that wasn't his fault. I told him I had something important to ask you.”
Gemma lined up and then jogged to the basket to do a lay-up shot.
“I'm impressed. There are not many girls who can do a crossover lay-up,” he said.
Usually that sort of backhanded compliment would get Gemma railing about how girls could play just as well as boys. Today, though, she just ignored him and kept shooting.
“Did I do something wrong?” Ethan asked. “What happened? I thought we were cool.”
“Is that what you thought?” she asked, shooting the ball. This time it was a brick. “Because I thought it was you and Angela that were cool.”
“Huh?”
“I know about you and Angela going to the spring beach party together,” Gemma said, throwing another brick.
“What?” Ethan asked. “Who told you that?”
“It doesn't matter who told me.” Gemma bent her legs, placed her arms over her head and prepared for another shot. “So when did you ask her, before or after we made out?”
“I would like to know who told you because it's not true. Angela did ask me to go and I told her no. Why doesn't anyone believe we are not dating? That is done. And it's been done for a while.”
Gemma turned around. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“So you're not interested in Angela anymore?” Gemma asked.
He laughed and shook his head. “No way. I'm interested in a hot girl named Gemma. In fact, that's why I came to find you. I wanted to ask you to the spring beach party.”
Gemma's heart sped up faster than a speeding locomotive. “I, uh—I—” she stammered.
“You don't have to say yes now if you want time to think about it,” Ethan offered. “I don't want to put you on the spot.”
“Yes!”
Please tell me I didn't just scream that
, Gemma thought.
How completely uncool!
“I mean, sure,” she said, affecting a more casual tone. “I mean, if you don't already have a date for the party. Well, of course you don't have a date. You wouldn't ask me if you did.” The more she talked the worse it became.
Stop me now!
“Okay,” Ethan said. “It's official. The spring beach party it is.”
“Sounds good.” She took a few deep breaths and brought her pulse back to normal. She set up and took another shot. This time it went in.
“Pretty good. You really can play some hoops unlike any other girl I know.”
Gemma laughed. “Any other
girl
or any other player?” Now she was ready to take on that argument.
Ethan dropped his gym bag and nodded down at the ball in her hands. “C'mon, let me see you take it to the hoop.”
Gemma smiled as she lowered herself into attack stance. “Let's go. I'm set.”
 
The End
You chose Christopher
Chapter 4
Surf's Up?
“I
'm so glad you picked Christopher,” Maria declared. Gemma had slept on the decision overnight and called Maria once she had picked a boy. Maria had immediately raced over. Now Gemma sat on her bed petting LeBron, watching Maria gush over Christopher.
“It's the obvious choice.”
“Ya think?” Gemma asked, surprised. She thought Maria would have been shocked that she chose Christopher. She had surprised
herself
with her choice!
“Let me break it down for you.” Maria began to elaborate on her theories about why none of the other boys on the website were right for Gemma but Gemma figured Maria would do the same thing no matter who she chose.
As Gemma listened she realized Maria was more into this than she was! But she supposed that's what friends were for—to drag you kicking and screaming into something you weren't quite sure you wanted to do.
“So that makes him the logical choice: Christopher, the surfer dude.”
“First of all, would you stop calling him the surfer dude? Every time you say that I picture some guy out of an eighties movie that says ‘dude' at the beginning and end of every sentence.”
“I'll try to restrain myself,” Maria said.
“Second of all, you gave a bunch of reasons why I
shouldn't
go out with the other guys but didn't provide one reason why I
should
go out with Christopher.”
“Here's the most important reason,” Maria said, holding up the printout of his picture. “I'm sorry. I thought you already saw this. Dude look good.”
Gemma studied the photo of the gorgeous blond guy with blue eyes. She didn't have a problem with white guys, she just had never thought about actually dating one.
“What about my dad?” she asked.
“What about him?”
“Do you honestly think he wants to see me with some white guy? We're from the hood, remember?”
“You mean your parents are from the hood. You were born and raised in Laguna Beach, so don't even front.”
Gemma couldn't help laughing. “True. But I swear, he always gives me this freaky sideways look whenever I bring home a white guy study partner.”
“Gemma,” Maria said seriously. “Your father gives you a freaky sideways look when you bring a black guy home as a study partner. It's the guy part of the equation that's causing the problem.”
“My point is,” Gemma said, trying again to get Maria to understand, “he is always complaining about working with The Man. What happens when his only daughter brings The Man home?”
“You're bringing home The Man's son,” Maria joked. “Call him The Boy. No wait, in this case, call him The Dude.”
Gemma tossed a pillow at Maria's head. “The Costa Rican hottie has jokes today.”
Maria ducked. “Chill out,” she said, laughing. “You're just going out on a date, not marrying the guy.” She grabbed Gemma's shoulders and gently steered her toward the computer. “Just e-mail him. You already picked him. So go for it.”
“Should I tell him I'm black?” Gemma asked.
“D-uh. I think he can figure that out from your picture.”
“Oh right. Well, here goes nothing.”
 
“Hey, there's my girl,” Gemma's father said when she walked in the front door after walking LeBron. “My
girls
,” he corrected himself when Maria followed Gemma inside.
“What are you doing home?” Gemma asked.
Her father patted her on the shoulder. “I'm surprising your mother and taking her out to dinner tonight. If that's okay with milady, of course.”
“ 'Tis fine with me, milord,” Gemma joked.
“Fine with me, too,” Maria added.
“Oh, before I forget,” her father called as they headed up the stairs, “I won't be able to attend your game next week.”
Gemma stopped and turned to look at him. “Why?” She loved having her dad at the games.
He sighed. “You know I would be if I could. But The Man has got me dealing with some case files that have been backlogged for years. The partners want me to clean up their mess.”
At the phrase
The Man,
Maria and Gemma exchanged a look. Gemma's said
You see?
while Maria's expression said
Don't sweat it.
“Okay,” Gemma said. “But you'd better be at the next one.”
“I promise.”
They hurried into Gemma's room and shut the door. “Why did I let you talk me into e-mailing Christopher?” Gemma said.
“Me? No, chica,” Maria said, waggling a finger in front of Gemma'a face. “You made the decision. I only helped you act on it.”
Gemma had to admit Maria was right—she was the one who had chosen Christopher. There was something about him that intrigued her.
Maria sat at the desk and turned on the computer. “Let's see if he wrote you back yet.”
“I almost hope he didn't,” Gemma confessed.
“I don't see why you're acting all nervous about this. You were fine with it this morning.”
“Yeah, that was before my dad started complaining about The Man again. I told you he—”
Maria squealed, cutting off Gemma. “He wrote you back!”
Gemma hurried over and stood behind Maria, who glanced up at her and asked, “So ... should I open it?”
“Let me.” Gemma switched places with Maria.
“As long as the e-mail doesn't say that he wants to drink your blood for breakfast, then it's all good,” Maria said. “He probably can't wait to meet you!”
Gemma clicked open the e-mail. Despite her concerns, she felt flutters of excitement.
Maria reached over Gemma's shoulder and pointed to the computer screen. “Look, he asked you out! And he gave you his number if you want to talk to him first.”
“Do you think I should?” Gemma asked.
“You bet! Dial!”
On the first ring, Gemma's heart felt like it was about to pound right out of her chest. On the second ring, she became short of breath. On the third, she calmed down. Who let their phone ring three times unless they're not there? She was about to hang up when she heard—
“Hello?”
Gemma's mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. She looked at Maria. With her hand, Maria motioned for her to keep the conversation rolling.
“Uh, hello, Christopher?”
“Yes?”
“Hi, this is Gemma. I e-mailed you this morning and—”
“Oh, hi, Gemma. What great timing. I was just telling a friend about you!”
“Really?” She smiled and nodded at Maria. “And what exactly were you telling your boy about me?” Gemma asked flirtatiously.
“All good. I said how impressed I am with your basketball talents. From your profile it sounds like you've got skills and are passionate about your thing. That's exactly how I feel about surfing. When I get out on the waves, I feel like it's my job to be the best. Sometimes you have a bad day but when you're on—” He hesitated for a minute trying to find the right words. “When you're on, it's all that.”
Gemma nodded in agreement. “I know the feeling. I've never tried surfing but it's just like that with basketball.”
This conversation wasn't at all akin to a root canal, as she had feared. She looked over at Maria again, who was beaming as if she were watching her baby take her first steps.
“I'd love to give you surfing lessons sometime,” Christopher said. “Maybe we could meet up at the beach and I'll introduce you to surfing and then you can school me on some hoops.”
Gemma thought he sounded cute when he said
school me on some hoops
. “That sounds great.”
“How about tomorrow?”
Taken by surprise, all she could do was blurt, “Sure.” As soon as she said yes, she realized she was glad she had. They agreed to a time and a place and hung up.
“Guess who's coming to dinner?” Gemma joked.
“Christopher is coming over for dinner?”
Gemma rolled her eyes. “Hello? It's a joke. Remember the movie with Sidney Poitier when his character started dating the white woman?”
“No.”
“Never mind.”
Maria hopped off the bed. “Anyway, I said you would like him. Was I right or was I right?”
“When you're right, you're right.”
Once Maria went home, Gemma started to feel nervous again about going out with Christopher. Time for more expert advice.
She went downstairs, took a seat at the kitchen table and watched her mom putting the finishing touches on a pie. Using a fork, her mom was making tiny indentations on the outer edges of her piecrust. As her mom sprinkled cinnamon onto the top, Gemma found herself wondering when exactly her mom had become so domesticated. Back in her career days, her mother was a powerhouse professor who was barely home, and certainly spent little time in the kitchen. But now, in a complete one-eighty, her mother seemed to relish all the little details of homemaking. Gemma also found herself wondering about something else. “Mom, have you ever dated a white guy?”
In mid-sprinkle, her mom stopped and slowly turned around. “Where did that come from?”
“Just asking,” Gemma responded.
Her mother turned back around and continued with her sprinkling. “No, I haven't, but I've been good friends with men of all races. In my profession I worked with mostly men and had to get along with them.”
“I just agreed to a date with a white guy,” Gemma blurted.
Her mother kept sprinkling. “Really?”
“Yes,” Gemma said. “How do you think Dad will react?”
Her mother laughed. “The way he would react to you dating any other guy.” She turned to look at Gemma. “Your father doesn't have a problem with Caucasians, he has a problem with intolerance and bad behavior. Whatever the person's race.” Her mother paused a moment and then asked, “Is he a nice boy who will respect you? Because that's the really important criterion. His race isn't the most important thing about him. It's values that count.”
Gemma nodded. “Makes sense.”
Dr. Williams turned back to her pie. “So when are you going to tell him?”
“I don't know,” Gemma said. She came up behind her mother and wrapped her arms around her. “Unless
you
want to tell him for me.”
“No way. I'm out of this one,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, I think it should come from you.”
“You're right. Thanks, Mom,” Gemma said, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek. She headed back upstairs to her room, feeling better about the whole thing.

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