Somewhere in Between (5 page)

The pain and agony in her voice made tears form in his eyes. He couldn't handle seeing her like this. She was Gemma, who if she tripped over thin air, she then laughed about it. Gemma, who sometimes snorted when she really got to laughing hard at one of his stupid jokes. Gemma, who, even though it drove her absolutely insane, didn't ever try to deter him from achieving his goal of winning Trisha, even though it hurt her, he knew, beyond belief. But the Gemma before him, with tears streaming down her face, and her eyes so lost and filled with fear, he didn't know this Gemma and that scared him. "You
can
, Gemma. You can do this. I know you can," he forced out through a sob. "I know you can because I will be here with you every step of the way."

She hiccupped as he pulled her tight against him. He had no idea how much hearing him say those words meant. She was so scared. She felt so alone. "Stay with me," she whispered and didn't regret the words.

"What?"

"I don't want to be alone. Every time I close my eyes," she trailed off and he understood. Every time he closed his eyes too. "I understand if you would rather not be here, If you have someplace else you'd rather go, I mean look at me. But I just, I don't want to be alone."

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he replied, trying to stop her line of thought. He could feel it in the tense stature of her body, the moment she said he'd rather be somewhere else, and he knew she was probably still thinking about Trisha. It didn't matter that he had told her he was done, the obsession gone because he did sincerely see the error of his ways. It didn't matter if he apologized a thousand times for acting so callously about the whole thing. It didn't matter because of what she'd been through tonight; trust was not something Gemma had readily available any longer. And that killed him. "Go on inside, and I'll climb the tree."

She nodded, and after another couple minutes hesitation, she opened the car door and walked gingerly toward her front door. She could see a lamp was on inside, but she hoped and prayed it was just left on and that no one was up. With her luck, however, Leigh was probably waiting for her to grill her. Her right hand briefly touched her face, wincing at the bruising and still tender lip. It wouldn't be long before probably everyone knew what had happened to her.

With trembling fingers, Gemma unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The lamp by the door was on and Gemma noticed Leighanna’s keys were missing. She wasn’t home after all. Either way, it didn't matter. She wasn't home yet, which was what mattered. She breathed a sigh of relief at this knowledge and quickly rushed to her room. As soon as she shut the door and locked it, Gemma moved to her window, unlocking it to let Elliot in as he perched precariously on the branch.

“No one’s home. I should have told you before you started climbing so you could have come through the front door.”

“I was climbing before you even got to the door.”

Somehow, Elliot managed to maneuver through the window, only scratching his left knee lightly against the nook below the window, before tumbling gently only the floor. He'd been in Gemma's bedroom before. She had an amazing layout. Whereas Leighanna had the bigger room of the siblings, Gemma's room had more personality, like it had been designed just for her. She loved to read, and the small nook was the perfect spot to curl up in with a book. The door was right across from the window, with her full-sized bed right in the middle, and a rocking chair placed nearby. Being the simple girl she was, Gemma had an older model television sitting on top of an older set of dark oak Chester drawers, which was directly in front of her bed. However, she rarely watched TV, unless Elliot came over and then they would plop onto her bed, popcorn handy, and watch scary movies until passing out-her parents were surprisingly liberal about this. On one side of the window was her small closet, and on the other, Gemma's pride and joy: her bookcase filled to the brim. Her laptop lay on the floor by her bed.

While he'd been here multiple times, this time felt different. And it wasn't a good different. The tension was thick, fear actually permeating from Gemma into her area of comfort. Elliot didn't know what to do. He looked at the rocking chair, wondering if Gemma would be more comfortable with him there, or if she'd prefer him on the floor. He definitely didn't think she would want him anywhere near her bed. Not after what happened to her.

"I'm uh, I'm gonna go change. I think there's still some sweats of yours in the top drawer from when we all went camping." Grabbing a pair of pajamas, Gemma motioned toward her dresser, her face red even under the bruising. She didn't know what to do. She and Elliot had been close from the moment she barged into his life, and for most of the summer, they'd been best friends, closer than friends really, but she didn't know how things were going to be now. He'd seen something he shouldn't have seen about her. He knew things she didn't want anyone to know, let alone the one guy she had started to like. And it didn't matter that he said he no longer wanted anything to do with Trisha Scott, Gemma didn't trust that to be true. How could he go from such a deep seated infatuation for someone and suddenly just walk away from it? And what was she to him now? A pity case, or did he really care?

The door to the bathroom clicked shut. Light flooded the small room, illuminating the mirror. Gemma gasped at her face. She looked worse than she thought she did. She looked worse than she did at Mary’s house.
Oh, God
, she thought, her fingers lighting touching the area around her eyes. She had school on Monday-despite Elliot believing she would stay home, and unless she could convince her parents she needed to stay home…
everyone
would know. Taking a deep breath, trying to not start crying again, and remembering Elliot locked away waiting for her in her room, Gemma changed quickly out of Mary’s sweats, reminding herself to wash them very well before returning them, and started the shower.

They said at the hospital she could wash herself now. They said she could get clean if she wanted to. It was so stupid, the phrasing, why
wouldn't
she want to wash away what had happened? She let the water run as hot as she could stand, as she scrubbed and scratched. But she still didn't feel clean. She was dirty on the inside and no amount of soap was going to change that. Knowing she was less than a second away from breaking down, and not wanting Elliot to worry or try to come get her, Gemma quickly rinsed and shut off the water. She grabbed her favorite towel and wiped the water away, wishing she could wipe the night away as well.

Hiccupping to avoid sobbing, she rehung the towel, deciding to just let her hair air-dry, and slipped into her own sleep clothes. As soon as the long-sleeved shirt was over her head, Gemma frowned. For a girl who wore tank tops and small shorts to sleep in, she was now covered from head-to-toe. The pants were her dad's, stolen when they were still in Austin and she couldn't understand wearing flannel in such a warm environment. Now she was grateful for them. And the shirt was Elliot’s, borrowed on a July day when hers became drenched during a downpour. She had already started liking him by then, and keeping his shirt, while it seemed ridiculous on the outside, she didn't want to let it go because it was his.

As she stepped into the hallway, she noticed Leighanna’s bedroom door was closed, a sign that her sister was now home.

After the door closed, Elliot began unbuttoning his dress shirt. The night was a bust in regards to Trisha. He didn't know how he could have been so stupid, so like every other teenaged boy. He'd always prided himself on being better than that. But instead, he let hormones and lack of brain function dictate nearly more than two months of his life, blinding him to reality and the people around him. As he pulled the drawer open, he saw the sweats lying neatly beside Gemma's t-shirts. There was a strange tickle running along his mind, at knowing his clothes were that close to hers. It didn't make sense, especially given the course of the night, but it was a pleasant feeling. Shedding the dress shirt and his undershirt, Elliot slipped the t-shirt over his head. There was the distinct smell of Gemma's laundry soap all over it, filling his nose and bringing him calm.

She was so important to him, and for two months, he'd treated her horribly, with his obsession. He felt tears prick at his eyes, his heart suddenly beating painfully in his chest. The way she looked tonight, the pain and absolute horror and fear written and radiating from all over her, how did she come back from this? How could he come back? Stray tears escaped as he tried to get his breathing under control. He needed to be strong when she came back in. And knowing that could be any moment, he quickly undid his belt, and pants, letting them fall to the floor before pulling the sweatpants out and over his legs.

Just as he was about to shut the drawer, a small folded piece of paper caught his attention. Normally, he wouldn't touch it, and living with a sister, he knew all too well the ramifications of invading a girl's privacy, but this one he couldn't resist. It had his name on it, after all. Pulling the paper out, he quickly looked toward the door and then unfolded the note.

Elliott,

This is so stupid. I feel so stupid. I should just tell you how I feel instead of writing it out. It's like we're in junior high or something. But every time I open my mouth to speak, the words don't know how to come out. I'm afraid of rejection, of humiliation, of you telling me you don't think of me "that way" and we're better off as friends. I know we're good friends, best friends, really, but I want more. I thought you were cute the moment you saved me my first day. I've even told you that a couple times. But you've brushed it off. That's okay. Those times, my feelings weren't yet developed so it didn't matter. But now, now I like you and I wish so much you'd like me too. We're going to the carnival tonight and if you're reading this now, the night has just ended, you've left me at my porch and I've left this in your hand begging you to read it after you’ve gotten home. Again, it's okay if you don't feel the same way, just don't be too mean about it now that you know how I feel. And if you don't want to be friends anymore because you're probably feeling pretty awkward, well, not gonna lie, that's gonna hurt, but I'll understand. I just wanted you to know. God, I feel like an idiot.

Always,

Gemma

It was dated August third. They did go to the carnival that night. But Gemma never gave him this note. She never gave it to him because that was the night he saw Trisha and his whole world shifted to focus solely on her. The pain in his chest intensified as he thought of Gemma, carrying this note in her pocket, just waiting to give it to him only to find out she didn't have a shot the moment his mouth opened and he started talking non-stop about Trisha Scott.

Gasping for air, Elliot quickly returned the note to the drawer and closed it. He needed to get it together. He walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it just in time for Gemma to return. Looking at her, her face so sad, and her body curled in upon itself, he noticed how foolish he was. She'd carried her feelings for him with her for so long, never speaking a word to him, never even whispering them. She let him ramble on and on about some other girl, playing the supportive best friend, and he, without truly knowing, threw in her face the fact she didn't stand a chance because he was blinded by an empty smile.

But she wasn't so quiet that no one knew. Apparently their friends did. He knew her well enough to know that she hadn't told anyone directly. She probably didn't even know people could see how transparent she was. Well, everyone but him could see, it seemed. How could he have been so blind, so foolish? And why couldn't he have figured this out ages ago, so that Gemma never journeyed to Fairview, never needed to find something else to do just so she didn't have to deal with him? He might be in her room tonight for an entirely different reason, if that were the case.

With a sigh, Elliot noticed finally the shirt she wore. It was too big for her petite frame, and looked very familiar. He could see the Brighton Summer Baseball camp logo on the top left corner. It was his shirt, the shirt he'd loaned to her after a rainstorm had soaked their clothes. It dwarfed her already sad form. But he liked seeing it on her, as though it could protect her.

"Nice shirt," he mused in a whisper.

Blush stole to her face. "Uh, yeah, thanks."

He didn't want to add to her discomfort, so he let the subject drop for the time being. "I um, I wasn't sure where you wanted me." The words tumbled from his mouth sounding wrong. "I mean I know what we've done in the past, but I didn't know if you'd… well, I don't want to make you uncomfortable by assuming everything was the same. If it isn't, I mean."

As if she didn't already feel horrible enough, Gemma wanted the world to swallow her whole at Elliot's words. She was different now. Elliot's face looked pained, like just looking at her was hard on him. She didn't know if she could stand that. She was so different; her best friend couldn't even be in the same room with her like before. "If you want to leave you can. I don't want you to feel like you have to stay with me just because of... I'll be… I'll be okay."

"God, no, Gemma. That's not what I meant." He was flustered now. And wanted to rush to her to show her his true feelings. But that would scare her, so he remained still. "I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. I don't want you to be scared of me. You mean everything to me and I couldn't bear the thought of hurting you. Even in an unintentional way." He wasn't necessarily talking about the events of the night.