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I want to kiss Gemma, not be forced into a date with someone else.
“And… that’s supposed to be good news?” I shift to drive and press the gas. We barrel across the lot. The truck’s headlights cut a swath of yellow light across ink-back stands of trees.
“Really good. I was afraid you’d only get one or two matches. Three’s usually enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“Enough to get you on the right track. You know… what we’ve been talking about. What your family wants for you. A wife.”
“But I told you, that’ll happen for me when the time’s right.”
“The time is rightnow. You’re thirty-three. Statistically speaking, your wife will probably be within plus-or-minus four years of you. So, say twenty-nine to thirty-seven. If you start dating now and the relationship progresses at an average speed, you guys will still have time to have kids before she reaches forty. I don’t have to sit here and give you a lecture about ovaries and eggs, do I?”
“Whoa, Gemma. This is sort of a lot to take in.”
“You need to think about this stuff.”
“Do I, though? Really? I’m doing fine.”
“Youthinkyou’re fine, but you’re not. Not really. You’re helping me unwind a little, so I might as well help you, too, right?”
“You think it’s helpful to say this stuff about—” I cough and clear my throat, which is suddenly incredibly dry.Where is that water bottle?“Ah… um—ovaries?”
She reaches out, places a hand on my knee, and squeezes. “Don’t drive off the road, there, Stud. Focus.”
She’s right. My steering did get a little off.
But her hand on my leg isn’t helping matters. I mow over a stand of weeds and then manage to correct course before actually driving us into the ditch. Once I have the truck out between the painted lines where I’m supposed to be, I glance over at her. “Gemma, this isn’t what I had in mind for tonight.”
“I know… you had a plan. And we did your part. We had fun. But take it from me—an actual, experienced, bonafide planner—sometimes even when you map something out, it goes haywire at the last minute.”
“Yeah, I’d call this haywire.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. I’m giving you the facts.” Her face has a pale blueish glow to it, thanks to the light off the screen she’s staring into. “Most women like to be engaged by age thirty, popping out babies a few years after that. That’s the reality. You’re not too far behind the ball, but if you keep dragging your heels like you are, you’re going to be screwed.”
She taps a few keys on her laptop. “Shoot. Wifi’s getting weaker. Can you pull over here?”
“So you can harass me about this? No.”
I can feel my blood rushing, still, every time I look over at her. I really wanted to kiss her back there.
I shouldn’t have tried, though.
I scared her off.
“Fine, I pulled up one profile anyway, so it’s okay.” Her voice is hard-edged and a little too high-pitched.
You don’t grow up around a person without learning their different moods. This is Gemma in fight-mode. You wouldn’t catch it if you’d just met her, but I’ve seen her put this war paint on before.
If she’s fighting, it means she must feel defensive.
She’s afraid of what’s happening between us.
Tonight, I watched her guard come down. I watched her shed her defenses, loosen up, and start to go with the flow. Then I tried to kiss her, and nowthis.
Was it that bad, me trying for that one kiss?
Maybe it was.
