I hand her a bottle of water, at her request because she's a responsible mother-to-be, and she clinks the neck together with my beer bottle. Plastic on glass makes for an unimpressive sound. She says, "Cheers," at the same time I say, "Salud," and all is right in the world. I know outside this house there are billions of people doing a billion different things, but I feel a little sorry for them at the moment. Because they're not in my shoes, in Gem's company. She makes everything better. She's like fireworks, and not the boring beginning and middle part, but the fucking finale that lights up the sky in a riot of color and sound.
"Can we eat while we play pool? I've already racked."
I grab the platter of goodness and follow her to the dining area where the pool table resides. "Whoever loses has to take off an article of clothing."
She glances down at her tank top, nipples perky as all hell, and leggings. "Can I put on a jumper before we start? And two more pairs of socks? And maybe a hat?"
"Nope. I recall some trash talking earlier, something about kicking my ass. What are you worried about, hustler?"
"I may have misrepresented my aptitude for the game," she says sheepishly.
She wildly misrepresented. Gemma is, without a doubt, the worst pool player I've ever seen. She makes me look like Tom Cruise in "The Color of Money."
Her leggings are history. And because I like to keep things even, I throw the second game, and we both start the third game in underwear and shirts.
I know it's contradictory, but every time she walks past me in her tank top and cheeky bright pink bottoms, or bends over and flashes her ass or cleavage depending on where I'm standing—and believe me, I strategically place myself to take in all the angles—she looks like the most innocent form of sin imaginable. A good girl with a bit of a naughty side.
The nachos lay in ruins on the side table—we demolished them in no time. Our album has played through once on her phone. Empty beer and water bottles are lined up keeping each other company.
I'm buzzed. Which makes the ass and cleavage show so damn hard to resist.
Gem's eyes are warm and her smile dreamy and inviting, despite the lack of alcohol.
"I forfeit. You win." Reaching behind my head, I strip my t-shirt up and over my head.
In reality, we're both winners, because her tank top joins mine on the floor.
I've backed her up against the pool table, thigh to thigh, pinning her in place. My lips greedily on her neck. My hands tangled in her hair.
She's equally eager. Her hands are gliding over my ribs down...down...
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Gemma freezes, panicked like she's been caught in the act.
"Ignore it," I whisper against the hollow of her throat. "They'll go away."
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Then comes shouting from the other side of the door. "I know you're in there, dude! The lights are on!" He knows I'm anal about things like that and would never leave the lights on if I wasn't home. "Put your clothes on and come answer the door! Girl Scout wants to meet Gemma!"
"Can they see us? He doesn't know why I'm here, right?" Gemma says with one hand attempting to cover her ample bosom and one splayed over her undies.
I sigh. Because Gus and his timing couldn't be worse. And then I laugh. Because Gem's modesty is grappling alongside fright and it's cute as hell. "There aren't any windows. They can't see us. And no, he doesn't know, he's making assumptions."
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
"I'm coming!" I yell.
"I don't need a mating play by play, dude! You copulate, we'll wait!" Gus replies loudly.
My eyes shift to Gemma, and she's trying, unsuccessfully, to stifle a giggle as she shimmies into her clothes. I can't help but laugh too. "I guess I asked for that one."
"You kinda did," she agrees.
"Gem's coming, too!" I yell and am rewarded with a halfhearted slap on the shoulder to shut me up.
Gus is laughing heartily, I can hear it in his voice. "Like I said, not necessary to share the details! But I'm proud of you for being a generous lover, dude! That's important!"
Fully clothed, I walk to the door. Scout and Gemma are both shaking their heads and blushing when I open it.
I tip my chin at Gus. "Hola, cock blocker."
Gus opens his mouth to continue the closed door banter, but Scout shuts him down. She looks mortified. "Franco, I'm so sorry. I thought Gus called to let you know we were stopping by. We can go if this isn't a good time."
"No, come on in. We were just playing pool," I lie. Because Scout is nice and I want Gemma to meet her.
Gus opens the screen door for Scout to enter and he follows her in with a whisper directed at me. "Dude, I was kidding. I didn't think love would already be in session this early. I feel like a dick, I can make up an excuse, and we can totally leave."
"It's okay. Stay. Dick," I tease. I wonder how he knew what we were in the middle of, and like he can read my mind he nods subtly to Gem...whose tank top is on backward, and whose face and hair looks guilty as hell.
Gus doesn't miss a beat in trying to smooth this over. "Scout, before I introduce you to your future bestie, I need to show you how pretty we made the Grotto."
"Gus?" Scout protests to his suggestion and gives an apologetic shrug to Gemma. "We really aren't this rude, I promise. I'm so sorry. I'm Scout, Gemma. It's nice to meet you."