Check, Please (Book #2)

Two.

I lost my virginity to Gemma Patterson on the first night of our freshman year orientation week. I'd been interested in her friend at first, and she'd been busy eyeing up Parker, but after the two of them left for an off-campus party, Gemma and I wound up alone in her dorm room with fourteen cans of beer and zero self-control. To my surprise, what I'd expected to be a one night stand somehow turned into a three year long relationship. It had been off-and-on -- and, granted, we were more off than on these days -- but neither of us seemed willing to officially call it quits.

We'd get together, we'd break up. We'd get together, we'd break up. It was like a broken record on repeat but, in spite of everything, I still loved Gemma and I'm pretty sure that terrified her. My friends constantly ribbed me for being whipped and I could never say anything in my own defense. I was whipped, pathetically whipped. In Gemma's eyes, I was probably more like a well-trained poodle than boyfriend material. No matter how long we went without speaking, however, one of us would eventually cave and call the other, usually suggesting that we get together to talk. Without fail, our attempts at friendship always ended with us naked in bed and that was exactly what had happened after Gemma texted me earlier. Now, as I glanced at the sleeping figure beside me, I wondered if we'd finally be able to make it work this time.

If I had to point to a single thing, then I'd say that our issues primarily stemmed from the fact that Gemma could never decide what she wanted. Some days it was me, most days it felt like it was someone or something else. On and off, just like a light switch. She changed her mind faster than I could change a flat tire and the worst part was that she never gave me any warning. If Gemma said, "I love you," in the morning, chances were that she'd dump me by noon the same day.

It drove me crazy but I put up with it because I knew the alternative was not having her around at all. Parker always shook his head whenever Gemma and I got back together after a break but he never said anything about it to my face. Whether he was trying to be a supportive friend or he was too nice to tell me that I was an idiot, I could never say for sure. At least he and Gemma got along, which was more than I could say for Gemma and my family. Granted, the disdain that my parents and Michael felt for her wasn't altogether surprising, not after what happened the summer before sophomore year.

Two years ago, she'd called me in the middle of July while sobbing uncontrollably and ranting about how much she regretted going on the school-sponsored study abroad program to Rome. Considering the fact that Gemma was an art history major, I was genuinely stunned to hear that she was miserable and wanted to come home.

"I wish you were here," she said over and over again as we talked until the sun came up and light filtered through my window. "I'd give anything for you to be here with me."

"Really?" I'd asked.

And without a moment of hesitation, she said, "Absolutely."

A few hours later, I'd driven to the bank and transferred two thousand dollars from my savings to checking account, and that evening I told my parents that I'd booked a non-refundable flight to Rome. I'd never been more afraid of my dad than I was in that moment, though a large part of my fear stemmed from the fact that I thought he might keel over from a stroke. Purple-faced and pulling out his hair, Dad had been too pissed to form a single coherent sentence and it fell on my mom's shoulders to relay how disappointed they were in my use of the money that Meemaw had left me. In the background, Michael had laughed so hard that his snickers still rang in my ears as I went through airport security the next morning.

Upon my arrival in Italy, I quickly learned that Gemma's sorrow had been fueled by two pitchers of sangria and a maxed out credit card rather than a genuine interest in having me fly out. She giggled with embarrassment as we sat in her shared apartment and she apologized for making me worry, though her tone turned accusing when she asked why I'd come without asking her first. Feeling like an idiot, but not knowing what else to do at that point, I stuck around and we spent -- what I thought had been -- an amazing week together touring the city.