I sit there with Gemme hugging me, and one of my arms around her for a while not really knowing what to do or say. It still feels weird, but I guess it's a nice weird. Gemme cries into my shoulder for a bit and that freaks me out more than knowing she's in love with me. I've never had a sober girl crying at me before. You don't have to do anything about it when they're out of their heads, but I've never dealt with something like this with a sober girl.
I put my other arm around her and do my best not to squeeze too tight, but I don't know how tight is too tight. Her arms constrict around my middle and I breathe in sharply, not expecting it.
"Oh I'm sorry!" she loosens her grip again.
"No, it's fine. I just wasn't ready for it, that's all." I say, smiling a little, though she can't see it with her head buried in my shoulder.
"You sure? I could let go..." she mumbles into my shirt.
"I don't mind," I tell her. She looks up at me and her eyes are glistening with the tears, but she looks happy. Girls are so weird. I smile, trying to make it as confident as I can, but I get the feeling it didn't look as confident as I'd hoped. You can't blame me. Like I said, I've never had to do this before.
"Still not feeling any different?" she asks me.
"What am I supposed to be feeling, then?"
"Different...I don't know how to explain it. You'll know! You just don't look too happy." She babbles at me and I arch an eyebrow.
"I'm fine. I'm just not used to having someone clinging to me in tears." I shrug.
"I'm sorry. I'll stop." She sniffles, taking her hands from around my waist to wipe her eyes. I thought most of her tears had gone on my shoulder, to be honest. It felt like it, at any rate. Hmm.
"No, I was being insensitive, sorry." I mutter, and I don't remove my arms from around her, since she doesn't seem like she wants me to stop hugging her.
"It's fine. I'm being stupid anyway. I shouldn't cry so easily. I'm so weak." She complains, another sob shudders through her, but I shake my head and smile.
"You're not," I say quietly, moving one hand to wipe away a fresh tear that threatens to streak down her cheek. Pausing, I drop my hand, embarrassed. I pull away and lean back into the sofa, looking out of the window. "Sorry," She moved closer to me again, shaking her head a little.
"It's fine. Don't be so embarrassed around me." I glance at her and then look back out the window, resisting the urge to push her back. I'm suddenly uncomfortable with our proximity, though I don't know why. I did say I don't like change. She sighs and gets up. Oops.
"Would you like a drink?" she asks. I shake my head. She inclines her head in a half nod silently and disappears into the kitchen. As I pull out my cigarettes and light one, I hear the crack and hiss of a can being opened and she comes back with a can of coke. I float the ashtray over to me and balance it on the arm of the sofa. Gemme sits back on the sofa with me, but not so close. Though I guess she's not sitting as far away as possible, so that's a good thing. Right?
I kick my converse off and pull my legs up onto the sofa, sitting cross legged. I put the ashtray on my knee so I can lean back against the arm of the sofa, facing Gemme. When I blow the smoke out, I make sure it doesn't go straight in her face, but I have no idea what to say. So I say nothing.
"What?" she asks cautiously. I shrug wordlessly. Still don't know what to say. She rolls her eyes and then mimics me, sitting with her legs crossed, leaning back on the arm of the sofa opposite me. Inadvertently, we end up in a staring match of some kind, but not the kind where you try to keep your eyes open as long as possible. Just the kind where you look at each other silently for ages.
"What?" I ask jokingly. She shakes her head at me.
"Nothing." Silence. Just the slightest crackle from my cigarette when I take a drag as the tobacco burns.
"I'm sorry I freaked," I say eventually.
"It's okay. I'll try not to cry as much in the future..." I sigh and drop my gaze at last, staring at my cigarette as it smoulders down to the filter. Pushing it into the ashtray, I immediately have another out, and light it.
"You shouldn't bottle emotions," I tell her, looking up again. "I've just never had to deal with any of this before. I didn't mean to upset you more."
"No, I have bottled up my emotions for so long; a little longer won't hurt." She replies quietly. I have to resist the urge to slap some sense into her.
"Don't be stupid." I growl, my hand twitching a little, shaking the ash off the end of my cigarette onto my jeans. I just rub it in, making a grey smudge on my black jeans.
"I'm not being stupid," she retorts. The coffee table jumps and I glare at it. I'm over reacting, I know, but I can't help it. I'm not in the mood to argue.
"Fine," I snap.