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  “Our junior year.”

  “An entire year and she just dumped you?”

  “I guess you can call it that. We never said we were officially dating or exclusive, though.”

  “That bitch!” I smashed my hand down on the mattress.

  Gemma smiled, and her eyes met mine briefly before shamefully zooming in on the popcorn.

  “That must have hurt. Finding out that way and not being able to talk about it with anyone.”

  She nodded, and her inability to verbalize the pain made her suffering even more potent.

  “I’m sorry. You deserve someone so much better than Kate.” I shoveled in a handful of popcorn, utilizing the time to come up with an action plan. I swallowed the remaining pieces. “I think it’s time to get you back on the horse.”

  “What?” She reached into the popcorn bag and placed several pieces into her mouth.

  “To date a girl. Not all of them are bitches like Kate. Take me for example—”

  Gemma’s eyes grew three sizes too large, and her cheeks turned hellfire red as she gasped for air.

  Did she think I implied I wanted to date her? No, she couldn’t think that. But… “I didn’t mean—”

  Gemma waved me quiet as she cleared her throat free from all popcorn remnants. Finally, she wheezed. “Oh no. I’m not ready for that. Really.” Maybe she picked up on my disappointment, because she said, “It’s very sweet of you to offer—to find me a girl.” She stumbled over the word girl but pressed on. “Right now, my focus is on school. Nothing else. No girls.”

  Somewhat relieved she understood my statement as an offer to find her someone to date and not me putting myself out there, I set my cup to the side to take Gem’s hand in mine. “She really broke your heart, didn’t she?”

  Gemma studied our conjoined hands, and I didn’t think she would actually confirm or deny. After wiggling her fingers free from my grasp, she looked at me with sincere and pleading eyes. “Uh, yeah, let’s call it that.”

  I wanted to push her on the unusual answer, but something told me she wouldn’t elaborate. Or did I not want to know the true meaning? Geez, finding out I was living with a lesbian was complicating the hell out of my life, not to mention my mind—like I was the one grappling with coming out of the closet, which was a ridiculous thought.

  The silence was unnerving, and I uttered the first thing that came to mind at rapid-fire speed. “I spoke to Josh this afternoon. He’s driving up next weekend to visit. He wanted to come for Halloween, but two of his buddies, who are twins, have to be here the weekend before for their sister’s wedding. That way, he can split the gas money, and he won’t have to drive alone.”

  “Really?” Her eyes widened to the size of flying saucers. “That’s good. Yeah, that’s good.”

  “April said you can crash at their place if you want.”

  “Of course.”

  “I know you aren’t a huge fan of April’s—”

  She stopped me with a flick of her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you and Josh will want to be alone. I understand completely.” She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “I’m beat. Can I go to bed now that tonight’s inquisition is over?” Her voice and smile didn’t hold a lick of humor.

  “Fine. Be that way,” I pouted. “But just so you know, I don’t give up easily.” I crawled into my bed, snuggling under the covers and, for some reason, stuck my tongue out at her.

  Gemma grabbed one of her T-shirts off the floor and threw it at me. “You better behave.”

  The playfulness had returned to her demeanor.

  “Me, behave? Not in my DNA.” I held the shirt in my arms, drifting off to sleep.

  The last thing I heard was Gemma mumbling to herself, “You’ll be the death of me.”

  Chapter Six

  Although Gemma had made it clear she wasn’t looking for a girl, I was determined to find her a date.

  At five minutes after noon, Gemma and I arrived at Denny’s, one town over. I could barely contain my excitement to meet Jenny and her buddies. Fingers crossed one of them would be the perfect match for my redhead.

  Jenny, Michelle, April, and two other girls sat at a table for ten.

  “There you are!” Jenny waved us over and made the introductions. “This is Paula and Cissy.”

  Paula’s horse face and buckteeth immediately ruled her out of the hat. Was she related to John Elway? Cissy, on the other hand, was stunning and way too girlie. I wasn’t a lesbian expert, but I was willing to bet five bucks Cissy was as straight as they come, like me. Not that I was super-girlie.

  Crestfallen, I slid into a seat next to Gemma, with two empty seats to my right.

  “The others will be here soon.” Jenny retook her seat in the middle of Michelle and April.

  “Where’s Seb?” I asked Michelle.

  “Probably in bed, where I left him. He deejayed the graveyard shift.”

  Jenny, playing host, announced, “Michelle and Seb both work at the college’s radio station.”

  “Are you a DJ?” Cissy sipped her iced tea.

  “No. I have a call-in show. Honing my headshrinker skills, so to speak. I also volunteer for the suicide hotline.”

  “How depressing.” April’s pinched face added to the effect.

  Horse Face said “Good for you” at the same time, making April’s statement even more awkward.

  Michelle acknowledged Horse Face with a smile and didn’t bat an eye in April’s direction.

  Jenny popped out of her seat, waving her arms as if directing an airplane in distress. “Over here!”

  I turned to see two girls, one on crutches, walking toward us. The injured one didn’t have a speck of makeup and was kinda cute in a sporty way. The other could have been April’s twin.

  “Here.” I pulled out my seat for the girl on crutches, so she’d have to sit next to Gemma.

  “Thanks.” She sat down with effort, trying not to jostle her bandaged ankle. At the last second before the leg made it successfully under the table, I spied nail polish, five different colors, on the exposed toes. Maybe that was a joke—like signing a cast.

  Jenny introduced Rowena, the one on crutches, and Miranda, April’s doppelgänger. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d even bother with Miranda. That left Rowena as my last hope. Aside from the questionable nail polish job and hideous name, I was pleased to have a contender for Gemma. Now it was time to put my matchmaking skills to the test. At least one of us could be in love—not that I wasn’t, but Josh was so far away—and as they say, out of sight, out of mind.

  The waitress came and took our order. Gemma and I both ordered French toast, and the rest got omelets of some type, except for April, who went for the chocolate chip pancakes. Did that mean she was in a good mood today? It was difficult to reconcile April and good mood.

  Different conversations erupted around the table, and I spied Gemma sitting quietly, smiling but not contributing. This wouldn’t do. Didn’t she realize who she should set her sights on?

  “Where are you from, Rowena?” I prodded the injured girl.

  “Kansas.”

  “Really?” I bent over the table to see my roommate. “Gemma’s from Nebraska. She’s a Husker’s fan.”

  Rowena turned to Gem and said, “Really? Our teams play on November seventh and”—Rowena pulled back so Gemma could see her entire upper body and moved her neck with a flourish—“we’re going to kick your ass. Rock chalk Jayhawk!”

  Was she speaking English or in Kansas code? The blue and red bird wearing yellow sneakers on the front of her T-shirt led me to believe it was a Kansas thing.

  If things were going to work between the two, I’d have to set Rowena straight about her sports loyalty. Even I, as Gemma’s roommate, took an interest, and before this semester, I didn’t give a flying fuck about any sport.

  Instead of Gemma coming to her team’s aide, she said, “What’d you do to your leg?”

/>   Color dotted Rowena’s cheeks in a not so flattering way. “I went to a Slip’N Slide party, where you had to make an entrance through the gate by sliding in. Let’s just say it didn’t go well.”

  Jenny overheard. “That’s debatable. It didn’t go well for you, but I for one won’t forget it. It was hilarious, the way you confidently dove onto the banana yellow slide and didn’t get halfway, spinning out of control and snapping your ankle.” With her hand, she mined Rowena starting down the slide, getting out of control, and crashing and burning. “No one will ever forget you, Slip.”

  Rowena rolled her eyes but didn’t appear overly offended by her hard-won nickname. “The good news is the cast came off last week. Now I just have to keep it wrapped and stay off it for one more week. I’m tired of watching these yahoos lose all their softball games.”

  I latched onto this nugget. “You play softball? Gemma loves softball.” I leaned forward. “Don’t ya?”

  “Do you play?” she asked Gem in an I don’t give a rat’s ass voice.

  “When I was a kid—not recently.”

  “Back in Nebraska, Gemma was a sportswriter.” I nearly winked at Rowena so she’d pick up on the code—Gemma was a lesbian.

  As if I was a foreign exchange student who didn’t understand American customs, Rowena smiled at me and then turned to Gemma. “Is that so?”

  Gemma hitched a shoulder, making it clear she wasn’t enjoying the attention. Had she seen the nail polish job? Was that why she was playing so hard to get?

  Cissy said something about last week’s game, garnering Rowena’s attention. Gemma glanced behind the girl’s back and narrowed her eyes at me. I feigned innocence by smiling vapidly and batting my eyes. Gemma mouthed “Knock it off” and then playfully made a fist, miming she’d clock me. I had to laugh. The thought of Gemma ever hurting anyone was unthinkable. She winked at me, bringing a smile to my face. Why couldn’t she be this playful with Rowena? If I were into chicks, I’d fall for Gem.

  Two waitresses with trays interrupted and sorted everyone’s meals. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Rowena probe her mouth with her thumb and forefinger to extract a wad of gum of the Big League Chew variety. Oh no, that wouldn’t do. I was willing to overlook her clumsiness, since that was one of my fatal flaws, and she hadn’t chosen her name. Her parents had stuck her with that. I didn’t understand the nail polish, but again, I was willing to give her a pass until proven it was all her idea. But Big League Chew? Maybe it was a dyke thing or a softball quirk, if you could separate the two, but it was wrong. So, so, so wrong. She simply wasn’t the girl for Gemma.

  Jenny added two packets of white sugar to her coffee. “Ro, how is Fergs?”

  The waitress was making the rounds, refilling most cups. Gemma requested another cup of tea in her soft but polite voice.

  “Suffering with an epic hangover. Michelle, what’d you put in those Jell-O shots?”

  Michelle waggled her brows. “Family secret.”

  “Damn, I wish I grew up in your family.” Rowena stuffed her mouth with Mexican omelet, chewing with her mouth open. Not only did she need to learn the proper gum for a girl, she needed manners. This was not the way to win Gemma’s heart; of that, I was sure.

  Was this how lesbians identified themselves in public? Little things like Big League Chew, playing softball, eating with your mouth open? If that was the case, poor Gemma. I just couldn’t see her with a girl ever. Not the tea-drinking Gemma.

  “How long have you been with Fergs?” Michelle asked.

  Rowena set down her coffee cup and tapped her chin with a finger. “Let’s see; we met in high school. I was a junior, and he was a senior—so almost two years.”

  Fergs was a he? What about all the signs?

  I needed to make sure I heard Rowena correctly. “Is Fergs his real name?” Sounded like an STD.

  Maybe she picked up on this thought, because she replied coolly, “Yeah. His last name is Ferguson.” Rowena continued eating and chatting with her softball buddies across the table, avoiding my eye. Obviously, she was done with me. Not that it mattered. I’d already determined she wouldn’t do for Gemma. Rowena and Fergs deserved each other—hideous names and all.

  Gemma caught my eye and stuck her tongue out at me. Everyone else was too busy inhaling their food and sharing bits and pieces about Michelle’s party the night before to notice.

  I shrugged.

  By the time all of us had finished eating and shooting the shit, I came to the conclusion that only Jenny and April were into chicks and they were only making goo-goo eyes at each other. One word came to mind: yuck!

  Finding Gemma a girlfriend wasn’t going to be a simple task.

  Never fear, I told myself. I wasn’t the type to shy away from the monumental.

  ***

  Luckily after brunch, Gemma had to bail to meet with a group for a sociology class project that was due tomorrow. She couldn’t ream me on the way home, because we ended up chauffeuring April. Jenny and the gang had softball practice. Or was it a meeting? Hard to believe they could eat so much and then play. I’d be puking in a trash can.

  Minutes after Gemma dashed out of the room with her backpack, Heidi called me to ask if I wouldn’t mind helping out at the theater for a few hours since someone called out sick. Not wanting to but in need of the mighty dollar, I agreed.

  By eight I returned to my dorm room, nearly smashing Gemma with the door. “I’m sorry.”

  She stepped away from the full-size mirror on the back of the door, waving me in.

  “What are you doing?”

  Gemma gripped a stack of index cards in her hand. “Practicing my speech for tomorrow.”

  “You have to give a speech? I thought it was a group project.”

  “We have to present our research to the class.”

  “Ugh. I hate speeches.” I collapsed on my bed. “My dogs are barking.” I slipped my shoes off and wiggled my toes.

  “Were you working? It’s not on the calendar, or I would have met you.”

  “Heidi called me in at the last moment after Todd went home sick. Hungover is my guess.” I massaged my right foot. “Candy Man opened on Friday, which means no more free showings of A River Runs Through It.” Gemma and I had a fondness for the movie, even though she didn’t think Brad Pitt was all that and a bag of chips, like I did. Now I knew why. I chuckled. Lesbians couldn’t appreciate what was right in front of them. “What’s your speech on?”

  She flicked her hand. “It’d only bore you. Would you like a cup of tea? You look chilled to the bone.”

  “That’d be great.” When I left this afternoon, it had been relatively warm, but boy did the temperature drop. Typical Colorado weather. “Tell me about your speech.” I rested against the wall, my feet pointing toward the window and Gemma’s bed. The light across the street filtered yellow rays into our room.

  Gemma busied herself making tea. “Seriously, the speech is so boring. I wouldn’t want to subject you to it.”

  “At least tell me what it’s about.”

  “Did you see the movie The Great Imposter? It’s an older film starring Tony Curtis.”

  I squinted at the ceiling. “That doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “And you’re in the movie industry.” She tutted.

  “Somehow my bosses overlooked this serious flaw on my resume.”

  She laughed, handing me a cup of tea.

  “Thanks. What was the movie about?”

  “It’s about Ferdinand Waldo Demara, Jr. He was a con man. There’s also a book about him called The Great Imposter.” She settled on the bed, shoving a copy of last week’s Sunday paper from her hometown, which her parents mailed every Monday, onto the floor. She took a cautious sip of the steaming tea.

  “What’d he do? Rob banks?”

  She shook her head. “No, he pretended to be people, like a surgeon. He actually operated on a few individuals.”

  I gasped. “And h
e wasn’t a doctor?”

  “Nope. He’d read medical manuals, but he had never been trained.”

  Curious, I probed. “What else did he pretend to be?”

  “A prison warden, civil engineer, psychologist, professor, monk—”

  I cut her off, laughing. “Why’d he pretend to be a monk? If I was going to con people, I’d have them think I was an actress or someone in the biz. Make them treat me like Hollywood royalty.”

  “People do weird things, like you pretending to be a matchmaker today at brunch. Who do you think you are, Hello, Dolly?”

  Busted.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I avoided her eye.

  “I think you do. ‘Gemma loves softball,’” she mimicked me.

  “I didn’t emphasize love like that,” I scoffed.

  “Yes, you did.” She repeated it with even more emphasis.

  “Shut up! I didn’t sound that way at all.” I laughed, spilling some of my tea on my shirt. “Damn. I’m running out of clean clothes.”

  “Serves you right. I told you I’m not interested in dating just anyone. And FYI, not all softball players are gay. Living with a lesbian doesn’t make you an expert. Promise me you’ll stop.” Her tone was overly playful, much to my relief.

  I mimed zipping my lips shut and tossing away the key.

  “That’s not a promise. I need to hear you say the words.”

  I clamped my lips tightly together.

  “Teeg,” she coaxed.

  “What words? Gemma loves softball?”

  Gemma cocked her head the way she did when in the right. “Try again.”

  “Gemma loves the Cornhuskers.”

  “Still not the right words.” She was smiling, and her eyes shone.

  “Gemma loves con men… wait, I mean con women.”

  She groaned. “Why did I tell you my secret?”

  “Because you love me.”

  The frivolity left her eyes, and she straightened her head. “Is that a fact?”

  “I didn’t mean it… not like that… like best friends.”

  Her confidence returned but not her smile. “You know, if you want to be anything like Demara, you’re going to need a well thought out cover story and you’ll have to stick with it. It’ll save you from stumbling over your own tongue.”