The Blondes of Bel-Air

GEMMA

After unpacking, I saw I had a couple of hours before dinner. Lily was busy working on her homework and I didn't want to disturb her. It had been years since I strolled around the entire grounds of the beautiful Madison-Vaughn estate and I had an intense desire to go outside. 

The sky was bright and blue as always and the grass looked especially green and lush. The scent of freshly clipped grass and jasmine hung in the air.

I took my time meandering through the lavish gardens and perfectly manicured grounds. I knew just where I was headed. I should've thought to bring a book. It was the perfect day to relax with a novel. Something to take my mind off of everything that was going on. My old hiding spot in the garden was calling out to me like an old friend I hadn't visited in far too long.

The stone bench felt cool beneath me as I sat. I tilted my head back and allowed my memories to take over, recalling a summer with our friends. A summer when everyone got along and no one talked behind anyone's back. That summer when the five of us were all still young and innocent. That summer of my first crush.

I finally opened my eyes. That was the second time I'd thought of Jason recently. Before the other day, he had not surfaced in my memory for years. I wondered why I hadn't thought to Google him. What was the internet for if not to look up old crushes and future boyfriends?

I took out my phone and typed his name into Facebook. Nothing but not surprising because Facebook was mostly old people. I looked on Twitter and came up empty. I logged onto Instagram then clicked on the 'search' tab and waited while the page loaded. "Hurry up already!"

"Talking to yourself these days, huh, Gemma?"

I whirled around, startled.

"How do you know my name?" In a split second, I was on my feet, blood cursing through my veins like lava.

"Whoa, easy girl!"

"I'm not a dog!" I snapped. "How do you know my name? And why are you speaking English, Zappos?"

"I'll admit it, Zappos is a good one. Figures the only Spanish between you and Lily would be the Spanish word for shoes." He sat where I had been sitting seconds before and laughed aloud. He ran his hands through his hair and stared at me like I should be saying something only I couldn't think of anything to say.

"Relax, Gemma. You look like you're going to have a stroke."

I stared at him. My legs shook as if I was standing on a fault line, and my heart began to pound so fiercely that I was certain he could see the movement beneath my top.

"Sit." He patted the seat next to him.

I sat only because I feared that my legs would give out from under me any minute.

"You speak English? This whole time you've spoken English? I don't understand." I stared closely at Zappos. "Who are you?"

"Ouch. That hurts, Gemma."

I squinted, examining the features of his face. His dark eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and a soft, full mouth. I recalled the look on his face the night he had caught us on the tennis court, covered in dirt. The expression on his face wasn't shock or even confusion, it was  concern.

That day in the farmers market?

The tennis lesson with Sven?

"Why didn't you say anything?" I managed a raspy whisper. A light wind ruffled through the trees and I shivered.