Mixed Signals

Wait, What Problem?

Gemma broke our second kiss first, leaving us both breathless. She had wildness in her eyes that quickly burnt out when it hit her that we had just kissed... Twice.

Panic and worry overcame her features.

"Oh my God," her voice trembled a little bit. "I-I'm so sorry, Ian, I don't- I mean, I do, but I-"

I cut her stuttering off by gingerly cupping the left side of her face, where Conor had left his mark. Looking at her softly, I smiled. "It's all right, Gemma," my voice was low, a little rough from the passion that had ensued.

She let her eyes close and I felt her move into my touch. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me, nuzzling the unbruised part of her face into my chest. I embraced her, smoothing her hair. I sighed, beginning to wonder why this couldn't have happened sooner.

I couldn't help but smile at the fact that it was happening now, though. Joy and excitement blossomed in my chest, and despite the situation presiding it was horrendous, I couldn't stop myself from being happy that I was here, holding Gemma in my arms, having just kissed her.

I felt her stir, warning me that she was going to break our embrace. I loosened my arms and she leaned back to look at me.

"What do we do about work?" She asked quietly.

"You mean, what do we do about the fact that I'm the boss and you're my employee and we're now romantically involved?" I replied, giving her a half smile.

"Exactly that," her eyebrows furrowed, and she frowned. "And about, ehm... Conor."

"Teddy is taking care of Conor, we won't have to worry about him," I assured her, "at least not for a while. And as for work, well... We're not at work right now are we?" I grinned.

She pondered my attitude. "Yeah, but what happens when we go back?"

I eyed her, mockingly serious. "Now, Miss LeBlanc, we shan't speak of such ridiculous things. Especially not when we have a few days to ourselves."

Her eyes widened. "A few days?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "You and I will both be taking a few days' hiatus, due to recent traumatic events. You're welcome."

I could see her panic start to set back in. She stepped away from me, running her hands through her hair, looking confused. "But people will talk, they'll assume and- and then-"

"Gemma," I smiled amusedly, reaching out and placing my hands on her shoulders. She stopped, taking a deep breath, worry still gleaming in her beautiful blue eyes. "Let them talk. Let them assume. Don't worry about it, okay? You're here with me. Not there. And if anyone confronts you when we go back, they can take it up with me. Just breathe, darling, and let's have some breakfast."

She smiled and shook her head exasperatedly, but obliged. I grinned, hurrying to the kitchen to dish up the scrambled eggs and toast I'd made for us. She sat down at the bar, but I didn't hand her the plate I'd made for her. Instead, I winked and passed the bar, heading into the living room and seating myself on the couch. She followed and as she approached, I held her plate out and she took it, snuggling in next to me.

"So," Gemma broke the silence after a few minutes. "Tell me about yourself."

I turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "What?"

"Well," she shrugged. "If we're 'romantically involved' now, as you said, I think we should tell each other about ourselves. Because think about it: before now it was all small talk and friendly conversation, but nothing deep. I wanna know your secrets, Ian Everett." She smiled and winked mischievously.

"Ah, I see." I set my plate on my lap and cleared my throat. "What do you want to know?"

"Hmm..." She thought, biting her bottom lip and glancing around. "How about... Where are you from?"

I smiled. "Oxfordshire. I grew up there with my mum as an only child. My dad died when I was two, and left us with a large sum of money, due to the fact that he was, like me, a business man."

"Wow..." She seemed so intrigued by my story. I cleared my throat again, and shifted. The topic of my past isn't necessarily something I thought too highly of.

"Your turn," I redirected our conversation. "Where are you from?"

A hint of curiosity sparked in her but she let it be. She sighed, as though tired. "There's this small town on the southern Oregon coast in the States, obviously, that's named Reedsport. Tiny, tiny town. Beautiful and only five minutes from the beach, but tiny. That's where I'm from. And, as you know from previous conversation, I moved to London because I was tired of it. I grew up with my mom and dad and older brother. My brother and I don't really get along, though. But, yeah."

She stared off, deep in thought, but quickly snapped herself out of it. She looked at me and smiled. "What's your favorite color?"

I smiled wanly, and proceeded to answer her question. It was pale blue, and hers was red. We spent the day answering and asking each other questions. I found out she was a dog person, a Taurus, her favorite time of day was right before the sun rose, her favorite book was anything Harry Potter, her favorite genre of movie was romantic comedy or action, she loved Game of Thrones and superheroes, and her favorite pastime was baking.

We talked until we both fell asleep on the couch in the early afternoon, her head on my chest and my arms around her. I watched her sleep for a little while, pensive. The sun shone softly through the windows and landed on her hair, setting it alight.  She breathed heavily, occasionally whimpering softly. I drew circles on her back with my left hand, and held her hand on my chest with my right.

She was so beautiful. She had no makeup on and she was asleep and get eye was bruised, but she was  beautiful. She didn't need to look perfect, she already was. She was strong and brave, intelligent and kind. Beautiful was not enough to describe her.

And with all of her beauty, I wondered what she would think when she found out about me. All of my one night stands, the drinking, the partying, everything. I hoped she would still want me. But with that on my mind, I drifted off into sleep, forgetting why I was worried entirely.