Chapter Twenty-Eight: Way Cliche

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    After Gemma woke up that morning, she was talking with Bea about her date. Bea was even more enthusiastic about it than Gemma.

    "I hope he doesn't bring flowers." Bea grumbled, and Gemma tilted her head.

    "I love flowers." She argued in a small voice.

    "It is literally a gift that dies. Plus it's way cliche." Bea said, and Gemma had to think that she sounded like a bit of a bitch. Bullshit, she thought, it's the gesture that counts.

    But she couldn't say any of that, so she drawled sarcastically, "No, figuratively."

    Bea rolled her eyes and went to make a cup of coffee. Gemma left with a quick goodbye, and was out the door in a bad mood.

"Do you like flowers?" She asked him when he arrived. He gave her an odd look.

"Sure, I guess. I'm a bit allergic in the spring, though." He answered, and she frowned. He liked her better with a smile. "Why?"

"Flowers are the best gifts. It's the gesture, you know?" She said, but in the way she said it, she was miles away.

He tilted his head. "Something on your mind?"

"I, uh, have a . . . " Her voice suddenly got extremely soft, almost guilty, "I have a date tonight." 

His gaze didn't waver, his expression didn't shift, he looked indifferent. This somehow made her angry. She wanted him to react, and she didn't know why.

"Is it Jason?" He asked innocently.

She realized she wanted him to be jealous.

"He treats me well, you know? He's sweet, and he is a great listener. He is perfect."

Noah struggled to keep his voice even. "You deserve that. Someone like him."

The minute he said it, she felt terrible. God, I'm a bitch, she thought, horrifyed. He has a girlfriend, why would he even be jealous?

"I'm sorry." She whispered, and left without telling him why.

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