As He Held My Hand

2. Gemma

Grant's POV

"C'mon, baby, come to the party. Pleaseeee." Mady coos in my ear. At least, I think her name is Mady. Maybe its Mandy. I don't know, I only hooked up with her last week because she's a gymnast with nice boobs. Her name was irrelevant.

"I can't go tonight M..." I drift off, because, like I said, I had already forgotten her name. "Megan. It's Megan." she says shortly. "Right. Megan." I confirm. I've never been good with names. "As I was saying, I can't go tonight. I have...plans." I say, hoping she doesn't ask what my plans are. My wish is not granted. "What plans?" she asks.

I sigh quietly, hoping she doesn't hear me, and close my locker. "Look, Mandy-." "Megan." she corrects me. "Look, Megan, I can't go. Trust me, I wish I could," I say, grabbing her waist with my hands and pulling her against me. She smiles and bites her bottom lip. "But I can't. The weather's bad and I already have plans." I step away from her, and her smile fades.

"Fine. Suit yourself. And I was going to wear my nice black top for you." she says, walking away. I close my eyes, picturing her in that tight black top...Stop it, Grant. You have plans, and you can't let your hormones get in the way of that. These plans are important.

I turn to go outside and watch as a blonde tries to push people out of the way to get to the front door. Someone's in a hurry. But her ass looks good in those jeans, so I think I'll catch up with her. I push past people myself, and follow where she's going, which I assume is to her car. Her car happens to be parked a few before me, so I can stop her before she leaves.

Once we're both outside, I watch as she speed walks to her car while fishing out her keys from her bag. She's looking straight ahead, and obviously doesn't see the huge patches of ice in front of her. I catch up with her a little, my strides longer than hers. She takes a large step forward, right onto the ice, and then lifts her back foot off the pavement. Her front foot slips out from under her, and I know she's going to fall.

I take another step towards her, cautious of the ice underneath us, and circle my arms around her small waist. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and she gasps as I catch her. After a second, I smile down at her, because she isn't hard to look at, and that gasp was adorable.

She opens her eyes after a few seconds, and I find myself staring into a pair of pale but deep gray eyes that match the sky on a cloudy day. She looks familiar, her facial features remind me of someone, but I can't remember her name. Like I said, I wasn't too good with names. "Nice one, Grace." I blurt out, smirking down at her. I stand her up and make sure she doesn't fall over again before walking off to my own car.

I didn't even get to talk to her. Maybe tomorrow. But I couldn't get her eyes out of my head. Who was she? I recognized her the more I thought I about her. What was her name...Gina? Gia? Gianna? No wait.

Gemma.

Gemma Willis. She's the girl that got me in trouble in the eighth grade for borrowing someone's answers for a test. OK, so maybe it was more like stealing, but I preferred the word borrowing. It didn't sound as bad.

Gemma Willis. Man was she annoying back in middle school. And freshman year. I kind of stopped noticing her after that, and we went our separate ways.

Until today.

Maybe she'd been ugly and annoying in middle school, but she'd grown boobs and a figure during the time period between freshman year and now. She was hot. But she was probably still annoying.

I try to remember why Gemma Willis would stick out to me. I mean, the test wasn't important, and I only got a zero on the test and was punished with a warning. It's not like I got expelled. And she never talked to me or did anything else to me. Why would I remember someone like Gemma Willis?

I think about this while trying to get home. The snow is falling in thick sheets, and its coating the windshield quickly. I turn the windshield wipers on, and they brush away the snow. Gemma Willis, Gemma Willis, Gemma Willis. The name runs through my head at lightning speed. Did she have any siblings? No, no she was an only child. Were her parents divorced? Wait, her parents. She didn't have a dad. No one knew why. Nobody knew where he went or what happened to him. But she has a mom. Or she had a mom.

I remember it then. Her mom died when she was in fifth grade. Her father left her mom and her, and her mom died when she was 12. At least I still had my dad. My mom left us when I was three. Just up and left in the middle of the night. My dad was devastated, and he never figured out the real reason she left. I don't remember her all that much, but my dad obviously does, and it hurts to see him in pain from missing someone who obviously doesn't miss him.

When I get home, I park my car in the garage and get out, jogging up the three steps into the house. My dad is sitting on the couch with a blanket covering his legs. He's asleep. The TV is turned on low, so I click the power button and the screen goes black.

I make my way to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. I accidentally slam the cabinets shut too loudly, and my father wakes up. He ambles into the kitchen, his legs still stiff from sleep. "Sorry, dad." I say, slapping a piece of ham onto the bread. "It's alright. I needed to wake up." he says. "No, I should have let you sleep. You need it." I look over at him.

The circles under his eyes are dark. He's been up for the past few nights, doing the bills and other things. "Well, good thing I got in a nap before our night, tonight. Are you still up for horror movie marathon and everything pizza?" he asks. I laugh. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." I tell him, putting the top piece of bread on my sandwich.

I lift it to my mouth and take a large bite. "I'll be upstairs doing my homework if you need me." I say through a full mouth. "Alright. See you soon." my dad says. He walks back into the living room and turns the TV back on. He's asleep again before I go back upstairs.

I'm worried about my dad. He's been staying up so late the past few nights, and he's been getting sick with stomach aches lately. I close the door to my bedroom and lean against the door for a minute before collapsing back on my bed. I plan on closing my eyes for a few minutes before starting my homework, but I end up falling asleep. I wake up a few hours later to the sound of my dad knocking on my door. "Pizza's here!" he calls through the door.

My eyes shoot open and I run my hands over my face. I can do my homework tomorrow. Or not do it at all.

I go downstairs to see my dad placing three pieces of pizza each on two plates. "I found a few movies we can start with, I'll let you pick." he tells me, moving over to the couch. I grab my plate and sit next to him, pressing the play button that starts "The Conjuring."

We watch at least three movies and finish off the box of pizza. My dad falls asleep towards the end of the third one, and I let him rest. I didn't want him worrying about the bills tonight. I watch as the last surviving camper of Friday the 13th cuts off the head of Jason's mother, and suddenly think about the party I'm missing.

I realize that I'm happy right now, where I am, with my dad. I didn't feel like getting drunk tonight, or having some slutty girl throw herself at me. I didn't feel like hanging out with Megan or whatever her name was. I didn't even like her all that much. I know, having girls fawn over you sounds pretty nice, but I didn't know anymore. I wasn't sure if I was getting sick of the lifestyle I'd been living for the past four years. I guess getting drunk and sleeping with different girls was the only way to keep my mind off of things I didn't really want to talk about.

After the movie ends, I wake my dad up and help him upstairs. Then I go to my room and start the homework I didn't do, fighting to keep my eyes open. I eventually have to drag myself to bed, and the last thing I see before I fall asleep are Gemma's pale grey eyes, staring into mine.