Page 41 of The Dating Coach
I found Gemma in the living room, surrounded by a fortress of notes, still in her pajamas with her hair in a chaotic bun. She looked up when I entered, and the vulnerability in her expression made my chest tight.
"I can't remember anything," she said without preamble. "I'm going to fail. I'm going to lose my scholarship and disappoint everyone and—"
"Breathe," I interrupted, setting down the muffins and crossing to her. "When's the last time you ate?"
"I don't need food, I need a functional brain!"
"Your brain needs glucose to function," I countered, unwrapping a muffin and putting it in her hand. "Eat. That's not a request."
She glared but took a bite, and I saw Mia relax fractionally from the doorway. While Gemma ate, I surveyed the chaos of notes, recognizing my own handwriting mixed with hers. Evidence of our hours together, of knowledge built through patience and repetition.
"Quiz me," Gemma demanded through a mouthful of muffin. "SN1 versus SN2 reactions."
"No."
"No?" She stared at me. "Liam, the test is in two hours—"
"And you know the material," I said firmly. "What you need is confidence, not cramming."
"I need—"
"Get dressed," I interrupted. "Something comfortable. We're going for a walk."
"A walk? Are you insane? I need to study!"
"You need to get out of your head," I corrected. "Trust me. Humor me. Same thing."
She looked like she wanted to argue, but Mia piped up from the doorway. "Do what he says, Gem. Your current method is just making you spiral."
Twenty minutes later, we were walking through campus, Gemma vibrating with nervous energy beside me. The morning was crisp, cold air sharp enough to wake the senses. I led her toward the quieter paths, away from students rushing to early classes.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "I should be reviewing—"
"Tell me about your grandmother," I said, the non sequitur stopping her mid-complaint.
"What?"
"You mentioned once that she's why you want to be a doctor. Tell me about her."
Gemma was quiet for a moment, then: "She was everything. Made the best chocolate chip cookies in existence. Never missed a school play or science fair." Her voice softened. "When she got sick, I spent every afternoon at the hospital reading to her. Medical journals, mostly. She said if I was going to be there anyway, we might as well learn something."
"She sounds amazing," I said gently.
"She was. Even at the end, when the pain was... She never complained. Just kept telling me she was proud of me. That I was going to do great things." Gemma's voice caught. "I promised her I'd become a doctor. That I'd findbetter treatments so other kids didn't have to watch their grandmothers fade away."
"And you will," I said with complete certainty. "One organic chemistry exam isn't going to stop Gemma Spears from keeping a promise."
She looked at me then, really looked, and I saw the moment her spiral broke. "You really believe that."
"I've never believed anything more in my life," I said simply.
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the campus waking up around us. When we circled back toward the science building, Gemma seemed calmer, the manic energy replaced with determination I recognized from her swimming competitions.
"Thank you," she said as we approached the building where her exam would be held. "For the walk. For everything. For—" She paused, seeming to wrestle with words. "For seeing me as more than my achievements or failures."
"That's what friends do," I said.Friends—such a wrong, inadequate word for what I felt for her.
"Two hours," she said, squaring her shoulders like she was preparing for battle. "I've got this."
