Page 42 of Green
9
Theo
By Tuesday, everything had changed.
I had now made out with my best friendandseen her wrapped in a towel. I was in the kitchen having a midnight snack, when the door to the bathroom in the hallway opened and she emerged, skin glistening, towel wrapped so tight and low on her chest, her soft perky tits pushed up and squeezed together, humming to herself as she strolled the six feet to her bedroom door. Instead of scampering and shrieking “don’t look at me I’m naked!” as I would have expected, she took her sweet ass time and even turned her head to look me straight in the eyes while combing her fingers through her silky wet hair.
If it had been anyone other than her, I would have known immediately and without question that she was either giving me an invitation or hard-core teasing me. But Gemma doesn’t do that kind of thing. At least she didn’t used to.
Five years worth of denied attraction suddenly showed up uninvited in my pants and it wasn’t going to go away without a fight.
There weren’t enough math problems in the world to keep my mind occupied after that, and the hundred sit-ups I did in my room did nothing to make the monster boner subside, so I also did something I’d never done before: I left the door to my en suite bathroom open, got into my shower and jerked it to a filthy fantasy of my housemate tiptoeing in and joining me, and I didn’t even bother to keep quiet when I came like a rocket.
I had not seen her since then. She was probably fast asleep at that point. Part of me hoped that she was, and part of me hoped that she wasn’t.
Also, I was officially a naturalized American citizen.
The ceremony was held at the convention center. There was no pomp and circumstance, just a big American flag hanging from the ceiling and a big screen for the video of a bunch of notable US landmarks edited together with a soundtrack that sounded an awful lot like the theme forThe West Wing. I found it all very moving. Or, I guess I should say that I was moved.
I received my certificate of naturalization and had to turn in my permanent resident card—the green card that Gemma Kelly married me for. Now that I was surrendering it, it felt like that part of our life was really over. I felt…melancholic. Until I thought about how fucking great she looked wrapped in a towel and how amazing the next part of our life could be if I had just dropped that mug of peppermint tea I was drinking in the kitchen, strode across the house to her room, pulled that towel off of her toned curvy body, and licked and sucked every wet inch of her until she begged me to fuck her and never ever stop.
These were not the kinds of thoughts that I should have been having about my best friend, especially while holding such an important government-issued document.
I’d had my assistant clear my schedule for the afternoon, and no one else was home to celebrate. Everyone else was at work, of course, Gemma was on set. She had been getting in late, going to work early as she said she would, so we hadn’t had time to talk about things. I didn’t know if she was really planning to move out, or when. I just knew that I didn’t like coming home when she wasn’t there.
She had left out a cupcake on the counter before she’d left that morning, with a note written in red white and blue ink:Congratulations, Walker! I guess America is stuck with you now. xo
I knew that she had gotten the cupcake at a bakery in Culver City, near the lot where she was working. She would have had to drive there on her lunch break yesterday. She got my favorite flavor—coffee toffee. I ate the whole thing in two delicious bites, and each time I took it into my mouth I imagined…The opposite of getting a call from my mother right at that moment.
But that’s what was happening. I swallowed and reached for my water bottle as I answered.
“Hey Mom.”
“Is it over? The ceremony?”
“I wouldn’t be answering the phone in the middle of it. Yes, I’m home.”
“So—you did it! Congratulations, I suppose.”
“Thank you.” My parents weren’t exactly thrilled that I hadn’t returned to Toronto after graduating, but they were supportive of my endeavors nonetheless. I was lucky that way.
“So that’s all done then. The whole process?”
“Pretty much. I just have to send out my passport application. I’m paying extra for a quicker processing time.”
“And how’s Gemma? Do you have…plans?”
“Regarding?”
“Are you going to be…you know…making any changes to your current situation?”
“We haven’t really had time to discuss it.” It was a half-lie. We hadn’t discussed it to my liking, anyway. “I’m in no rush.”
“Oh, good!” She sounded so happy, you’d think I’d just told her I’d bought her front row Michael Bublé concert tickets.
“Why?”
“I just mean, well, you know. She’s so good for you.”
