Page 71 of Green
17
Gemma
There is no way I’m going on vacation with him. No. Way.My brain had broken just from kissing him and my body temperature had risen so much just from hearing him talk about us going to town on each other—if we actually did it, I was sure I’d instantly burst into flames and melt, like the Nazi at the end ofIndiana Jones.
Still, I found myself hopping into the shower as soon as I got back to Chloe and Ethan’s, with a brand new loofah to exfoliate myself from my shoulders down to my toes, until I was so smooth he would probably just slide around on top of me and then smash into the headboard. There’s an innovative form of birth control! My skin was red and raw when I was finished with the loofah. I was so distracted while shaving, by the time I was out of the shower, my lady parts looked like one of those hairless cats.
And there’s another clever form of birth control, right there. Let’s hope there are no light sources where he’s taking me.
When I’d emerged from the steamy bathroom, I read the email itinerary that Theo had sent, and laughed. I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes.
Was it ironic that he had chosen a Canadian destination for our “real honeymoon” and the place where we were meant to consummate our green card marriage?
Yes.
Yes, it was.
Was it funny to me that his definition of paradise was an off-season alpine mountain resort town?
Nope.
Not at first.
I nearly hurled my phone across the room.
But when I read that his favorite family memory from before his parents divorced was visiting Green Lake at Whistler, British Columbia on a vacation, and that he wanted to be there with me—I may have fallen just a tiny bit more in love with him.
At that point, he could have told me he was taking me fishing in a swamp, because if it was that important to him, I would have gone anywhere.
And I would consummate our marriage anywhere.
On a mountain. On an old rowboat in the middle of a swamp. Anywhere.
As Chloe had said in a text to me earlier that day when I was starting to panic:Enough! Less nut job, more blow job.
It felt by then like I had finally gotten all of that built-up angst out of my system. My horny hormones had been making me crazy and I was ready to trade them in for the happy calm hormones that flood your brain after you’ve been sexually satisfied. I was so ready for that. I was beyond ready for it. What’s the thing that comes after being ready? I was that. Times ten. I just hoped that I wouldn’t try to mount him on the plane.
* * *
“I’ll be referring to you as my girlfriend, FYI,” he told me, as we parked at LAX. “Feel free to refer to me as your boyfriend.” I smiled as I thought of all the conversations I’d had with single girls in LA who had been dating a guy for months and were stressing out because he said he was “not a fan of labels.” I thought about how confused I had been for a while, about who Theo and I were to each other. And he just laid it out for us as if it were part of our itinerary. Boom. Just like that.
This was my first time flying first class. First time in a club lounge at LAX. First time at LAX with a boyfriend who couldn’t keep his hands off of me. First time on my way to a honeymoon with a man who must be out of his mind, wanting to stay married to me when he could have anyone.Hewas the one who should be dating a senator or a rock star.
But there he was, holding my hand as we lounged together in the club lounge, reading emails on his phone, looking over at me every now and then, smirking like he was thinking about me—something dirty. For the first time, instead of worrying about what could go wrong, I focused on just how right this felt, and how lucky I was.
I glanced over at him and saw that he was staring at me, very serious.
“What?”
“I’m going to have to give you a new nickname. Grandma doesn’t quite work anymore.”
“Oh yeah, right. How about Sexy Grandma? Sexy Secret Tax Break?”
“I was thinking Tits Magee.”
I nearly choked on my orange juice. “Think again, sir.”
“Now I can’t stop thinking about them.” His eyes slowly made their way down from my bulging eyeballs to my bulging bra, which was flirtatiously hidden beneath an innocent-looking light summer blouse. “You’re killing me,” he muttered.
