Status: hiatus until co-author returns(or gives me the go ahead to finish alone.)
Paradise Lost
Seventeen.
In all honesty the last thing I needed was to see Jake. I could do what my mother had insinuated and go tell Jake that I actually did have feelings for him and if he could kiss me a couple dozen more times that would be great—but that would not only totally ruin all that Summer Gemma was but it totally scared the shit out of me. Ordinary Gemma was just a regular shy girl who avoided boys like the plague when she wasn’t in this stupid town. Summer Gemma had just become this person that I had adapted, I had become something I knew I could never be in real life and now here it was to backfire on me…as all lies do.
So instead of coming up with an elaborate speech of how I would let Jake know how I felt about him, I called Jackie. When she answered the phone I could tell she had just risen from her slumber—Jackie was one of the few people I knew who slept like the dead. Literally any time the girl was out there was no waking her; it was as though she were comatose. “Hmm?” she purred into the phone and I could only imagine her with a mop of bed head and raccoon-esque eyes.
“Good morning to you too,” I said with a laugh.
“What do you want, Gemma,” she grumbled into the phone. I could hear the creak of her mattress and the muffled sound of pillow against phone.
“For you to get your ass up and meet me Dave’s,” I said, beginning to remove my pajamas and put on clothes to leave the house in.
“The task your asking me to do is impossible I’m afraid,” Jackie said, sounding as though she was drifting back into her coma.
“It’s actually entirely possible and if you aren’t there in fifteen minutes Morgan and I will show up at your house screaming Celine Dion until you come out,” I said, shimmying into a pair of shorts.
“Oh god, I can hear it now and my ears are already bleeding. Fine, fine I’m up. Do you need me to call Morgan?”
“Yeah, go ahead.” We hung up and I found one of the bralettes I was looking for and clipped it on. After raking my hair back into a ponytail I slipped on some sneakers and headed down the stairs, grabbing money from my designated summer spending’s jar and finally I left. Walking to Dave’s took approximately ten minutes—everything was in walking distance which was one of the many joys of such a small place. The bad thing was there was only a grand total of seven places to go. The ice cream parlor, the beauty shop, the local break-fast only diner, the dinner/wee-hours of the night diner, the liquor shop which invariably no one could get into, and the record store which was connected to the book store but we always counted them as two separate things.
There was hardly anywhere you could go without running into someone you knew. Which meant, naturally, I’d run into Jake.
So instead of coming up with an elaborate speech of how I would let Jake know how I felt about him, I called Jackie. When she answered the phone I could tell she had just risen from her slumber—Jackie was one of the few people I knew who slept like the dead. Literally any time the girl was out there was no waking her; it was as though she were comatose. “Hmm?” she purred into the phone and I could only imagine her with a mop of bed head and raccoon-esque eyes.
“Good morning to you too,” I said with a laugh.
“What do you want, Gemma,” she grumbled into the phone. I could hear the creak of her mattress and the muffled sound of pillow against phone.
“For you to get your ass up and meet me Dave’s,” I said, beginning to remove my pajamas and put on clothes to leave the house in.
“The task your asking me to do is impossible I’m afraid,” Jackie said, sounding as though she was drifting back into her coma.
“It’s actually entirely possible and if you aren’t there in fifteen minutes Morgan and I will show up at your house screaming Celine Dion until you come out,” I said, shimmying into a pair of shorts.
“Oh god, I can hear it now and my ears are already bleeding. Fine, fine I’m up. Do you need me to call Morgan?”
“Yeah, go ahead.” We hung up and I found one of the bralettes I was looking for and clipped it on. After raking my hair back into a ponytail I slipped on some sneakers and headed down the stairs, grabbing money from my designated summer spending’s jar and finally I left. Walking to Dave’s took approximately ten minutes—everything was in walking distance which was one of the many joys of such a small place. The bad thing was there was only a grand total of seven places to go. The ice cream parlor, the beauty shop, the local break-fast only diner, the dinner/wee-hours of the night diner, the liquor shop which invariably no one could get into, and the record store which was connected to the book store but we always counted them as two separate things.
There was hardly anywhere you could go without running into someone you knew. Which meant, naturally, I’d run into Jake.