Selfish Machines

The only reason I knew she was home was because of the internet. The guys from Architects had made it clear over Twitter they were back in Brighton, and I knew Gemma wouldn't leave the big old house if she was back from tour.

Usually I got a text or a call as soon as she was back in Sheffield, but her name was noticeably absent from my phone. At first I was worried something might have happened to her, but I quickly found out from Sam that she had found out about my girl over in the States and that was enough reason for her to ignore me.

"Jus' go ova ta 'er 'ouse," Matt rolled his eyes at me as we played Fifa. "Yer bein' a right twat."

"She's probably pissed," I argued. "I don't wanna deal wiff it."

"Well then jus' stay 'ere an' be miserable," he shrugged. "Don't complain if ya don't wanna fix it."

He made it sound like it was so fucking easy. Like just because I didn't want to deal with Gemma's drama meant I didn't want to see her. In reality, I hadn't seen her in a little over three months and I missed her. I missed seeing her in person (not over video chat or through pictures), I missed touching her, I missed kissing her, I missed hearing her moan my name from under me. At the same time though, not being around her was oddly calming. I think being thousands of miles apart did us good. Missing each other was the only time we didn't fight. It was the only time we each felt the exact same thing towards each other. Missing each other was good for us, I think.

I decided against my better judgment though and took Matt's advice. Thankfully it had stopped raining and so I started to walk over to the big old house. It was actually a rather nice day out and walking through Sheffield reminded me of being younger, of still being in college, the first time things really started to get fucked up between us.

"I fhink 's a terrible idea," I told her sternly.

"He's a nice guy though," she shrugged from her place on her bed. Her blanket was wrapped around her tightly as she just sat there Indian style. I was sitting at her desk chair, leaning back into it and shaking my head at her.

"Maybe ta yer face," I explained. "'e jus' wants ta shag ya though, Gemma."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's used me for sex," she said offhandedly.

The statement was an obvious dig at me and it actually left me rather speechless. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to say to that? I was a 17 year old idiot who once upon a time convinced a girl to let her first time be with me by blatantly lying to her. She found out the truth almost immediately afterwards and hadn't reacted in the way I had thought she would at all. Instead of crying, screaming, or even slapping me, she simply said nothing. She actually never said anything to be about it at all.

Oliver had been the one who told her. He hadn't meant to, I don't think. He had been talking about his first time and then off handedly mentioned my own first awkward time. He had walked in on me and instead of being embarrassed; he had laughed and cheered me on for a few moments before walking back out of my room. Gemma was completely silent. She only glanced over at me shortly, her eyes telling me everything her mouth didn't. And I think that hurt me more than anything. I had never felt like such a fucking asshole in my whole entire live than I did in that very moment.

This was the first time she had ever even mentioned that night, and even so she had done it indirectly. My stomach twisted in a rather uncomfortable manner and I felt my chest tighten a bit at the sound of her words, not because they were harsh, but because they were so hollow and lifeless.

"Well...maybe ya can jus' like...stay wiff me or somefhin'," I finally grumbled a response. She raised her eyebrows and just re-wrapped her blanket around herself.

"Why?" She asked me flatly. The word stung me more than I thought and that in its self surprised me.

"'cause...I-I don't 'ave anyfhin' ta do tonigh'," I shrugged. "An' maybeh we could jus' watch a movie or somefhin'."

I wasn't sure if I didn't want her to go on the date because I truly hated the guy who wanted to take her out and I knew he just wanted to fuck her or because I was jealous, and I wasn't willing to search my mind or heart and find out. So my answer to this was to guilt her into staying at her grandparents' house with me where we would eventually fall asleep next to each other. There might be sex, but I wasn't planning on it.

"You have friends, don't you?" She almost scoffed at me, immediately making me feel stupid.

"Yeah but they're all out at some parteh I didn't feel like goin' ta," I said lamely.

And that's when she said it, "Okay."

My eyes snapped open widely and I eyed her in much of the same manner I had when she agreed to have sex with me for the first time. She was always so simple about these things. Seemingly big decisions to everyone else boiled down to a simple yes or no answer from her. It always surprised me, especially because I knew how crazy things made her, but I never dared to question her thought process.

"Really?" I asked, surprised it had been that simple.

"Yeah, whatever," she shrugged, scooting over and gesturing for me to fall into bed next to her. I did just that, albeit a bit wairly, but soon enough she had turned on the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre and was curled against my chest comfortably. "Hey Tommy?" She asked me softly, about halfway through the movie.

"Yeah?" I murmured, glancing down at her slightly. She kissed me hard on the mouth, not even giving me time to process her action before she was throwing her leg over my body and completely straddling me.

If the third time was the charm, I couldn't even imagine how great the sex would be like the next time around.

If I had to define my relationship with Gemma, I suppose she would be a friend with benefits. After the second time we slept together we easily fell into that sort of pattern. It was easy at first, the transition from being strictly friends to fuck buddies almost came naturally. And then it got all sorts of fucked up. And now I was standing at her doorstep knocking on the big red door in front of me. She took her sweet ass time getting to the door and because of that I was sure she knew it was me standing on the other side of it.

"I know you've been 'ome fer like, a week already," I said as soon as the door swung open.

"Congrats for being a creep," she grumbled with a quick roll of her eyes as she quickly turned around and began walking back inside. I sighed and followed her in, shutting the door on my way inside. The big old house was almost completely dark despite the fact it was the middle of a rather nice day outside. Gemma never opened the blinds and almost never turned on the lights either. It was a quirk of hers I had to very quickly get used too, especially if I wanted to make it back outside in one piece.

"Well ya usually call righ' when ya get 'ome," I explained shortly with an awkward shrug as I followed her into the kitchen. She was wearing nothing more than a pair of panties and an oversized Architects tank top, one that just skimmed the bottom of her ass and just barely covered her chest. I tried to stop my eyes from sweeping over her a few times because I knew she would say something about it, but my efforts were futile. I hadn't seen her in months, after all.

"Well you usually don't have a girlfriend," she shot back at me quickly, going against my thoughts and ignoring my eye-fucking and instead offering a tight lipped and rather sarcastic smile.

"She's realleh not me girlfriend," I sighed, running my fingers through my hair which was slightly shorter than last time I had seen her in person.

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow, a clear invitation for me to continue.

"She's jus'...she's jus' a girl, ya know?"

"A girl who's coming over here to visit you?" She crossed her arms over her chest as her all knowing smirk spread across her lips. I knew by her reaction to my silence that I looked just as shocked as I was feeling. My eyes blinked rapidly as I wondered who had told her. "You know I could give a shit less that you have a girlfriend Tom," she informed me. "It's just I'd rather not you lie to me."

"I never lied ta ya, Gemma," I defended myself.

"Not telling me and lying are sort of the same thing," she stated. "You always do that to me, you know."

I was the one to roll my eyes this time, "Whatever you say." She was always so good at twisting things around to work in her favor. She was way too good at playing the victim and completely dancing around the subject and it always grated on my nerves.

"Oh shut up," she instructed me. "I don't want to be that girl, Tom. If you have a girlfriend I'd like to know so I don't fuck you or something stupid like that and give myself a reputation."
I wanted to tell her she already had a slight reputation, but I knew that would end badly. So instead I opted to say something a bit more intelligent, "Will you still send me pictures of yer tits if ya won't 'ave sex wiff me then?"

Obviously I wasn't the best with words.

"You're such a fucking pig," she grimaced, turning around opening her fridge, grabbing a bottle of vitamin water and unscrewing the cap. "I should tell you to get the fuck out, ya know."

"But you won't."

"But I won't," she confirmed.

She turned around again then, shuffling a few things around on the counter and doing her best to ignore me. I took it as a moment to sneak up on her, wrapping my arms around her waist tightly and pulling her flush against me. She struggled against me for only a few seconds before letting out a long sigh and falling back into me. "Why do you even do this?" She asked, her voice much softer than the sharp tone it once possessed.

"'s not like 's gonna stop me from sleepin' wiff ya," I shrugged.

"You're such an asshole," she said, though there was a smile to her voice. I slowly pushed her hair off of her shoulders and placed my lips on her neck softly. "I was serious about not sleeping with you, ya know," she informed me as she bit her lip softly.

"And I was serious 'bout tha tit pics," I grinned against her skin. She elbowed me in the stomach and I hunched over, my arms crossed against my abdomen as I tried to regain the breath that had been drawn out of me.

"I honestly don't even know why I'm friends with you," she sighed. "What do you want for lunch, dickhead?"