Selfish Machines

I could never be sure why Gemma was so fucking nice to me because honestly, I was never that nice to her.

My train of thought was simple though, she was so nice to me even though I treated her like crap on more than one occasion; so that meant I could get away with it. It was a shitty way to think about things, yeah, but I guess I couldn't help it. And it wasn't like I meant to treat her like shit sometimes, I guess it just...happened.

I was a guy, I didn't think about things the way girls did. I mostly just acted on things I knew would immediately make me happy, almost unable to think about the consequences of my actions. Kinda like the whole Amy situation. She was cute and kinda nice so I immediately wanted to sleep with her. Fast forward two months later and she was the bane of my existence. And even though I knew how much she pissed Gemma off, she still welcomed me back into the big old house with open arms.

She was slipping a tee-shirt back over her rather naked frame as I watched from her bed, sheets tangled around my waist as I thought about how she continually let me back into her life after I always seemed to royally fuck everything up. I couldn't even begin to remember how many times my brother and the other guys would shake their heads and tell me I had fucked this up beyond repair and it would be the last time she allowed me to screw up. I heard their speeches countless times and somewhere in the back of my head I was always confident they were wrong.

"Are you ready for tour?" She asked as she crawled back into bed; she didn't lie down next to me though. Instead she opted to sit cross legged at the other end of the bed, as far away from me as possible. We never stayed close after sex, we didn't cuddle, and we rarely even slept in the same bed afterwards. At least, not after the first time.

"Should be fun," I nodded.

"Especially because Amy won't be there, huh?" She inquired nonchalantly, her head tilting slightly to the side when she was done speaking.

"Oh come on," I rolled my eyes. "She was a mistake, alrigh'?"

"You make a lot of mistakes with girls, don't you?" She continued to press on.

I wasn't sure if she was trying to start a fight with me or not, but I didn't like where this conversation was going. Gemma was the queen at ripping me apart with a simple sentence. She was good at subtle little jabs that she played off like she was just talking about the weather. She talked about almost everything important like she had no emotional attachment to it.

"Do we 'ave ta talk about this?" I sighed.

"I just wanna know why her," Gemma said simply. "What the fuck did you see in her?"

"Honestly?" I raised an eyebrow as I pushed myself into a sitting position, the sheets still around my waist. She nodded. "I 'eard she was pretteh easy from a few people on tour. An' she was cute, I mean, 'er 'air was pink an' it caught my attention righ' away. I jus' figured she'd be a good distraction, but then she started ta get attached an' I guess I jus' thought when tour was over I'd never 'ave ta see 'er again. If I woulda know she was proper crazy I would've jus' used me 'and all tour. I jus' wanted ta get laid."

"You are such a complete and total dude, I swear," she rolled her eyes, pushing herself up off the bed again.

"Where are ya goin'?" I called after her as she began to leave the room.

"To go pack or something, I dunno," she replied lazily.

To make herself feel not so alone in the house, she literally had a room for everything. She kept her clothes in a different room than her bedroom; she had a painting room, a reading room, a room she kept everything she had ever gotten on tour in, etc. After her grandfather passed away and she found out she was receiving everything her grandparent's had ever owned, she immediately felt torn. She had always been slightly terrible at dealing with her emotions properly. Kinda like I was terrible at keeping my word.

I wasn't surprised to find her on the roof after the funeral.

She usually went there when she had a particularly shit day even though she always went on about how completely cliché it was. I saw her there first as I walked to her front door, her legs were dangling off the roof and even though I could only imagine how proper depressed she was at the moment, I knew she wouldn't jump. She might think about it, but she would never actually do it. I was walking across the roof carefully about two minutes later, being sure to not make any sudden noises to scare her.

"They left me everything," she said before I even made mention I was standing behind her.

"What are ya talkin' about?" I asked, shoving my hands in the pockets of my dress pants. I sat down slightly behind her and loosened my tie. She turned around slightly and slowly started to shuffle backward until her back was pressed against my chest; I only smiled as I wrapped my arms around her waist.

"The house, the car, the money, they left it all to me. It's in their will. My grandpa's lawyer called me this morning," she explained.

"Wow," I said breathlessly. "Wha're ya gonna do?"

"I dunno," she shrugged. "I mean, I could sell the house..." she thought out loud. "It's not like I need such a huge house. And it's not like I'm home very much anymore," she sighed, leaning her head back until it hit my chest. She looked up at me then, her face void of almost all emotion. "But I can't sell it. They left me...well, they left me a lot of money. And I can't stand the thought of someone else living here."

"Keep it then," I suggested. "'ave my mum look after it while yer away on tour. An' I'll stop by if yer gone an' I'm 'ome. Everyfhin's paid off. An' like ya said, you 'ave the money ta pay tha bills."

"You have to promise me something then," she whispered.

"Sure," I nodded.

"You have to come stay with me whenever we're both in Sheffield at the same time."

"Deal," I smiled, placing a small kiss on her head.

I always found it particularly hard to get Gemma to tell me when something was bothering her. I always knew when something was bothering her, I just wasn't always sure of the cause of her shit mood. I was sure it was Amy that was the cause of all of her mood as of late, but after she left I just couldn't understand why she didn't get over it. She wasn't there to bother us anymore and yet Gemma was still upset by....something.

"Maybeh ya should stop bein' such a twat around 'er," my brother suggested when I saw him the next day. Drop Dead was opening a new store and we were throwing a huge grand opening. The queue of kids was completely insane.

"I'm not a twat," I grumbled.

"Usually yer not, but around 'er yer always fuckin' somefhin' up. I'm surprised she 'asn't kicked yer arse yet," he went on as we got ready to open the doors. Gemma said she'd stop by, but after she had ignored me for the majority of the day prior, I wasn't so sure she was going to hold through on her promise anymore.

"But I 'aven't done anyfhin' wrong lately!" I groaned, stomping my foot on the ground like a toddler.

"Tom, ya brought a bird over from America an' she was completely mad and ruined your only time alone wiff Gemma. 'ow can ya say you've done nofhin' wrong?"

"'s not like I invited 'er," I defend myself lamely. I was running out of excuses.

"'s the principal of it all," Oliver smiled at me and gave me one good pat on the back. "You'll learn soon enough, mate."

Five minutes later the store opened.

Ten minutes later Gemma arrived, smiling and happy.

And then eleven minutes later I remembered why I was the shitty friend in our relationship.