Part 14 (1/2)
Jemma stifled a yawn. ”I'm just gonna finish my typing here and then sleep. I'm still feeling pretty drained from earlier.”
”Same here,” sent Jack. ”I'll see you tomorrow, around my normal time.”
”Good night, Jack,” she said, turning her focus back toward the computer screen.
”Good night, Jemma.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:.
Testing 123 Jemma stared intently at her computer, her thoughts focused mostly on the patron she could see in her peripheral vision.
She sent Jack a quick message. ”We're just sticking with saying, 'Hey,' right?”
He mentally answered from the balcony. ”Yep. You try the one you picked, then help me find someone here who is with a guy. I think you were right that this helps our chances of staying hidden if they do hear us, having someone to blame it on.”
”Right. Okay,” she sent.
Keeping her eyes trained on her monitor, she pictured the patron she was trying to Talk to. She pictured the blonde pixie cut, the blue jeans and black b.u.t.ton-up top, the cowboy boots, blocking out the redheaded woman the patron stood next to.
”Hey,” she tried to send, but there was nothing. She didn't hear the echo she did when she sent things to Jack, and she didn't see the woman respond. She tried one more time, just in case: ”Hey.”
Nothing.
”No luck, Jack,” she sent. She saw the patron she'd tried to Talk to coming toward her. ”She's coming this way. She has books, so she's probably just checking them out.”
”Okay,” Jack sent. ”I'm keeping an ear out.”
”h.e.l.lo,” Jemma typed on the tablet as the woman reached the counter, her friend right behind her with her own books. ”Ready to check out?”
The woman nodded and handed Jemma her library card. A quick scan revealed her name was Hannah. Jemma checked out her books, and then Hannah stepped aside to let her friend check out.
”Hi,” typed the redhead, looking excited about seeing the tablet, and Hannah rolled her eyes at her friend, smirking. ”So,” she continued, ”who were you Talking to when we came up?”
Jemma blinked rapidly, and she felt Jack send an intangible reminder that he was nearby and that she could handle herself even if he wasn't. She made a mental note to figure out how she'd picked that much up from a single pulse of emotion, then typed.
”Sorry. I was thinking,” she wrote, the closest she was comfortable to an outright lie; she had definitely been thinking.
”Okay.” The woman shrugged, and Jemma continued with the checkout process.
As the women walked away, Jemma added Hannah's name and reading material to her mental image of the woman, combining that with her visual and trying once more.
”Hey.”
Still nothing.
”Don't think we can Talk to strangers,” she sent to Jack.
”Bad habit to get into, anyway,” he said with another of his mental winks. Jemma smiled and shook her head before remembering her Talking had been more obvious than she'd thought.
”We might need to be more careful about Talking in public,” she sent. ”Either that or I need to practice in front of a mirror and see what my face shows.”
”You tend to show everything on your face,” sent Jack. ”That might be a hard habit to break.”
”I do?” Jemma thought of herself as a bit more closed off than most.
”You do,” he sent. ”I mean, you're quiet, yeah, and you seem like you keep your guard up in public, but as soon as you're talking to someone, it's like you're fully there, and your face shows everything you're feeling, for someone who's watching.”
Jemma rubbed the back of her neck, then caught herself, dropping her hands and working on keeping a neutral face. ”I'll practice anyway. It's that or stop Talking at work.”
Jack sent a mental shrug. ”If we let people know we're friends, it's not a big deal, right? Then we don't have to hide it?”
”I haven't heard of friends who can Talk after this little interaction. I don't really want it to look like I was hiding the fact that I was spending a lot of time with you, you know?”
”I understand. I don't want to ask you to be more dishonest than we need to be for now,” he sent.
”If we are going to stop hiding that we can Talk,” she said, making sure her gaze was fixed on the monitor, hands over the keyboard as if she were trying to figure out what to type, ”we may as well go with a more plausible story. Cecily, at least, won't buy that we've been hanging out in secret. She knows I go home to my books.”
”What's the more plausible story?” His tone suggested he might know but didn't want to be the one to mention it.
”We could pretend we're dating. People tend to Talk much sooner if they're dating.”
”You don't sound very comfortable with that.”
”Hold on,” she said, catching a glimpse of someone walking toward her. She helped the patron quickly, taking another moment to think before Talking to Jack again. ”If we pretend to date, that means we pretend with my family, too. I don't know whether I'm ready for that. They mean well, but they get a little too excited when they hear I'm dating. I stopped telling them anything unless it went further than one date.”
”How many times has that happened?” Jack sent mild curiosity along with the question.
Jemma's looked toward the ceiling as she counted. ”Three since high school. It hasn't been a primary focus at any point in my life.”
”It's good that you've followed your own path,” sent Jack. ”I know a lot of people who would have just given into the pressure.”
”My parents push, but they aren't... I mean, they like that I'm myself, you know?” Jemma glanced around to make sure n.o.body was watching her, then returned her attention to the monitor. ”They want me to be happy. They just don't always understand what makes me happy. If I ever came out and said I was gay or didn't have any interest in romance, I believe they'd support me. Since I wouldn't mind being with the right someone, they still bring it up, have trouble understanding that even though it isn't something I'd mind, it's not something I need either, you know?”
Jack sent acknowledgment but didn't immediately reply. ”That's good to have,” he said finally, ”that kind of family. Dad's great - you'll see tonight - but I get envious, sometimes, of bigger families, bigger support systems.”
Jemma sent a wave of sympathy, then paused as something occurred to her. ”How are we talking tonight? With your dad, I mean? a.s.suming he and I can't Talk.”
”I haven't really had to deal with that,” Jack admitted.
”My family keeps phones at the table. They used a whiteboard for a while. Or you could translate,” Jemma suggested.
”I'll offer them all to Dad and let him pick, if that's okay with you. Sometimes his hand cramps up, but he hates when I speak for him, so it'll depend.”
”How's he doing today?” Jemma sent. ”Is this going to be too much?”