Chapter 12

TWELVE

RORY

Two days later, I'm at the campus bookstore again for my middle of the day shift. Tonight is our gathering with our friends and I'm really looking forward to it, but I have another hour here before I can head home and start getting ready.

It's not super busy but there are a few people milling around while I sit behind the counter, reading.

I've got my head down when I hear a familiar voice. "Hey, Rory. Your guard dog isn't here huh? He let you out of the house by yourself? I thought you were his little bitch. Or is it the other way around?"

My cheeks flush. I tense slightly, but not like I used to when Zach harassed me. I'm calmer, though my heart rate is picking up a little bit. But I don't feel as upset, or scared. His words don't matter anymore. I know the things he says aren't about me. They're about him. No, this time, I'm not letting him treat me like this. I ignore him and hear a snarl.

"Can I help you?" I ask, looking up. He narrows his eyes at me. "Don't you have a boy toy to go stick your dick in?" Woah, I can't believe I just said that, but Zach's cheeks are reddening and I have to admit it's kinda satisfying. "Or did they all get tired of your narcissistic bullshit too?"

He glares, his cheeks getting even redder. "You little bitch," he snarls in a whisper, fists clenched at his side.

"Say whatever you want, but I'm done letting you upset me," I tell him. My heart rate is picking up but I don't stop. "You're a bully and an asshole who's so insecure he tears other people down to make himself feel better. And I let you belittle me, and hurt me for a long time, but not anymore. I know who I am. I like who I am. And your words are just noise. So fuck off."

His eyes widen. He stares at me for a moment, like he can't believe what he heard. "You're such a fucking loser, Rory," he tells me finally, before he turns and stalks away.

"Woah," Parker says, when I tell him about my run in with Zach later that day. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I say, and I find that I'm actually smiling. I was shaking a little bit after he left, but that's worn off now. "I mean, it honestly felt really good to tell him how I felt."

Parker grins at me, then kisses my forehead. He's frowning though, when he pulls away. "Are you safe?" he asks. "I mean, he wouldn't hurt you, would he?"

I shake my head. "No, he's an asshole but he isn't violent. I don't think I have to worry about him anymore."

Parker grins again. "I'm proud of you."

I smile wider. "I'm proud of me, too."

I've got the main lights turned off and the living area illuminated by lamps only. It helps with me not getting overstimulated, and honestly I think it works better for the vibe.

We've got snacks set up on the bar and drinks in the refrigerator. Everyone showed up, but Lucy and I were exchanging looks when Jackson and Preston arrived together. They told us they ran into each other in the hallway on the way up here, but they both look a bit flushed, and Jackson's hair is messier than I've ever seen it.

I think back to when Parker and I saw the two of them at the Halloween party, and then a couple of weeks ago when Jackson was hanging out with Lucy and me, and left in the middle of the movie we were watching because he had "somewhere he had to be." At midnight.

"Are they….?" I ask her as we stand in the kitchen sipping our drinks. I mentioned the situation with Zach to her too, and she beamed with pride.

I have a soda and Lucy has sparkling water. I think the stuff is nasty but she loves it so I always have some for her when she comes over.

She shrugs. "He hasn't told me anything. But, I have a feeling something is going on between them. He's been secretive lately, texting someone and then hurrying off. Remember a couple weeks ago?" I nod.

"More of that stuff. We were hanging out the other day at my place and he just up and told me he had to leave out of nowhere and then scurried away like his pants were on fire. He's been acting weird since the Halloween party."

I raise an eyebrow and we both look in Jackson's direction. He's in the living room, laughing with Parker at the moment, but Preston is nearby, and the way he looks at my friend tells me he's either getting some, or wishes he was. "They were kinda friendly that night, remember?" I say. "Parker and I saw them."

She hums. "Speaking of bed partners," she says, a grin growing on her face. Oh, no. "Have you and Parker….?"

My cheeks heat. "Ahhh!!" She squeals, "I knew it."

"Shhh," I hush her, and she laughs. "Jesus, I don't need the entire apartment building knowing."

"Sorry," she says. "I'm just super happy for you. He's a really great guy."

"I know," I say, my gaze straying back to him. He's got all of his friends and Jackson laughing now at something, and they're slapping his back.

"Oh, honey," Lucy says, "you've got it bad."

I sigh and take another sip of my drink as I watch Parker take a seat on the couch and pick up a Nintendo Switch controller. Chris sits next to him and then I hear him say, "Get ready to cry, mother fucker." Then, "Winner keeps playing. Loser hands the controller to the next person."

"I know."

"Does he know you want more?"

I shake my head.

"Why haven't you told him?"

"It's too soon," I say. "I don't want to scare him off. And I know I'm not the easiest person to date."

She frowns. "That's your idiot ex getting in your head again. Jesus, I hate that he made you feel that way about yourself. The right person isn't going to make you feel like you owe them for being in a relationship with you. I've seen the way Parker looks at you, babe. And he's taking you to get an endoscopy, and didn't you tell me he took you to get your blood drawn?"

I nod, biting my lip.

"That doesn't sound like someone who is upset or overwhelmed by making sure you're taken care of. He's crazy about you, Rory. I don't think there's anything you could do that would scare him off."

She snatches her third chocolate chip cookie and takes a huge bite, then grins at me. "Besides, he makes cookies better than my grandma, so he's definitely a keeper."

I smile, and she winks at me, before we head into the living room to join the others.

It's not until after I've finished my turn playing against Parker in Mario Kart, and losing epically, that I realize Preston and Jackson are nowhere in sight. And thank god for my earplugs, because I never realized a game of Mario Kart could be so loud. I'm managing so far, but I'm guessing I have about another thirty minutes in me before I need to kick people out. I figure I can get a break in the bathroom and pee, so I make my way down the hall, only to stop when I hear raised voices from the other side of the door.

"I'm sorry, I just, it's hard, okay?" Preston's voice.

"Look, this is why I didn't want to come. It was risky enough showing up here together, and I don't think Lucy and Rory bought for a second that we ran into each other on the way up. You can't be touching me, or fucking looking at me like that, not here. Not in front of them. Or they'll definitely know something is up."

"It would have been riskier to both not come. How do you think that would look? I don't understand why it's such a big deal anyway, if they know." Preston sounds absolutely crestfallen.

"Because we agreed it would just be casual. Hooking up. That's it. I don't need it announced."

There's silence before Preston speaks again. "Fine. I'll leave. That will make it easier. Then you can enjoy the evening without worrying about me."

Fuck. I scramble across the hall to my room and shut the door before I hear the bathroom door opening.

"Preston, wait, I didn't…" I hear Jackson saying, and footsteps moving down the hall.

Holy shit.

The weekend passes and before I know it, it's the day of my endoscopy. It's nothing new to me. I've been having them since I was a kid, so I'm not nervous about the procedure itself, just the IV that they'll give me beforehand. The procedure only takes about ten minutes, and they put you to sleep. Then I'll be home the same day and might have a bit of a sore throat, but other than that I'll just be groggy from the anesthesia. I started a different medication a few months back, right before I met Parker, and the doctor wants to see how it's working, so they'll take a look inside and check my esophagus and stomach for anything abnormal or anything that would indicate the medication is not working.

"Ready?" Parker says, poking his head in my room. Ever since we started sleeping together I don't close the door anymore when I change unless there's someone else in the apartment. I'm wearing a pair of sweats and a loose fitting T-shirt, so that I'm comfortable. I'm also fucking starving because I haven't been able to have anything but clear liquid since noon the day before.

"Yeah," I tell him. We grab our coats off the hooks by the front door and slide our shoes on, then make our way through the snow to Parker's car. It's been a bit since we had fresh snow, but there's a few inches of it covering the grass, and although the sun is shining there's a bit of a breeze this morning, and the winter chill bites at my face as I crunch through the parking lot. I shiver once I'm in the car, and Parker turns on the defroster before pulling out of the parking lot.

It's about a forty minute drive, and I spend the first ten shivering until the heat finally warms up enough.

Parker chuckles. "You still cold?"

"I'm always cold," I tell him. He has his coat, which isn't anywhere near as thick as mine, unzipped, and he has all of the air vents aimed at me. "Shit, are you hot?"

"Nah, it's fine. I don't want you to be cold."

God, this guy. Always putting me first. It's overwhelming sometimes, and there are times where I don't feel like I deserve it, or wonder if he can even be real because he's just too damn amazing and he makes me feel more worthy and beautiful than I ever have before.

I'm picturing us making the trip to my parents' house for Thanksgiving with him in shorts and a T-shirt so he doesn't get too hot, and me in layers so I don't get too cold, and it makes me chuckle. I start laughing harder until I snort, then cover my nose and mouth with my hand, my cheeks heating. He just looks at me with a grin and says, "I love your laugh."

He tells me to play some music and I turn on Taylor Swift, then start singing along and dancing as much as one can in their seat and he grins at me again. "You're too stinkin cute," he says, and I smile. I flush when he reaches over and takes my hand, making my body erupt in goosebumps. Fuck, why is that simple act making my brain short circuit? We've held hands before when we're sitting on the sofa watching tv, but this feels different. He squeezes my hand.

"This okay?" he asks, and I nod, unable to form words. "I really like you," he says after a moment of silence. "I just want you to know that."

I swallow. I've never had anyone say that to me before. It feels amazing, and the fact that I know I can trust him, that he treats me well, that he cares for me, and has never done anything to hurt me or take advantage of me, makes it mean even more. My chest squeezes and I have to keep the tears from filling my eyes. It takes me a moment to form words, but I squeeze his hand and say, "I really like you, too."

His smile is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

PARKER

I'm still holding Rory's hand when we arrive at the surgery center forty minutes later. I do have to let go in order to park and get out but I slide my hand right back in his as we're making our way through the parking lot and along the sidewalk to the front door. We take the elevator up to the second floor and go inside. There's a small waiting room with several people already here, and I have a feeling we might be waiting a while.

Rory signs in and we take our seats. He texts his mom to let her know we're here and then his hand is finding mine again, and I grin. I was going to do some homework on my laptop, but since my hand is occupied I decide to scroll through social media for a bit instead, and he does the same. We share funny videos and memes with each other and then Rory starts reading something on his phone.

After another half an hour they finally call Rory's name, and he stands with his hand still clasping mine.

"Can my friend come?" he asks, and I feel his palm sweating and the tremor that moves through his body. Poor little dude. He is so terrified of getting the IV I'm afraid he'll hyperventilate or something.

"Sure," the nurse, a small Asian American woman says, and waves us back. She leads us to a curtained off area with patients on both sides and tells Rory to sit on the bed while I take a seat in the chair nearby. There's so little room I have to try and make myself as small as possible. They instruct him to change into the hospital gown they have laid out on the bed and he strips out of his T-shirt and slides it on, shoving his shirt, shoes, phone, and glasses into a bag and handing it to me. When the nurse returns she asks him a million questions about his health history, and he doesn't seem to mind answering them in front of me. I'm surprised to find I know most of it already. She tells him they'll get the IV going when she's finished with all of his information and he murmurs, "Yay, my favorite part."

I raise an eyebrow. "I thought you hated needles. You're shaking like a leaf."

He looks at me and blinks, then squeezes my hand. "I am," he says. "I was joking."

"Oh." My cheeks heat. "Right. I knew that."

He chuckles and at least my ignorance gave him a reason to laugh, so I'll take it.

"You're afraid of needles?" the nurse asks. Rory nods, and she says she'll take good care of him and recline the bed so he doesn't pass out.

His hand is still gripping mine when he's reclined and all the questions have been answered, and I squeeze again. His face has gone slightly pale and I use my other hand to stroke his arm, trying to soothe him as best I can.

"You're okay," I tell him as the nurse preps him for the IV. "You're going to do just fine."

He nods, taking a deep breath and letting it out. He makes a fist with his hand when he's told to and hisses slightly when the nurse applies the tourniquet.

"You okay?" she asks, with a soft smile and kind eyes as she moves her finger along his arm, tapping, searching for a vein.

Rory nods but he's trembling.

"Hey, look at me," I tell him. He does. "You got this. You're so brave, little dude."

"Okay, here we go," the nurse tells him. I squeeze his hand and feel his body tensing and another hiss leaving his lips, but he does it.

"It's in," the nurse says. "Worst part is over. You did really well, sweetie." She tapes it on the inside of his elbow and tosses everything in the trash.

Rory closes his eyes for a minute, his hand tight around mine. It's several more moments before he relaxes and looks at me.

"Thank you," he says, his voice soft. "I'm really glad you're here."

"Me, too," I say.

It's a while later that the doctor and the anesthesiologist come by to talk to him, and a while after that before the nurse comes by again and tells me it's time for me to head out to the waiting room and that they'll let me know when Rory is awake and ready to go home.

I nod and stand, pressing a kiss to his forehead before I walk away. I've been texting Rory's mom this whole time, letting her know he's been doing fine. I update her once I'm back in the waiting room, and she thanks me profusely for the millionth time for looking out for her baby boy.

Rory is finished not long after that and I can't help chuckling when I drive around to pick him up, and he's so loopy that nothing he's saying makes sense. He repeats himself half a dozen times, saying something about cats and rainbows before moving on to one word.

"Food," he says. Then repeats it when I ask him where he wants to eat.

"I can make you something," I say. "Or I can pick something up after I drop you off at home."

He licks his lips and then hiccups loudly, and I chuckle again.

"Ow," he groans. Then hiccups again.

Since he hasn't answered my question yet, I ask again. He looks at me like he isn't sure who I am, blinking several times as he stares. "I'm hungry. And thirsty."

"I know," I tell him. "What do you want?"

He looks like he's considering it, then says, "Food," again. "I'm hungry. And tired. They never give you enough time to sleep after those procedures, you know? They're practically slapping you awake and yelling at you to get the fuck up and get dressed already. Not nice." He yawns. "I'm tired."

"Twenty more minutes. You can sleep now if you want."

"Oh, good," he says, resting his head back against the seat. "Cuz I'm tired."

I look over a few minutes later to see him asleep, his mouth hanging open and a small bit of drool sliding down his chin.

When I park the car in the apartment parking lot twenty minutes later, he's still passed out, so I climb out and go around to his side. I open the door and scoop him up, holding him to me and closing the door with my hip before carrying him inside. I struggle a bit, trying to figure out how to get inside with him in my arms, but manage somehow. I make my way through the living area and to my bedroom and lay him in my bed before sliding his coat and shoes off, and tucking him in.

I make some chili while he sleeps, and when he wakes he's a bit more lucid and more than ready to eat. We snuggle up on the sofa and watch a documentary on Amazon Prime titled Secrets of the Octopus .

"You feeling okay?" I ask him, breathing in his scent and feeling his curls tickling my chin. He nods.

"Fine, just a little sleepy still."

He makes it through the documentary before he's nodding off on my shoulder, and I help him to bed.

Lying next to him that night I card my fingers through his curls as he snores softly, his nasal strip in place, kitty cat mask over his eyes, and his glasses on the nightstand next to him.

I can't help thinking how much better my life has been since I met him, since he moved in with me. How lucky I have been to have known him, that he's willing to share any part of his life with me, that he wants to be with me in any capacity at all, because I know he doesn't have to be.

I can't help thinking about what it does to me to have him sharing my bed, waking up next to him every morning, seeing that smile. I can't help thinking that I don't want to ever wake up to anything but his small body curled up against mine and his curls tickling my face. I don't ever want to wake up and not see those glasses on the nightstand or him wrapped in one of my T-shirts.

I don't know how long it's supposed to take to fall in love with someone, because I've never been in love before. But I think, maybe when you find the right person, it takes hardly any time at all.