Chapter 7

SEVEN

RORY

Another week has gone by and I'm in the art studio working on a painting for one of my classes, enjoying the silence and breathing in the scent of chalk, citrus and turpentine, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I set my brush and palette aside and wipe my hands on my apron before pulling it out of my back pocket.

Jackson: So Lucy and I want to know when we're going to be invited over to hang at your new place and get better acquainted with Mr. Gorgeous McSweetie pants

Me: You can come anytime you want. You know that. Except right now. I'm not home.

Jackson: Yes, we know. We've been standing outside your apartment for five minutes.

Me: Omg! Why?

Jackson: Oh, wait, I see him. He's coming up the stairs. We'll just hang with him until you get here. Smile emoji. Kissy face emoji. Devil emoji.

Me: I'll be there in fifteen minutes! Be nice!

Jackson: No rush. Winky face emoji

Oh, boy. I finish up as quickly as I can and hang up my apron. I have dried paint on my fingers and on my shoe, and probably on my face, too, but I don't care. I scurry out of the studio as quickly as I can and practically run home, flinging the door open when I get inside.

"Hey, I'm here!" I call, out of breath, only to be greeted by the sound of laughter from the next room. I set down my bag and kick off my shoes before making my way into the living area, where Jackson and Lucy are sitting around the coffee table with Parker, laughing over something I missed, heaps of junk food spread out in front of them. I can't help smiling, because they've only been here for a few minutes but they look like they've never been more at ease with each other.

"Hey! Freckles!" Parker cheers when he sees me, and I flush as my two best friends exchange looks, and Jackson turns to me and mouths freckles. "Come sit and join us. Your friends are awesome, by the way."

"Yeah, I know," I say, taking a spot next to him on the floor.

Jackson winks at me and I flush again.

After talking and goofing off for a bit, Parker suggests a game of pictionary. Jackson and Lucy groan.

"What's wrong?" Parker asks.

"Rory is an art major. Whoever has him on their team will win. I can't draw worth shit," Lucy says.

"It's true," Jackson affirms, and Lucy slaps him.

"Ooh, I get freckles," Parker says, shooting his hand into the air, and I flush. "You ready to kick some behind, little dude?"

"Okay, what the hell," Jackson grumbles playfully, and I bring out a large sketch pad and easel from my room.

We use the ever trusty internet to find things to draw, and I go first. Parker starts shooting off random words as soon as my marker hits the paper and they're not even close. I'm laughing so hard I can barely keep drawing and Jackson and Lucy are cackling, too. Parker just keeps going, so enthusiastic he's about to jump out of his seat. I'm so excited when he finally jumps up and shouts, "Jellyfish!" about two seconds before the timer goes off, I shriek and throw myself at him.

"Yes!" I say, my arms wrapping around his thick neck and my legs locking around his waist. He doesn't even budge under the onslaught and it takes me a second to realize what I've done when he stares at me, flushing and grinning, his big arms wrapped around me.

"Sorry," I mumble, sliding off of him and clearing my throat. "Your turn." I hand the marker to Jackson and he gives me a knowing smirk before sashaying towards the easel.

Parker and I win the game by a landslide but Jackson and Lucy are super cool about it, laughing at how badly they are doing. Parker actually isn't terrible at drawing like they are so it was kind of an unfair game, but I'm okay with that. We all had fun, and that's what matters.

"Girl, you know that boy is a catch, right?" Jackson whispers as he and Lucy are saying goodbye at the door that night.

"And so are you," Lucy adds with a smile.

"I know," I tell them, "I mean, I know he is, and I'm starting to believe that maybe I am, too." I look back at Parker as he wipes down the coffee table. "I don't know if I trust myself yet, to find someone who won't treat me like Zach did, you know? I don't want to be wrong again."

Lucy steps forward and gives me a hug. "There's no rush," she says, pulling away, then glances down before meeting my eyes again.

"We wanted to apologize for not saying something to you earlier about Zach. Even if we thought you would be dismissive or anything else, we owed it to you to at least give you all of the information, and let you make the choice, and we dropped the ball. I'm really sorry, Rory."

"We're really sorry," Jackson chimes in.

"Thank you," I say. I had already forgiven them, but it's nice to hear anyway.

Lucy smiles. "But he has serious heart eyes for you, babe. And remember what I said about Zach having a bad vibe?"

I nod, and her smile widens. "None of that here," she says.

I smile back and wave goodbye, shutting the door when they've disappeared.

PARKER

It's a couple of weeks later when I arrive home after my afternoon classes and a group project that took way too long, that I find Rory sitting at the kitchen bar, staring at his phone, ashen faced as he bites his thumbnail.

"Hey, little rabbit," I say, setting my backpack and keys aside and moving towards him. "What's going on? You don't look so good."

"Hmmm?" he says, looking up at me, blinking those big blue eyes. He's dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater now that it's October in Colorado, and he looks absolutely scrumptious. His sleeves are so long they swallow his hands, but I love it. He looks so bite sized and I want to fucking nibble on him.

"You okay?" I say.

He swallows and sets his phone down, wrapping his arms around himself. "Yeah, I," he takes a deep breath in and lets it out. "I just got an email from my doctor, my gastroenterologist actually, and they want me to get some blood work done before my next procedure." He shivers and I open my mouth to ask what's the matter with that when I remember.

"And you don't like needles." He looks at me and shakes his head. "Damn, I'm sorry, freckles. That sucks."

"Yeah." He bites his lip and glances at me, but then looks away again, like he was about to ask me something and then changed his mind.

"You wouldn't want some company, would you?" I ask, and he turns to me, his eyes filled with hope. "I mean, I wouldn't mind if-"

"Yes," he squeaks, then flushes and covers his mouth, with his hand still covered by his sweater sleeve, and I can't help laughing.

"No problem," I say, nudging his arm. Apparently the nudge was more like a shove because he yelps and flails as he slides off the bar stool, and I reach out to grab him when he starts to tip over, gripping the edge of the counter with one hand and my arm with the other. Oops. "Sorry."

"All good," he says, steadying himself and letting out a breath. He shoves his glasses back up on his nose. "I'm scheduling the appointment for the day after tomorrow, if that works. Early morning, because I have to be fasting and I can't eat until I get it done."

"Yeah, that's fine," I say. "Just let me know when we need to be there and I can drive."

"Thank you," he says, giving me one of those adorable as hell smiles.

I fix us dinner while Rory sits at the counter working on a drawing for one of his classes, and then we eat together.

Afterwards, I sit on the sofa while he cleans, and I smile when I hear him humming You Need to Calm Down by Taylor Swift as he works. I look up to see him swaying his hips and moving his head back and forth, and I'm brought back to the night I met him once again, seeing him on that dance floor and being so completely captivated by him.

My chest squeezes at the same time that my dick twitches, and of course that's the same time he chooses to look up and smile at me. Fucking fudge cake, he's making me all gooey inside and I don't know what to do about it. I've never felt so drawn to someone before, never felt so protective over them. But that smile and the way he's dancing also tells me he's doing a little bit better than he was a couple of weeks ago. He's gotten more confident and comfortable in the time that he's been living here, and that makes me happy.

He goes back to his project at the bar after that, and I pop my headphones on so I can listen to music without disturbing him while he works. It's about an hour later when I finally finish my homework for my Physical Education for Children class. I stand and stretch and then head to the bathroom. When I get back out, Rory is gone.

I'm kinda bummed because I was hoping to actually hang out with him a little bit tonight before bed, but oh well. I sit on the couch and turn on the tv, and a minute later I hear his padded feet coming down the hall and around the corner. I can't help smiling when I see him in polka dot pajama bottoms and an oversized T-shirt. On his nose is one of his nasal strips. I've gotten used to them by now and don't bat an eyelash when he wears them.

"Hey, little dude, thought you went to bed."

"Not tired yet," he says, and then to my surprise, settles in right next to me on the sofa instead of taking his usual place on the chair, his knees bent and his feet tucked up underneath him. We're close enough that we're almost touching, and I don't know if that's good or bad because now I just want to reach over and put my arm around him, or hold his hand.

"Another documentary?" I ask and he nods with a grin.

"If that's okay?"

"Of course." I hand him the remote so he can choose. I really don't care what we watch as long as I get to be close to him. I notice that as we're watching the nature documentary he's inching closer and closer to me. Eventually he sighs and rests his head on my shoulder, and a shiver runs down my spine.

"This okay?" he asks, and it's so timid and hopeful my chest squeezes even as my heart is racing.

"Yeah," I croak out. He smiles and turns back to the screen, and I have to will my dick not to react to his proximity. Damn, he smells good, too. Like pumpkin spice and nutmeg. It makes me want to bake something with pumpkin in it. Later though. I'm not moving as long as he's here.

About twenty minutes later I hear him snoring softly, and even though I could poke him or shake him awake, I don't. Instead I scoop him into my arms and carry him down the hall, his head resting against my chest.

I have the hardest time ever setting him down in his own bed, my arms and chest aching with the loss, like Rory is meant to be there, being held by me.

"Night, little rabbit," I whisper, and turn off the light, closing the door behind me.