Chapter 16

16

Rory

He loves me.

He said it. Two days ago, back on the ferry. A leeward wind had ruffled in his hair, the faint rock of the boat making him squeeze his arms tighter around me, his feet shifting subtly as we disembarked.

I love you.

D had said it. To me . Tanned forearms around my waist, his lips brushing my neck.

I could feel the double-thump of his pulse. His body reacting. Norepinephrine and dopamine.

The biology that tells us we love someone.

I tug up the collar of my puffy coat closer as I cross the Quad, my stocking hat pulled down to nearly cover my eyes. In the last two days, the entire world has changed. Instead of shorts and sandals, I'm wearing thermals and jeans. I've got snow boots and gloves and wool socks and thermals and my favorite tartan scarf. One that D gave me last year for my birthday—in my favorite colors and pattern. And we've been so busy. Papers and classwork, and everything that comes with graduating soon.

We came back to find IFU in a cold snap. It's unusual for this time of year, but the positioning of Indigo Falls in the Rockies means there are occasionally cold-air dammings. Basically, air masses get lodged against the mountain ranges, making it difficult for warmer weather to intrude.

It's subzero. And it's going to remain freezing for another few days.

I pass the clock tower at the far edge of the Quad, wind filtering between the buildings. I squish my chin down into my scarf. My nose is probably bright red as I pass the library, and I carefully navigate around patches of ice.

I love you .

Why is it so hard to believe that he loves me? That he wants me? That it wasn't just a spring break fling?

My throat tightens, the pilling from the wool scarf tickling my lips.

D's been my best friend for three years. I've loved him for that entire time. How could I not ? His black hair brushing so effortlessly around his ears. His deep brown eyes that always seem to look straight at me. His smile. His confidence and creativity. His love of sandcastles and flowers. He's so open and enthusiastic. The way he loves his family and friends so deeply and completely.

I trudge along, my thoughts churning. It's three-quarters of a mile walk home, and I should probably take the bus to keep warm. Instead, I pass the stop.

Cars idle at the crosswalk as they wait for pedestrians to cross. Water vapor billows from the tailpipes.

I think about the process of engine combustion for another block, running my mind through the configuration of a car's engine. Piston engines are categorized by their cylinders. Wankel engines by the number of rotors.

I'm distracting myself. I know it.

Why can't I just jump right in, like D does? Why does my brain have to vacillate over the complications and difficulties?

I plod through an unplowed section of sidewalk, pushing through with the toes of my boots, as I turn off campus toward the house the four of us share. My throat tightens when it comes into view, my nose numb by the time I reach the steps.

I've dreamed my whole life that a man might look at me like D does. And it was even better because it was him. My best friend. All my dreams sparked into reality.

I slip off my gloves to get my key out and then open the door with shaking hands. A blast of heat wells around me as I step into the entryway. My nose and cheeks sting, my blood vessels expanding.

I set my backpack on the bench before carefully unwrapping my scarf and hanging it on the hook, next to D's coat.

"Heyyyyy, R!" Carter's voice bellows from the couch.

I shrug out of my coat, then push off my snowy boots before reaching down to grab my backpack.

"Wanna jump in?" In the living room, Carter holds up a controller, his face lit in a smile, his eyes sparkling. He's sunburned from our trip, his nose pink. A dark purple IFU shirt pulls tight across his chest as he leans back on the couch, spreading his legs.

I glance around. "Um, sure. Is anyone else here?"

D's coat was on the hook, but he said he was going to be late today.

Carter grins tightly. "Uhhhh… no?"

Noises come from upstairs. Bumps rattle the ceiling light fixture.

Carter winces. "Well, maybe? But why don't you come sit for a few minutes? Take a load off, dude. I've been playing for a while." He reaches for a second controller and holds it up.

I squint at him. "The Xbox isn't on."

"Oh." He presses the central button on his controller to turn on the console. "There we go. What do you want to play?"

More thumps come from upstairs.

I shuffle a step backward, my wool socks picking up static. I know Theo isn't here. It has to be D up there. "What's happening?"

Carter shakes his head. "Nothing, dude."

I swallow and glance at the stairs, my pulse increasing. "Something with D?"

Oh god. So much hits me at once. He regrets it .

I don't know how I go from bumps on the ceiling and Carter acting strangely to ‘D regrets it', but I do.

And it just keeps spiraling from there. Maybe he regrets telling me he loves me. He regrets saying he wants to come to New York. He's got someone else up there. Someone tall and gorgeous and perfect, and everyone else knows about it. Or he's decided he needs to pack up all his stuff and move out, and?—

No . Dorian would never do that to me.

He wouldn't.

He loves me.

" Rory ," Carter cuts into my anxiety. He nods toward the stairs. "Just go up, dude. He's waiting for you."

Heat gathers behind my eyes.

Carter tosses the controller aside. "He said he wanted me to keep you from going up for a few minutes, but I'm obviously doing a shit job. So you should just go up, and—" he winks at me "—see what he's done for you."

My mouth falls open, all the air expelling from my lungs. I blink at the stairs. The top landing isn't visible from where I'm standing.

"Okay," I say to Carter. I take a breath, calming my thoughts, and grip the strap of my backpack, my feet swimming in my socks as I climb.

All the doors are closed except for mine, which is at the far end of the hallway, next to D's room.

I adjust my backpack on my shoulder and slowly walk to my doorway.

When I get there, I come to a stop. My heart lodges in my throat, a breath shooting out.

My room is covered in flowers.

Vases sit on my desk, and my side table, and my window ledge. Plumeria and hibiscus and dahlias and lilies. Wide palm fronds and Xate, which D showed me on the walk up to the bungee platform.

It's like stepping into another world.

Dorian's standing next to my desk. He glances up, my lamp the only light in the room. "Carter was supposed to keep you."

My backpack slides down my arm, and I barely catch it before my laptop thuds to the ground.

"You did this?" I ask, stepping just inside. The smell hits me—sweet and floral. I move around the room, touching each bloom with my fingertips.

"You've been quiet since we've been home." He steps around my desk, following me. He's wearing nothing but a red pair of lounge pants, one of the ties dangling outside, the other tucked in. His shoulders are tanned darker than his stomach, probably from playing beach volleyball. The desk light plays over his abs and muscles as I turn to face him.

"It's fine to be quiet, of course," he continues. "But I thought I would bring some Clua back to us, you know? Like, maybe you need confirmation."

"Confirmation?"

He steps closer, and my knees become weak. My pulse flutters.

Norepinephrine and dopamine. But more than that—oxytocin. The hormone that affects long-term emotional attachment. The one that involves bonding and trust. Attachment.

It's not just surface-level . He's my best friend.

He takes another step closer, and he smells like the flowers, warm and fragrant.

"Confirmation," he says. "That I love you."

Oh god.

Is this real ? Does this get to be my life?

My eyes rove his face. "Is this real ?"

A sadness sweeps through his eyes. They're always so expressive, showing so much.

"I think… you're worried it was just a holiday fling," he says. "That I don't truly love you. That what we had didn't follow us home."

My voice shakes. "How do you know me so well?"

"Three and a half years of friendship? Of being together?" He licks his lips. "Of loving you? Because that's what it's really been. It didn't just happen in Clua. It was there long before that, and it'll keep being there. You can rely on it, Rory. You can rely on me."

Tears squeeze out the corners of my eyes. Oh god, I've been so distant the last two days. I don't know what I'm doing.

But I want him. I want to be with him.

"I love you." I'm starting to shake. I know my body is adjusting from the cold, but it's more than that. It's a release of fear. "I've just been so scared."

"You don't have to be." He's next to me in an instant, his arms wrapping me. We hug, our hearts pounding against each other. My fears start to quiet.

"Thank you," I whisper. "How do you even do this?"

He leans back to look at me. "I know a florist or two."

"You're amazing, D." I slide my hands down the curves of his warm biceps, my thumbs lingering in the creases of his elbows before my fingers find his external obliques. I can't help it. I don't want to stop touching him. "I got something for you too."

I reluctantly release him to grab my backpack. I'd gotten him something back on Clua, but then I became nervous about it. I don't know why, fully. I'd tucked it in the front pocket of my backpack and have carried it around since. I dig it out, still in the small white box the souvenir shop gave me.

I cross back to him, clutching onto the box awkwardly. My gift feels insignificant compared to what he did for me. "It's not as big as yours."

I pause when I realize what I just said. And then we both laugh.

His brows rise. "Since when does bigger mean better?"

"It doesn't," I admit. I take a breath and hold out the box.

He takes it, his smile growing. "I'm going to like this."

"You don't know what it is yet."

"Doesn't matter." He unsticks the tape and then opens the lid, staring down at the bracelet sitting on white packaging foam.

"It's just a small?—"

"It's perfect." He lifts the braided hemp cord, the same color as Cluan sand. Three tiny white cowry shells are twisted into the design.

It reminded me of the beach, the lighter tan sand against his darker skin. He grins and tosses the box aside, wrapping the bracelet around his wrist, the color beautiful against his skin.

"I love it." He's smiling so widely, so happily. "It's the perfect reminder of being there with you."

Tears prick behind my eyes.

He's my best friend. More than that, he's the best friend that I've ever had . In my entire life I've never had a friend like him. I've never had a friend who is so kind and open, who listens to all the random shit I say, all these facts and figures and theories. Who feels like he always sees me .

I don't know if I've messed things up these last two days, but I rush at him. All at once, basically flinging myself. I kiss him. And he kisses me back, not even pausing. My hands skim his bare arms and chest, so eager to touch his skin, and then down. I brush my fingers just above his waistband. His breath catches, his hips moving, and so I let my hand slide down. I cup him. He's not fully hard, but I can feel everything beneath the slick fabric of his shorts.

He's freeballing. His dick twitches under my touch. I take an experimental stroke outside his shorts.

His forehead falls against the top of my head. "Fuck, Rory. I missed this. I'll always give you time, but I've been aching so much for you."

I squeeze lightly, and his stomach moves with his breaths as he watches, his cock starting to pushing up against his elastic hem. He's getting hard, and I'm the cause.

That makes me feel so good.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I got scared."

"That's okay. I told you I'd wait."

"But you probably didn't think it would be right after we got home."

He shrugs a shoulder. "We're here now."

I swallow, my fingers lingering over his cock. I start to pull down on his shorts when he stops me.

"We should probably close the door." He steps around me, closes and locks it, and then walks back to me again. His dark brown eyes study me. "Are you sure you want to do this? If you need time, we could watch a movie or something. Maybe?—"

"I don't need time." My body lights with an acute sense of sexual arousal, my heart rate increasing, blood levels of adrenaline and cortisol rising. It makes my fingers shake as I brush my fingers along his stomach, tracking the central indentation between his abdominal muscles. "Do you need time?"

He shakes his head, his eyes warming. "Nah, I'm good to go."

My fingers slide down to his waistband again, and I tug it down, freeing him. My mouth waters, my heart palpating at the heaviness of his cock, still hardening, his slit peeking out of his foreskin. I stroke him once, carefully pulling his foreskin back, and his breath catches.

"Fuck, that's so good." He gasps as I do it again, then licks his lips. "Show me your little dick, baby."

Oh god, oh god .

I'm already hardening under my thermals and my jeans, and a sense of rightness swells over me. The kind that I had on Clua. The kind that's making those different pathways, blazing neural pathways.

I don't have to be scared.

Being with him is like nothing I've ever experienced before. And I need to keep working on being ready for it. Ready for us .

My hands fall to my jeans. I unzip and push down my thermals. Cool air hits my dick, and I shiver. He takes me in with reverence, wearing this expression that I feel to the tips of my sock-covered toes.

His fingers loop under my chin. "I love you so fucking much. I want to say it over and over. I want you. And I'll keep wanting you. And if you need a day or two to adjust, then that's fine. I will be here."

I nod, closing my eyes and feeling him breathe, feeling his size and warmth, how solid and steady he is. My heart pounds, my insides quiver.

I want to be closer to him. I want to be so close that there's no space between us.

Docking was amazing. Oral is fantastic. Stroking his uncut cock is exhilarating. But I want more.

"I want to go further," I say. "I want the closeness of…" I lick my lips, apprehension tightening in the back of my thoughts, but I calm myself. He wants to be with me .

"Rory," he whispers, leaning back to see me. "Are you talking about penetration?"

I nod. "If you want to. I don't need to, but I?—"

"Fuck, yes ." His irises are dark and intense. "I want that with you. So badly."

"You do?"

"I do." He pulls me closer, his lips by my ear. "I want that with you. I want to feel us together . I want your hot little dick inside me. I want?—"

"Wait." I blink. "Me inside you ?"