Chapter 5

5

"D, you're squishing me." Rory's voice is close, and I blink my eyes open, trying to sort out where I am.

Shit, I'm splayed over him. My chest halfway covering his, my thigh between his legs, my nose nestled in the crook of his neck.

I am squashing him. He attempts to take in breaths, my weight too much.

"Fuck, sorry." I prop up on one arm, my knee coming to rest between his thighs. I'm hovering over him, trying to adjust to reality.

His hair is red against the pillow, his gray eyes looking up at me. They widen as I stare down at him—he seems really alert. I'm not there yet, still in a haze of whatever I was dreaming about. But, holy Toledo, I'm prickling awake everywhere now.

A breeze drifts through the sliding door I forgot to close, cooling across my chest and playing with the strings on my sleep pants. They're dangling down, brushing on the stomach of his tee.

He shivers. Maybe from the breeze? His gaze darts down me, then his lips part, his breath stopping.

I follow his view.

Ohh fuck. Really?

I'm seriously tenting my pants.

Like very obviously. My dick's pushing over the elastic, my head jammed against the fabric so firmly that the outline is clear. There's even a spot of pre-cum soaking through.

Jesus.

I crawl off him, gritting my teeth as my dick brushes lightly against his hip. I push my ass back, trying to keep the distance, and settle on my back, scrubbing a hand over my face. I stare up at the ceiling.

What the fuck did I do now ?

It's like I'm dead set on making this entire trip as awkward as possible.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"It's fine," he whispers. "I've kinda got one too."

That's not helping. I blow out a breath.

"It's just…" He pauses. "Not as evident as yours."

"What?" He's talking about his boxers or his…

"It's not… I'm not…" He bites on the inside of his cheek, staring up at the ceiling. He blushes, then he covers his face with his arm.

There's so much tension rolling off him.

He sighs, speaking against the crook of his elbow. "It's nothing, just leave it."

"Leave what?" My forehead lines. I'm not following.

He pulls in a slow breath, then he drops his arm and turns to look at me.

The indirect sunlight creates a glow on his cheeks, lighting his freckles, his lips, the long sweep of those dark red lashes. A blush runs across the top of his cheeks.

"It's just…" He presses his lips hard. "We're just different. And sometimes I forget that, but then something reminds me."

"We're different?" I repeat.

"Come on, D," he says tightly. "Don't pretend that you don't understand what I'm talking about."

I blink. We're talking about… dick size? I think so? Or maybe something more encompassing than that? Body image?

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," I say.

"Look, you don't have to coddle me." His words sharpen. "I know what I am and what I'm not."

"Do you?" I say then bite down on my molars because that sounded like a challenge. I'm just surprised.

"I know ," he says, his jaw tightening. "And there's no changing it."

"Rory—"

"Please, D. I'm done talking about this. It's embarrassing. Let's just go enjoy the beach." He rolls away, his back to me as he sets his feet on the floor and then heads to his dresser. "I bet Carter and Theo are waiting for us."

I can't stop thinking.

I inhale a deep breath of salty air as we walk toward the beach, stopping on the boardwalk to look at a couple of touristy shops. I thumb through the hats, not really noticing what I'm looking at, while Carter and Theo pick out t-shirts, and Rory mostly hangs with them.

He hasn't spoken to me much since we left the room.

I still can't fully wrap my head around our conversation. He seemed so hurt and embarrassed and angry. And I should have done a better job telling him that he has nothing to worry about.

It hurts that he might feel like he's anything other than amazing. Like seriously, my heart fucking hurts. I've never once had a negative thought about his body.

We've never talked about body image before, I don't think. It seems like I would remember if we had? Especially if there are aspects of himself he struggles with. And something like dick size… if that's what he was really talking about? I would have remembered that conversation.

Jesus, I'm sure he's perfect, however he is. I mean, of course he is. Everyone is.

And if he is smaller, well…

Why does he assume that's a problem?

It's definitely not a problem for me. I love smaller dicks, and I'm sure there are other people out there who agree. Being able to take a dick fully in my mouth, to bury my nose in the smell, to feel the weight against my tongue. It's only happened once that I've been with a guy rocking that size, and I couldn't get enough. It was so hot.

Maybe I should say something about that? Although, randomly blurting out that I like smaller dicks in a Cluan t-shirt shop sounds like an intensely uncomfortable moment. I'd do it anyway, but the last thing I want is for Rory to feel called out.

I toss a ballcap back on the pile and then wait while Carter buys a few things before we head out, crossing over the boardwalk and onto the deep sand. The sun is hot on my shoulders.

When we find a good spot with a view of the water, Rory carefully spreads out his towel. His vertebrae rise faintly along his spine as he bends, his hair falling forward, brightly copper in the sun. His ass is facing me.

I inwardly groan and pull off my shirt before reaching for the sunblock. I slather it on, trying like hell to stop watching him out of the corner of my eye as he does the same, although he keeps his shirt on, before he settles on his towel. Theo drops next to him. They've been chatting non-stop about sea turtles, both of them seeming pretty into the conversation.

Carter slaps me enthusiastically on the shoulder. "Volleyball, D! Let's go!"

"Alright," I say.

He's already jogging toward the nets, wearing some ridiculously tight board shorts with bananas all over them and yelling, "Come on! You're sloooooow."

I still pause.

I step toward Rory. I want to say so much to him. I want to rewind to earlier today, and I want to say the right things when we were still in bed.

I hook a thumb after Carter, my shadow leaning over him and Theo. "We're going to play volleyball. Wanna come?"

Rory hardly looks at me. "I'm happy here."

My heart deflates a little. "You sure?"

"I'm sure." He finally looks up at me, and his eyes look so fucking amazing out here in the sharp sunlight, this stunning slate gray, framed by those long, deep red lashes. All of him looks good—those brilliant freckles, his lean legs stretched out on the towel, sticking out from his geometric patterned shorts.

Do I tell him that?

I picture myself doing that. Hey R, you look hot. I don't know what you meant back in the room, but you're exactly as you should be.

"D!" Carter bellows from over by the nets.

I groan. "Hold onto your dick, bro."

"I am," he hollers. "But even that's getting boring."

Rory blinks up at me, that wrinkle appearing between his brows. "Are you going to go?"

"Uh, yeah," I say. "You know… you look good."

His eyes widen slightly. "What?"

"I mean, in the sun. You look nice. Your hair is shiny."

He glances over at Theo, who's looking at me weirdly, his bright blue eyes squinted.

"Thanks?" Rory practically squeaks out.

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

What am I saying? I think of his expression this morning. And the one last night in the bathroom. I think of the way he looked at me on the plane, and how he tilted his reader away. I think of that look he gave me three weeks ago, his eyes simmering down to my mouth. And I think about three and a half years of friendship, where it's sometimes felt like we act like more than friends, even though nothing has ever happened between us.

What if all that is related? What if we're standing on the edge of something, but both of us are too scared to jump?

I lick my lips, and then I drop to my knees on the sand. I lean by Rory's ear, so it's just me and him, Theo not close enough to overhear. My heart's pounding, but I need to say it.

Maybe he needs to hear it.

"You're exactly as you should be, Rory." I close my eyes for half a second. I don't know what I'm feeling, but I'm feeling it hard . "You're perfectly you . And that's enough for me."

I push up to my feet.

Rory stares up at me, his eyes really wide now, his mouth dropping open.

I don't know what else to say, so I give him a last smile and then turn to jog after Carter.