Chapter 9

9

"D," Rory whispers. "You're squishing me again."

My eyes flutter open. I'm splayed entirely on top of him this time. My chest against his, our skin clammy, my dick snuggled against his inner thigh.

"Aw, shit." I set my hands on the bed and push myself up, hovering over him. He blinks up at me, gray eyes still hazy, lips tipping up in a sleepy smile.

Déjà vu from the morning before, except there's one difference.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask him.

He smiles. "Yes."

"I'm liking that answer." I nip at his bottom lip, and a whimper comes out of him almost immediately, his head tipping off the pillow to get closer as my knees dig into the bed on either side of his.

My vision tunnels. The feel of him below me, the taste of his mouth, the flick of his tongue against mine.

After a few long, languid minutes, I roll onto my back next to him with a low groan that I feel in every part of me. My hand slides down to my dick, and I stretch it to the side, eyelids fluttering.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I didn't know it was possible to be this okay." I let my eyes trail over him, enjoying the view. Red hair against the white pillow, dark gray eyes. How can he not believe that he's sexy as hell?

A beat of silence passes, and then that little wrinkle appears between his brows, and I realize my smile has slipped away.

I lick my lips. "I have something to tell you."

That wrinkle deepens. "Okay."

"I don't know how you're going to feel about it."

He frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"I, uh…" I've been thinking about this. I don't want to keep things from him. "I snuck onto your eReader."

He blinks. "You… what?"

"On the airplane. You got up to go to the lavatory, and I kinda glanced at what you were reading." I really don't know how he's going to take this. "I read about Oliver and Leo."

"You… met Oliver and Leo?" His voice rises. I can't tell if he's mad or hurt or just confused. He still seems to be digesting.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't have an excuse. I just did it."

He's still staring at me, and then his eyes widen, and a blush heats his cheeks.

"What part?" he asks.

"Well…"

He squeezes his eyes shut. "Do I want to know?"

"If it's any consolation, I struggled to follow most of it," I say. "I was reading too fast, and then you came back and…" Here goes. "There was docking."

"Oh god ." His eyes flash open, his cheeks tingeing a deeper pink, which only makes me want to kiss every one of his freckles. "You talked about the ferry docking, and I knew something was strange."

I groan. "I can't believe I said that. I'm not fully sure what docking is, actually."

"Are we actually talking about this?"

"I think it's fantastic that we're talking about it." I inch closer, sliding my leg over the top of his. "Although I really am sorry."

He sighs softly. He's so fucking cute. And he's been doing cuter things since we started kissing. I don't know if he's starting to feel even more comfortable around me? Did he feel uncomfortable before? I hate that he might have. Or maybe it's that I'm letting myself notice more? Regardless, I love the little sigh and nose wrinkle he gives me.

"Honestly," he says, "I felt weird for saying I was reading about electromagnetic wave theory when I very clearly wasn't. So I'm glad you told me."

I breathe out. "You never have to hide what you're reading."

He hesitates. "But you really don't know what docking is?"

"Nope," I say. "I'm hoping it's time for an explanation."

He pauses, swallows, then squints at me. "So, two guys."

I smile. "I'm with you so far."

"And at least one has to be uncut."

"Got it."

"And that one, he…" He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, and it's all I can do to not kiss him again.

"Go on."

"He stretches his foreskin over the head of the other's dick and… they jack off together."

My brows rise. "Like the uncut one swallows the other's dick with his dick?"

He nods, hair sticking out from the pillow with static cling. "It's supposed to be pretty intense. At least, in all the books I've—" He sucks in a breath.

"You've read about it more than once?"

"Uh, possibly?"

"How many have you read?"

"All that I could find?"

I clear my throat. "Because it's something that turns you on?"

His eyes flick down me. It's a quick movement, jerky and fast, then he focuses back on my face, but I definitely saw it. I did more than see it, I felt it. He scoped out my dick. For sure this time.

"You know…" I'm grinning. "I'm uncut."

"I know," he whispers. "You've mentioned that."

"I have?" I'm not sure why I would mention that specific detail, but it must have come up for some reason.

"I guess it stood out to me."

I laugh. I'm smiling so big. But it fades as I stare across at him. There are things I'd like to ask.

"So, your sexuality," I start. "I've never known you to date anyone."

His eyes move around my face. "I'm gay. I've, uh, had a boyfriend before. Before IFU."

Thoughts cross his face. There's so much there, heavy emotions spanning across his features.

I reach out to trap his hand in mine, threading our fingers. "Yesterday, you mentioned a guy. Was it this boyfriend?"

His face blanks. "It's not…" He chooses his words carefully. "It's not anything that you need to worry about."

Jesus, his walls are high. They're so high I didn't even realize they were there . Like he locks it all down inside of himself. Three and a half years, and he's never mentioned this.

"What if you just tell me?" I ask.

"Just tell you?"

"Yeah, why not?"

His lips press. "Are you sure you want to know?—"

"Yes." I nod. "I'm sure."

He scans me. "D… it's hard to talk about."

"That's okay." I squeeze his fingers. "But I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

He bites his bottom lip, considering me, then after a long moment, he nods. "I had this boyfriend in high school. Or at least, I thought he was." He inhales sharply. "He cheated on me. But that's not even what really bothers me. It was what he said."

"What did he say?"

"He said being with me was…" He fights through what he wants to say, each word coming slowly. "He said it was a waste of time. That I wasn't… enough."

Fuck this ex .

I mean, seriously? FUCK HIM.

I've solidified, my shoulders stiff, my elbow pressing into the bed. I try to calm down so that Rory doesn't think there's anything wrong with him. But I'm fit to pop.

"He told me," Rory continues, "that in the beginning, he thought I was cute, but then he grew tired of my freckles, and my hair, and how fucking little I was, and how I talked about nothing important. Random facts and bits of information that no one cares about except me."

"He was wrong," I say.

Rory shakes his head. "Except he really wasn't. I do have freckles, and I am little, and I do talk about random shit."

"No." My throat closes. "He was wrong . I don't even know what he was talking about, because when I look at you?—"

"He was right ." His lips press. "It's not just him. I get comments all the time."

"Then those people are wrong too."

"So, I'm supposed to assume that everyone else is somehow wrong?"

" Yes ."

I can't even begin to contemplate how someone can think that Rory isn't amazing exactly as he is. It just doesn't compute in my head. I look at him, and I see… Jesus… I see everything .

"That's not reality," he says sharply. "It's not logical. If there's a common occurrence, then that repetition needs to be considered."

"Who says?" I zero in on him. "Listen to me instead. You are absolutely, without a single doubt, enough , Rory."

His lips part, his breath shaky.

"D," he whispers hesitantly, but he tugs on my hand, pulling me closer, and I bend forward on my elbow, letting my forehead fall against his cheek.

Fuck, I'm feeling so much. My heart is pummeling, my skin prickling. We're twisted together, a pile on the bed, silently breathing, but inside my head is loud. I think that in all the years I've known Rory, I haven't fully known him. But now, here, I see.

And it makes me feel even more for him.

Maybe we all have this same battle to different degrees. Questions about if we're enough . I have it at times too. Less about my physical self. But my mental self? Yeah.

My struggle to get through school. The times when I've had to read out loud and I can feel people's eyes on me, silently coming to conclusions about me. I've wondered how the world might feel different if I could process information faster.

And part of what's helped me is Rory. Not just him sitting on my bed and studying, but his belief in me. With him, I don't need to be anyone besides myself. I can just be. And he's fine with me .

My throat tightens, and I press my forehead harder against his cheek, feeling him breathe, feeling him sink more against me.

"You're enough, Rory," I whisper. Does he believe me? I don't know. "You're enough for me . Fuck everyone else."

I feel his breath catch. He doesn't say anything, but I know he's listening. And I'll just keep holding on until he starts to believe.