Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 10791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 54(@200wpm)___ 43(@250wpm)___ 36(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 10791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 54(@200wpm)___ 43(@250wpm)___ 36(@300wpm)
“Would you want to watch the time-traveling show I was talking about earlier?” I offered. “We could start at episode one. I don’t mind rewatching.”
“I’d love that.” Continuing to take charge of our evening, Rory cued up the show. When the food arrived, I excused myself to check my pre-meal blood sugar, and Rory plated the food. I appreciated that he didn’t hover or ask what my reading was. He treated the evening less like babysitting and more like friends hanging out.
And as the night went on, that was exactly how I felt, like I was hanging out with an old friend, comfortable and familiar. A friend who loaded the dishwasher and fetched me sparkling water without needing to be asked. A friend who listened to my fact-laden commentary on the show. And a friend who happened to be cute as hell when he yawned and stretched out on the couch. I was still in my chair to avoid any rogue cuddling impulses, a real danger with Rory this close.
“Another episode?” he asked, voice showing signs of the long day.
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch.” I’d been mulling over bedtime arrangements for the last three episodes.
“I promised the nice nurse practitioner.” Rory gave me a pointed look before making a show of arranging a pillow under his head and the cashmere throw my mother had gifted me over his body. His feet stuck out beneath the too-small cover. “I’m fine. See?”
“I meant I have a bed.” My skin heated. “It’s a California king because a queen feels too short for me. We could share.”
“Okay.” Rory drew the word out as he studied me closely. Then, apparently coming to some sort of decision, he stood. “Sharing it is. There’s no way on earth we’re the same size in pants, but do you have a T-shirt I could borrow?”
And so, we ended up in bed, Rory wearing a law school T-shirt of mine, lying on the farthest edge of the bed without being on the floor, pillow tilted away from mine. He was trying so damn hard to keep things platonic.
I don’t want that. The realization slammed into me. Rory would be happy to be friends and would likely never again bring up the awkward question of us dating. We could have an endless string of nights like this one. Or I could take a risk and see what might make those nights even better.
“Rory?” I whispered.
“Yeah?” If anything, he scooted farther away.
“I think I want to go to that event.” When he didn’t immediately reply, I added, “With you.”
“You don’t have to do that.” His voice was the auditory equivalent of a frown. “I told you. I was happy to help you out today. As a friend.”
“I might want to be more than friends,” I admitted.
“Oh.” Rory inhaled sharply. So much hope in that single syllable. “I meant what I said earlier. I’ll wait for you. After I graduate, I might end up working elsewhere if Jillian can’t find funding for a social work position. If you want to wait until we’re not coworkers to date, I can wait.”
“But you shouldn’t have to.” I reached for his hand in the dark. “And I don’t want to.”
“Oh good.” Using our joined hands as leverage, he finally inched more toward me, letting our shoulders touch and his foot nudge mine. “I’m in favor of that plan.”
“Good.” I rolled onto my side. It had been ages since I’d kissed someone and far longer since I’d cared so deeply about getting it right. I leaned in, giving him plenty of time to flee for the other side of the bed again, but he met me more than halfway. I brushed my mouth over his, a soft, sweet introduction.
Rory hummed, a small, happy noise that also thrummed through me. He kissed me back, matching my restraint. We traded leisurely, lovely kisses, no hurry at all. After my blood sugar yo-yo of a day, I doubted sex was on the table for me, but kissing I could do. Besides, I wanted to draw this out, make all the little moments last.
“Rory?” I whispered against his lips. “Let’s make it our last first date.”
“Deal.”
Chapter Five
Rory
“You own a suit.” Marshall greeted me at his apartment door with a perplexed expression. I’d offered to drive, mainly to have an excuse to return here with him after the fundraiser.
“Did you think I was going to wear a Hawaiian shirt?” I scoffed. I did have quite a collection of colorful shirts that met the business casual standards of our office. But for tonight’s classy event, I’d chosen the gray suit I wore to my sister’s wedding with a peachy shirt and vintage silver and black checkerboard print tie. “Besides, I have to match the 1930s theme.”
“You look great.” Marshall locked the apartment door and followed me down the stairs. He’d worn his navy suit as requested, but he’d added a jaunty bowtie with a blue gradient print.