When In Rome...Find Yourself: A Sweet New Adult Romance (15 page)

“I can’t see without them.”

“Can’t you get contacts or something?” Kristina slipped the glasses from Rory’s nose and, Rory assumed, scrutinized her. She couldn’t make out anything but a blurry blob where Kristina’s face was, so she couldn’t read her expression. “How bad is it?” Kristina asked. “Think you could make it through an evening at the club? I mean, it’s dark in there, anyway, so it’s not like you could see much.”

“No,” Rory said, swiping for her glasses. She fumbled them from Kristina’s hand and slipped them on. “I’m fine. I don’t even care about meeting a guy.”

“Don’t tell me you’re moping about Ned.”

“No, I’m just…not ready for that.”

“For what?”

“You know. Being in love again.”

“I just got dumped, and trust me, you’ll never be ready until you do it. When did you get dumped?”

Rory didn’t want to admit it, to tell them the truth. That it had been two years since she’d dated, if you could even call it that. After that first show, when Patty had told her in class with obvious relish that she’d freaked out the band’s lead singer, she had been humiliated. That obviously meant she wasn’t invited to hang out with them again. Only…she had been. Patty said Jack was a tool anyway, but a good friend, and not to worry about what he thought.

“Besides, you have to come with me next time, or it will be too obvious that I’m stalking Josh,” she said. And so, Rory had gone with her. She’d gone with her to see every Jack of Spades show, and she’d eaten with her in the dining hall and gone shopping with her at thrift stores. They’d even gone on a few road trips to Little Rock to watch the band play.

It was during one of these when Patty disappeared with Josh after the show. The hotel was just a few blocks away, so everyone knew that was where they’d gone. “She finally got him,” the drummer’s girlfriend said. They hung out at the bar after hours, until almost four in the morning. Then they walked back to the hotel. The few groupies who had hung around had long ago given up and left. The band wasn’t big enough to have real groupies, though they had their tiny fan base around the university.

The only people who had driven the three hours for the show were the band members’ girlfriends and a few friends who served as roadies, all of whom were used to Rory hanging around in silence by then. Patty assured her she was as much a part of the group as any of them, but she never felt it. She knew she was always an outsider, sneaking in under the radar. If someone noticed her, they’d tell her to get lost. She was sure of it.

The drummer and his girlfriend walked back to the hotel with Jack. Everyone else had left already, some driving back to Fayetteville that night, some staying with friends or in the hotel.

Rory hovered around them like a mosquito, waiting. She’d been waiting all night, just like she’d been waiting for three months before that night. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was waiting for—someone to boot her from the group, or someone to invite her in. When they reached the hotel, they had a short argument about whether they could swim before the pool opened, but they ended up in Jack’s room smoking pot instead.

Stoned out of her mind, Rory had finally worked up the courage to rub Jack’s back for a minute. He didn’t respond, so she stopped, burning with anger at herself. Not that he didn’t already know she liked him. Patty had assured her that Jack knew, but that Rory wasn’t his type. Rory had seen his type. He went home with plenty of girls after shows. But that night, he hadn’t taken a girl back to his room. He’d taken her back.

Well, technically she had followed him and his friends back to their room, but he hadn’t objected. He hadn’t invited her in, but he also hadn’t kicked her to the curb. After a while, the drummer and his girlfriend got in the shower together. And then it was just Jack and Rory, staring at each other. She had been wildly in love with him for months, but she realized then that she had nothing at all to say to him. They talked, sure, but always with other people around. She wasn’t sure if it was the pot or their lack of actual familiarity with each other that rendered her speechless.

Jack turned to her and kissed her. The whole time, she kept worrying that the couple in the shower might come out, or that they’d hear them. But Jack didn’t seem worried. They made out for a while, and then he asked if she had a condom or was on the pill. She didn’t, and she wasn’t. Jack turned off the light, and they got in bed and made out a while longer. And then Jack said, “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

She had been sure her skin would peel off in layers she was so hot. Luckily, he couldn’t see exactly how red she was, since the only light was the glow coming in the window from outside. But she’d done something, had been so obviously inexperienced that he’d guessed. Patty had already asked her once, and she’d lied, making up a story about a high school boyfriend who obviously had not existed. And though she doubted very much that Patty had found opportunity to share that with Jack, she couldn’t be too sure. Patty shared a lot, and not all of it was reliable information.

So she’d lied. She’d told Jack she wasn’t, and he said, “I’ll pull out.” And then he pushed in. And that was that. The end of her virginity and, she’d naively hoped at the time, an invitation to join. Instead, Jack passed out afterwards, and just as the shower went off in the bathroom, she raced from the room, her clothes in disarray and her shoes missing. Back in her room, Josh had not made the same escape after his hookup. He and Patty were happily snoring in unison when Rory let herself in. They’d taken the bed, so she curled up in the chair, wishing Josh hadn’t been there so she could wake up Patty and tell her. Instead, she waited to fall asleep, but she still hadn’t fully slept by the time everyone got up to check out and go home.

After that, things had been awkward with Jack. He hadn’t spoken to her at all the next day when they were checking out, stopping for a hangover lunch, and getting unloaded at his place in Fayetteville. She’d gone to Patty’s, where she spilled the whole story. Patty was excited for her, or maybe just the gossip. Every week or two, after a band practice or a show, Rory would manage to hang around until she was the last one there, and then she’d follow Jack to his room in silence, where they’d hook up in silence. It was amazing how much she could love someone she’d never had a substantial conversation with. Amazing how someone she didn’t even know could break her heart so thoroughly.

He didn’t break up with her, exactly, because they weren’t technically dating. At least, they certainly never went on a date, and she wasn’t about to ask him to define anything. She didn’t even dare ask him to buy her a beer when they were out at a bar with friends. By this time, Patty had procured her a fake ID, and they often stayed at bars until last call or, if the band had played, well past it. And then one night, when they’d been drinking at the house where Jack and his bandmates all lived, Jack took the hand of another girl, one of their friends, and led her off to his room, leaving Rory on the porch swing with an empty beer can and a hole in her heart that could not be staunched.

She went home and went to bed. She did not get up when Patty called, or when her mom and dad asked what was wrong, or when Quinn demanded to know what had happened. She did not get up when her mother asked if she’d been assaulted and needed to go to a doctor, though she did answer the question so her mother wouldn’t worry unnecessarily. Still, she did not get up when finals rolled around and school ended. Finally, she got up when it was time for their family vacation on Cape Cod.

When school started back up, Patty wanted to know what had happened. She couldn’t avoid all her old friends, so she fell back into their circle…sort of. She no longer went to all their shows, but once in a while, she’d go out with Patty. Jack never said another word to her, except possibly hi. He wasn’t mean to her. He hung out with the same crowd as always, drank the same beer, smoked pot from the same pipe, went home with the same type of girls. He hadn’t changed. But he’d changed her.

“So that’s it,” she concluded, looking from Kristina to Maggie.

“That’s it? He didn’t cheat on you with Patty, or make you sleep with all the guys in the band before you got to him?” Kristina asked.

“No,” Rory said. “He wasn’t like that. He wasn’t really a bad guy or anything. I mean, he never promised true love and diamond rings. It was all me. It was all in my head. It was just another random hookup to him.”

“What a jerk,” Maggie said.

“Wait, so this is why you swore off love? Because some asshat treated you the way asshats always treat girls? And that’s it? You’re done with guys forever?”

“Not forever,” Rory said. “I just…I mean, I lost my scholarship. I had to retake one of the classes. I couldn’t handle it.”

“I don’t get it,” Kristina said, scrunching her hair in front of the mirror over Rory’s dresser. “Your friend was right. He sounds like a tool.”

“It wasn’t about him,” Rory said. “It meant nothing to him. But it meant everything to me. I was literally blinded by love. I couldn’t see anything but him, not even what was going on between me and him.”

“I can’t believe you still hang out with him,” Maggie said.

Rory didn’t want to explain that she didn’t have any other friends, and didn’t know how to make them. That she could either hang out with them and do her best not to put herself in a position where she was forced to make painfully awkward conversation with him, or she could hang out with her sister, who was still in high school.

It wasn’t so bad. Everyone in Jack’s group was nice to her, and she’d never felt like a part of them, so she didn’t feel more alienated after he stopped sleeping with her. He had a lot of friends, so she could usually turn and start a conversation with someone else if Jack was close enough that it might seem rude if she didn’t acknowledge him.

“It’s not like I hate him,” Rory said. “I swore off love because of me, not him. He’s just a guy. He didn’t do anything wrong, really.”

“So then why can’t you hook up with someone else?” Kristina said. “It sounds like you’re still hung up on the douche nozzle.”

“I just know I’m bad at relationships,” Rory said. “It’s not about a guy, it’s about my reaction. It’s like I’m allergic to love, so I just avoid it. It’s simple, really. Why would I put myself in a position where I’m knowingly exposing myself to it?”

“You’re crazy,” Kristina said, shaking her head. She picked up her purse and checked her reflection a final time. Rory waited for them to say she was too weird, too pathetic, too much of a reject. If her friends back home didn’t want her, why would they?

But they didn’t say anything else about it. Her whole story, all her drama, was only worth a few minutes’ conversation. Here she’d been afraid to talk about it to anyone, not even telling Quinn all the details, for two years. And they acted like it was no big deal. It wasn’t remarkable or traumatic. The only thing that made it different from a million other stories was that it was her story.

CHAPTER sixteen

“Let’s go,” Kristina said, and Maggie and Rory fell in behind her. Outside Rory’s room, though, she stopped at Ned’s door, and, while Rory motioned wildly for her to stop, she grinned and knocked on the door.

“Yeah?” Ned called over the Rolling Stones music coming from his room.

“What are you doing?” Rory mouthed furiously at Kristina.

Ignoring her, Kristina tried to turn the knob. The door was locked. She shot Rory a questioning look. Rory tried to stop breathing so she could die on the spot and not have to endure another moment of humiliation. Then the door opened, and Ned stood in the doorway, his olive green shorts splattered with paint and his old t-shirt sweat stained and torn. “What’s up?”

“Why is your door locked?” Kristina asked.

His eyes flickered to Rory—who had not managed to die yet—probably hoping she’d call off her friend, as if she had any control over Kristina’s actions. “Uh, I was busy,” he said.

“Do you have someone else in there?”

“No,” he said. “Old habit, I guess. What’s up?”

“We’re going out,” Kristina said, her voice dropping to a sultry octave. She grabbed Rory’s arm, pulling her closer. “To a club.”

“Okay, cool. I could use a break,” Ned said. He shut off his light and stepped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Rory tried not to laugh as Kristina stepped back, her face all startled and confused. So it wasn’t just her clumsy rambling that Ned mistook for invitations. Before Kristina had time to explain, Ned was starting off down the hall, leading the way. The rest of them fell into step behind him.

“What is he doing?” Kristina hissed, her nails digging into Rory’s arm. “Is he really going out like that? People here dress up really nice to go out.”

Ned didn’t seem to notice or care that they’d all dressed up and he hadn’t. In fact, he hadn’t seemed to notice that they were dressed up. He hadn’t even spared Rory’s new look so much as a glance. She felt incredibly exposed, anyway, even if no one else noticed. Instead of Kristina’s makeover making her feel comfortable and hot, as intended, it only made her even more self-conscious than usual. She held her short skirt down as she descended the stairs, but she still felt air blowing straight up it, the way she’d usually only feel if she walked out of a bathroom with her skirt tucked in the back of her underwear.

“What’s your cat’s problem?” Kristina asked when they’d barely escaped being mangled by his claws.

“Apparently he hates the world,” Rory said.

“He’s scary,” Maggie said. “You should tell your house mom he acts like that. You can get diseases from cats, you know.”

“I think that’s a myth,” Ned said.

While Maggie and Ned argued about the cleanliness of cats, Rory and Kristina fell back a few steps. “Maybe you can use this as an opportunity to make him jealous,” Kristina said. “If you still like him, I mean.”

“I don’t know how,” Rory whispered.

“Flirt with other guys and ignore him,” Kristina said. “It works every time.”

“If he doesn’t like me, why would that make him jealous?”

“It makes him like you,” Kristina said. “I mean, if that’s what you want. I know you don’t want to fall in love, but there’s nothing stopping you from having a little fun. Consider it practice for when you’re ready to get back in the game. I mean, no offense, but your lady parts must be rusting by now.”

“I don’t think I’m that kind of girl,” Rory said, her face hot. “I don’t know how to play the game. That’s what happened last time.”

“All you need is a good coach,” Kristina said. “That’s where I come in. Trust me, if you play by my rules, you always win.”

It sounded good, but Rory wasn’t so sure. Ned hadn’t given her skimpy outfit a second glance, and he usually noticed everything. Maybe it didn’t work when your two companions were so much hotter. Of course he wasn’t going to look at her when Maggie and Kristina were there. Or maybe because she felt so utterly embarrassed to be wearing something so revealing in the first place, it cancelled out any added hotness.

They rode down to the tram stop where Kristina was meeting her guy and his friends. Cynthia and Nick had come, too, and they all filed into the club together. Ned said he didn’t dance, and for a minute, Rory didn’t know what to say. But then she remembered what Kristina had said about ignoring him. And right as she was pondering how to do this, Armani’s friend slid his arm around her. Usually, she would have pushed him away, but she decided to go for it. At least the dancing part.

Besides, he had Maggie on his other arm, so she didn’t feel too weird. He bought them each shots, and then she was able to get into the music and not worry about how short her skirt was, and how the eyeliner Kristina had put on her might leak into her eyes and create that gross black eye-corner-blob. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ned, though, wondering if this was working, or if he hadn’t even noticed. She had to force herself not to look. It wasn’t like she was going to sit at the bar all night just because he didn’t dance. He hadn’t even been invited.

After a while, they went to another club in the same building. Ned bought her a shot, but he bought everyone else one, too, so she reminded herself it didn’t mean anything. Kristina’s advice had obviously failed on Ned. He wasn’t like most guys. Rory knew that. She didn’t know why she’d thought that would work on him. When Kristina said it, it had sounded so sensible. Now she felt silly in her short skirt with her cleavage showing. While Ned wasn’t looking, she buttoned a couple more buttons on her shirt.

He turned back to her and leaned in, his fingers resting lightly against her waist, as if to steady himself. “I think I’m going to go home,” he said. “I thought we were going to a bar, not a dance club.”

“Come dance,” she said, tugging at his hand. The shot, combined with the one Armani’s friend had bought her, had already made her braver. If he really was jealous that she’d danced with someone else, he should want to step in.

“You don’t want to see that,” he said. “Really, I don’t dance. I can’t dance. It would be bad.”

“Stay a little longer, then,” she said. “I don’t want to have to walk by myself. You can hang out with Nick.”

They’d been hanging out talking at the other club, but when she went out to dance, Nick was dancing near Cynthia, who was grinding on one of Armani’s friends. “Hey,” Nick said, though she couldn’t hear him over the loud music so she had to read his lips. He smiled at her and made space for her in front of him, so she stepped into it and danced with him a while. He was a good dancer, uninhibited and fun but not gropey. She hated when guys used the dance floor as an excuse for putting their hands in uninvited places, or for grinding on her like she was a masturbatory device.

Nick didn’t grope at all, but he was kind of dorky sometimes, goofing off when no one else was. The big smile on his face made it kind of cute instead of embarrassing, though, so she danced with him longer than she’d intended. When she finally realized Ned had been waiting a long time, she made her way back to the bar, along with the others. “I think I’ve danced with you before,” Nick said. “Are you sure I haven’t seen you at a Jack of Spades show?”

“Um, I don’t know, I guess it’s possible,” she said, tugging at the hem of her skirt. “But I think I’d remember that.” At long last, it no longer made her proud to be known as one of Jack’s groupies. Because, in a way, that’s why she’d liked it when people recognized her from bars around town. She’d wanted people to know she was cool enough to be friends with a band, pretty enough to get a guy like Jack. Even if they didn’t know she had, she hoped they’d suspect or at least wonder if she was with him or one of the other guys.

Nick shrugged, and after a couple more shots, they joined in the discussion about leaving. In the end, Maggie left with them, and the others stayed to go on to another club in the building. Outside, rain had started to fall, a light drizzle that had them all damp and clammy by the time they made it onto the tram. It had let up a little when they got to Maggie’s stop, only sprinkling on them as they walked her to her house before catching the last tram to their stop. They were a couple blocks from Theresa’s when they heard the roar of rain drumming on roofs and pavement as it swept closer.

“Shit,” Ned said. “Storm’s coming.”

Thunder crashed overhead and Rory cowered. “Should we stop in a doorway?”

“It’s your call.”

“We’re already wet,” she said, glancing nervously at the sky. “I say we run for it.”

So they did.

She was glad she hadn’t worn heels, though Kristina had been scandalized that she hadn’t brought a single pair to Rome. Now, as her feet squelched and slid in her flat sandals, she could only imagine the nightmare of running in heels. She really would have made a fool of herself then.

Half a block later, the rain came over the rooftops, pelting down hard enough for each drop to bounce up and splash on the street. It sheeted across the buildings and slammed into them. Rory ducked her shoulder against it, as if her already wet shirt would suddenly afford some measure of protection. She slipped on her sandal and turned her ankle, almost falling before snagging Ned’s hand, which was right there for her to grab. He didn’t let go, so she didn’t either, though she did wonder if he would think she’d slipped on purpose, or faked it, so he’d hold her hand.

Even though the night had been warm, the rain was cold, and they were both soaked through by the time they reached Theresa’s house. Out of breath and laughing through her chattering teeth, Rory ran up the steps with Ned. They stood at the door looking at each other. Rain was dripping off his chin, his eyelashes, his hair. For a moment, she wondered what would have happened if they’d taken refuge in someone’s doorway. Would he have kissed her?

Just then, Tom let out a fearsome howl, startling her and Ned out of their moment. Laughing nervously, Rory pulled off her glasses and reached for the edge of her shirt, meaning to dry them, but of course her shirt was drenched. Ned slipped the key into the lock and pushed the door open, then reached for her hand again. He pulled her inside, pushed the door closed with his foot, and pulled her up the stairs. Was she really doing this? Were they doing this? Or did she have it all wrong?

It felt like that, the excitement and anticipation. She was so giddy she almost laughed out loud as she raced up the stairs behind him, for once not caring if the stairs squeaked or her footsteps thumped too loudly. They reached the top of the stairs without pause and rushed down the hall, almost running. Ned unlocked his bedroom door and pulled her inside, and that’s when she knew. Just like Jack, when he took her into his territory, let her sit on his bed, that would be it. He was making the call.

When Ned flicked on the light, her eyes were assaulted by color. Through her rain splashed glasses, she could make out the mad explosion of color, like a kid had thrown a tantrum and hurled buckets of purple and blue paint everywhere, with a splash of red and yellow every now and then for good measure. Before she could take it all in or clean her glasses, Ned had pulled her down on the edge of the bed.

She was ready. She thought she was ready, anyway. Ready for him to toss her on the bed, tell her he couldn’t wait another minute, push himself inside her before they even started kissing. Just because she hadn’t done it in two years didn’t mean she didn’t remember what it was like, the thrill of it, the relief and gratitude that she’d gotten one more chance, the satisfaction of winning. It happened like that, too fast to catch your breath.

But Ned stopped. He sat there looking at her for a good three seconds. Then he reached for the top button on her shirt, the one just above her bra. She held her breath, waiting. Always waiting, like she had waited for Jack so many nights, wondering if this would be the night he’d grab her hand and pull her to his room again. Ned made her wait longer, and not as long. He had been going so fast, like guys went. That had been exciting, though not unexpected.

The uneven pace threw her, though. He undid the button so, so slowly.

When at last it gave way, he met her eyes and smiled. He looked as giddy as she felt. He undid the next two buttons faster and peeled her wet shirt away from her chest, pushing it halfway off her shoulders. Rory waited.

More than anything, she wanted to take off her glasses and dry them so she could see everything that was happening. But then he reached up and pulled them off, and his room went even more blurry, so she felt like she was a tiny ant trapped inside a colorful flower—a wild, crinkled orchid or a rich, velvety iris. Ned leaned closer, so close his face came into focus. If only she could place a camera lens in her eye, capture this moment—his long, wet lashes, the texture in his blue eyes, the hint of a smile on his lips just before they met hers, and her eyes gave up and fell closed.

His lips were cool like hers, wet from the rain, and then warmer, warmer, as they kissed. The smell of his wet skin was driving her crazy. A crack of thunder vibrated through the house, and Ned pulled away. His fingers moved down the side of her neck, and a chill curled itself around her body. She watched his hand move down her chest, then left, over her heart. Slowly, he peeled the cup of her bra back. For a split second, she was startled by the pinkness of her nipple against her white skin.

His trembling fingertips brushed across it and it seemed to curl in, closing like a morning glory in the midday heat. For a second, they both sat looking, not moving. A gust of wind raked across them, throwing rain against the windowpane at the same moment. She didn’t see the rain come in, but she heard it splatter on canvas, and Ned jumped up, swearing, and ran to the window.