Chapter Eleven

When Rory awoke the next morning, everyone had already left. Maria was busy in the kitchen, and she offered to make Rory breakfast. “No thanks, Maria. I'll grab something later,” she answered as she went into the garage. Since there was only one person who might be home today, that limited Rory's list of people she could see to one. Since she didn't know Carson's phone number, she'd have to drive over.

Rory stopped at a McDonald's and bought two breakfast value meals. It was nine-thirty when she knocked on Carson's door. He answered, wearing pajama pants, no shirt, and no shoes. “Good morning,” he said with a grin. “Is that greasy, heavenly smell breakfast?” he asked hopefully.

Holding up the bag, Rory gave it a shake. “Egg muffins, hash browns, coffee, and orange juice.”

“Well, come on in,” he invited eagerly. Once Rory slipped inside, he closed the door and locked it. “Have a seat,” he waved to the bed. “Sorry I don't have a couch or something.”

“There's no room, is there?” she teased and sat on the bed. Carson went to the kitchen and came back with plates and glasses. “My, this is very special,” she said lightly as he poured orange juice in the glasses and arranged the food on plastic plates. “Plates for McDonald's. You know how to impress a girl.”

Carson looked up as he licked the residue from his thumb. “I hope so,” he said throatily. Rory's face grew warm and she turned her attention to the food, concentrating on it studiously. “So, what brings you by?”

“I was home and I knew you were home—well, I hoped you were home. It seemed like the thing to do—I mean keep you company. After all, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have a broken nose or be suspended from school.” Rory answered self-consciously. “Did you have something planned for today?” She didn't want to intrude.

“Nah,” he answered. “I thought I'd watch a movie, play some music, and maybe have some wine. You're welcome to join me if you'd like.” Rory nodded and they finished breakfast. After Carson put the plates and glasses in the sink, he flipped on the television.

He channel-surfed until they found a movie that looked good. He stretched out on the bed, his arms and head resting on a pillow at the foot of the bed. Rory grabbed a pillow and edged in beside him, careful not to touch. When the movie ended, she went to the bathroom while they waited for the next one to start.

When Rory came out, she joined him on the bed again, this time with their shoulders touching. She felt relaxed in his presence, but she was still scared. She wanted to be with Carson but she didn't want him to get hurt—by Dalen or her. What if, because of what Dalen had done to her, she was never able to have a real relationship again?

When the second movie was over Carson sat up. “Hungry?” Rory nodded vigorously as her tummy growled. They both laughed. “Chinese?” he suggested. “Red Dragon delivers.”

“That sounds great. I'll have moo goo gai pan and fried noodles.” She scrunched up her face. “Oh, and some of the triangle thingies...umm, oh yeah, crab Rangoon.”

Carson laughed and dialed the number from memory. He placed their orders. “Half an hour,” he told her glumly when he hung up. “I'm hungry now,” he mock-whined.

Giggling, Rory sat up too. “You'll live,” she said without sympathy. “Would you play me a song?” she asked tentatively.

He stood up. “Sure,” he answered. “Fast or slow?”

Rory cocked her head. “Slow, I think. I don't really like a lot of faster music.”

He winced. “Then you won't have much fun Saturday night. The band can get quite energetic.” Rory's eyes widened. She'd forgotten all about going with them Saturday night. “Ah ha,” he said. “You forgot, didn't you?” Sheepishly she nodded. “That’s okay. I forgive you. You can still come with us if you want.” Carson wiggled his eyebrows. “See how generous I am?”

Laughing Rory nodded. “I wouldn't miss it,” she responded when she could catch her breath. “Now where's my song?”

Carson shook his head, tsking his tongue. “So impatient,” he admonished and went to the instruments. He picked up one of the acoustic guitars and came back to the bed. He strummed slowly before starting to sing the words.

Rory sat captivated as he sang. Carson played well, and his voice was terrific. It was deep and mellow, so soothing, and when he came to the sad part of the song, his voice had the power to break her heart.

When he finished, Carson sat the guitar on the floor. “Did you like it?” he asked casually.

Rory nodded. “Oh it was beautiful, Carson. Did you write it?”

Smiling, he rose and returned the guitar to its stand. “No, actually Korith and Jon did.”

“Who's Jon?” Rory asked as she watched Carson go into the kitchen.

“He's in the band. He's also Korith's boyfriend.” Carson took two cheap wineglasses from the cupboard and opened the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of Arbor Mist. Holding it up, he said, “No corkscrew. Not exactly a wine aficionado,” he joked and twisted off the cap. “Do you drink?”

Shrugging, Rory stood up and walked into the kitchen. “Sometimes. I like wine and wine coolers. I don't drink every weekend though. My parents let us have a glass of wine at Christmas and Thanksgiving, but they've always preached responsibility. I guess it sunk in. They aren't the kind of people who have a cocktail before dinner and wine with dessert. Well, they didn't used to be. I don't know what they do when they're out with their friends socializing.”

Carson poured wine into each glass. “I don't drink much either. Besides the fact I don't need to get in trouble for underage drinking, I just don't like to lose control. My mom and dad were both alcoholics for a long time. They've given drinking up totally now but I don't want to become like them.”

He handed her a glass, and she took a sip. “It's good,” she told him and he grabbed the bottle, taking it with them, back to the bed.

The delivery person showed up a bit later and Carson paid for it. He gave her two boxes and a Styrofoam container. “Chopsticks?” he offered and she shook her head. He handed her a plastic fork. Carson dug into his with chopsticks and they ate, talking through the meal. He'd refilled their glasses twice by the time they'd finished, and Rory was giggling at everything. “Are you feeling good?” he teased, laughing too.

“Very good,” she answered. “I think I'm tipsy, Carson.”

He sprawled on the bed, still holding his glass. “I'd say so,” he agreed as she lay down beside him. “Definitely no more for you—or me. Want to know why?”

“Why?” she asked expectantly. Carson picked up the bottle and turned it over.

“Empty,” he explained morosely, and she laughed hysterically though it wasn’t really that funny. He laughed with her and they fell together as they tried to stop giggling. “You've had way too much,” he said, his mouth inches from her own.

“It's your fault,” she accused. “You kept refilling the glasses.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to get me ineb...inebrat...drunk, sir?” She feigned a lousy southern accent as she asked the question.

“I swear I'm not,” he denied. “I had no idea three glasses would make you so...out of it.” He couldn't help laughing again and it got her started. The next thing he knew he was kissing her.

Their lips were pressed together and she was moaning. When she slipped her tongue into his mouth, he was shocked and dropped his glass. Thankfully, it was empty. Carson drew his head back. “I don't think we should do this—” he started to say.

Rory gave him a sultry look. “Let’s just see how it goes.” She wanted to be with Carson. “If I want to stop, I know you will.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Just tell me—” She cut him off with another kiss. They were in each other's arms, touching and caressing. Carson, who'd never changed out of his pajama pants, but had thrown on a T-shirt, was surprised when Rory pulled his shirt off. She kissed his chest and flicked her tongue across his nipple. “Wow,” he whispered.

Rory raised herself on one elbow, looking at him through the curtain of her hair. “Have you ever been with a girl before, Carson?”

“No,” he answered honestly. “I've never been serious about anyone.” He ran his hand down her bare stomach. “Until now,” he added.

Rory smiled, blushing a little. “I've never either. I’ve never done this before…” She looked sad. “Well, except Dalen.”

Carson put a finger to her lips. “Shh,” he whispered. “Don't think about that. It never happened, and he doesn't exist. Right now, we're the only two people in the world. Together, here and now, on this bed. The question is, what should we do?”

Rory pulled his head toward her and kissed him.

“My thoughts exactly,” he joked before being swept up in a tide of passion.

Their clothes disappeared in a flash, and he entered her a few minutes later, after more touching and kissing. She flinched. “It hurts a little,” she whimpered but wouldn't let him stop. He devoted himself to exciting her, and she enjoyed it immensely. He came shortly after her, and they lay together in a sweaty heap. “It was wonderful,” she whispered. “I could die happy at this moment.”

“Don't talk like that,” he admonished. “It's never a good idea to tempt fate.”

She nodded and they curled up together to sleep. It was after four when Rory woke up, and she scooted off the bed. Carson opened his eyes to watch her as she dressed. “I wish you could stay longer,” he said wistfully.

“Me too, but my parents will be home soon.” She gnawed on her lips. “And football practice ends shortly. I need to talk to Dalen. He's not going to run my life anymore.” After sliding on her v-neck shirt she leaned across the bed and kissed Carson. “I'll see you tomorrow though, if you don't have anything else planned.”

“I don't,” he replied, cradling his head on his hands. “What do you want to do?”

“Let's go to the beach,” she suggested. “We'll drive into L.A. 'cause I love this one spot.” She slipped on her sneakers. “I'll pick you up at eight-thirty, if that's not too early?”

“No, that's fine. I'll see you then, Rory,” he watched her go sadly. Today had been so wonderful that he hated to let her leave for even an hour. He wanted her right beside him...forever.