A Season of Firsts

Chapter 20

"Dela, wake up," are the first words I hear in the morning, and I wish I could hear them every morning. I'm reluctant to open my eyes to the bright sunlight streaming through the blinds in Rory's room, but when I do, I'm rewarded by his gorgeous face smiling down at me.

"Hi," I say, my voice still rough from sleep.

"I tired you out, huh? It's 10," he says.

I sit up immediately and rub my eyes, shocked I slept in that late. My body clock is usually good at waking me up early. "Wow, I'm usually up by 8. Don't you have to work this morning?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to wake you sooner than I needed to. You looked so peaceful," he says, smiling softly at me and melting away any reservations I had about us.

I lean over to give him a quick peck on the lips, not wanting to subject him to my morning breath, and say, "Thank you for letting me stay."

"No problem. Hallie rang after you passed out last night, wondering where you were. I told her, I hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," I frown, "why wouldn't it be?"

"No reason," he says, brushing my question off and getting up to head into the bathroom. "I have a spare toothbrush that you can use, and Mabel left some of her fancy ass face stuff here by accident."

I laugh, asking, "By 'fancy ass face stuff', do you mean skincare or makeup?"

"Cleanser I think," he hollers back.

"Amazing, my skin is drier than the Sahara desert. Do you have moisturiser too?"

"Yeah, but it's not up to Mabel's standard. She scolded me for how simplistic my skincare routine is the other day."

"Any moisturiser is better than no moisturiser," I say as I join him in the bathroom, and he responds, "True that," as he slaps the bottle into my open palm.

He has a double sink in his bathroom, so we stand side by side as we get ready for the day. It feels weirdly comfortable, like we've gone straight from dancing around our feelings for each other to married life.

"What are your plans for today?" I ask him as I tie my hair back.

"I'm working at the store until 5, then I'm going out for drinks with some close friends of mine."

"That's cool, would I know any of them?" Please don't mention girls, please don't mention girls, my internal monologue chants. Not that I have any right to be jealous.

"Nah, it's just some guys who I go out boarding with. Their families have always come here on vacation, so I've known them for years. You should meet them sometime. I think you'd like Jared, you have the same sense of humour," he says, grinning with his toothbrush sticking out the side of his mouth.

"And what sense of humour is that?"

"Sarcastic as fuck," he laughs.

"Fuck off," I say, laughing and shoving him to try and make him lose his balance, but he's too used to getting body-checked on the ice for me to have an effect.

"You could bring Hallie too, so you wouldn't be outnumbered by guys."

"Nah, I think I can handle a few rowdy Canadian boys."

He laughs and comes up behind me, wrapping his arms round my torso and making eye contact with me in the mirror in front of us. "I wouldn't say that before you've even met them. I think they'd exceed your expectations."

I smile at him in our reflection before he suddenly kisses me on the cheek and breaks away, apologising, "I hate to be a dick, but I have to get to work. Can you lock up?"

"Yeah, sure. Are you not scared I'll trash the place?" I ask, trying to put on my best evil smile as I follow him through his bedroom.

"I think I would have figured out by now if you were a psychopath," he says as he hops around the living room, tugging his shoes on.

"Don't speak too soon," I sing-song as I pad barefoot into the kitchen, looking for something I can eat.

"There's cereal in the cupboards above the stove, or eggs and bacon in the fridge, take whatever you want," he says, noticing where my attention is now focused.

"Thanks, have fun at work today. And don't drink too much tonight, I wouldn't want to have to rescue you," I say playfully as I wave a spatula at him, then internally scold myself for sounding like a protective girlfriend when we haven't even defined what we are.

"I am making no promises," he laughs, "Luke buys shots like he has shares in Jägermeister."

"Luke sounds like fun!"

"He is fun, but not when you want to have a quiet night. I'll text you later, okay?"

"Okay," I smile, placated.

"Bye, Dela," he says, then runs over to kiss me chastely on the lips before he rushes out, the door slamming behind him as I stand at the counter with a stupid grin that I can't seem to wipe off my face.