I Have To Share A Room With This Strange, Delinquent, Gorgeous Boy? WHY ME!?(1)

10) I Have To Share A Room With This Strange, Delinquent, Gorgeous Boy? WHY ME!?

I woke up at around 10am on Saturday morning. As usual, Rocket was up before me. I found him in the living room, staring at the blank TV screen. He was still wearing his pyjamas, which incidentally, didn’t include a shirt. I got that same wordless feeling that I had last time I had seen him without a shirt, when he was making his way back from the shower. He had an amazing body, despite the fact that he was extremely skinny…it looked good on him. It took me a few moments to compose myself and get over it, and I then sat down in a chair on the other side of the room. I established a long time ago that Rocket didn’t like people sitting near him, I learned this on the second day he was with us, when I took a seat next to him on the sofa and he had shoved me straight off. After a few minutes, I spoke.

“Good morning” I said, with a friendly yet cautious tone of voice.

He didn’t respond.

“Umm…Rocket?” I began.

“Hmm?” he continued to look intently at the blank screen, as if he were closely following the plot of a high tension mystery movie.

“Well, there’s a party at the beach tonight, and I was wondering if you wanted to…”

“I’m not going” he cut me off.

“Oh…okay…” If you haven’t already worked it out, my plan was to ask him if he wanted to go with me, just to get him out the house and doing something social, and maybe even get him to enjoy himself. But when I thought about it afterwards, that notion seemed ridiculous. If he’d have said yes, I would have been deeply concerned about his mental state. It’s just not something Rocket gets himself involved with.

“But, can I ask you something else?” I said, experiencing a sudden surge of courage.

He nodded slightly.

“You still never fully explained why you acted that way at the park. What made you just walk away? And why did you deny me when I called you a hero?” I asked. Actually, my tone wasn’t that questioning, it was more demanding.

“That was two questions” Rocket stated casually, still staring at the TV.

“Don’t play smart with me, you bastard. What are you trying to hide anyway?” by now, my tone was becoming gradually more pissed off. Rocket detected my anger.

“If I tell you, will you shut the hell up?” he asked.

“Sure” I replied, still angry.

“But it’s very important that you keep this to yourself”

“Alright”

“You can’t tell anyone. Not the parents. Not even that friend of yours…the blonde one…Grace? Is it?”

“Gracie” I corrected him.

“Whatever. Just keep your mouth shut”

“Okay! I promise I won’t tell anyone! Can we just get on with this?” I grilled impatiently.

“And listen” he brought his eyes away from the TV and made eye contact with me. His pale blue eyes seemed to pierce right through me. They were stunningly handsome, but equally as intimidating “The only reason I’ve agreed to tell you this, is because I kinda trust you” he shrugged.

“WHAT!?”I had no idea how to respond to that. Rocket, the boy who had been totally closed off, quiet, arrogant, and who had barely spoken to me for the last four years, just told me he trusted me. That was such an un-Rocket-like thing to say I at first doubted what I was hearing. But he confirmed it for me.

“You understand?” he said. I had no idea how he was managing to remain so casual about this.

“Yeah” I whispered breathlessly. I couldn’t quite believe what was going on. Rocket Leighton, adopted son of Trevor and Madison Leighton - the boy who’s real name I didn’t even know, was confiding in me; he was telling me something, because he trusted me. It all felt alien and wrong, and it was making my head hurt, but nevertheless, I was compelled by my curiosity to find out.