Rory's Christmas

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

Drew turned to Ro in confusion. “What was that?” he asked.

She had snatched her hand away as soon as she unfroze and was zipping up her jacket casually. At first he thought that she hadn’t heard him; but then he saw the way her hands were trembling and he guessed at the truth.

She didn’t trust him. That was there was to it, plain and simple; and it made sense, anyways, because they’d only known each other for a day—and barely that—so Drew shrugged it off and told himself he still had time. Plenty of time, if what Lottie had told them was true. At least she didn’t [still] hate him.

He stepped closer to Ro, stopping her fingers with his own and gently pushed them back down to her sides, trying to ignore how soft they felt and how cold they were—damn, they were like icicles. He should go find her some mittens—and beating back the urge to hold her hands to warm them up. He pulled up the zipper the rest of the way for her, concentrating on not getting it caught in her long hair—she had really long hair—or the bits of ripped fabric. When he finished, he straightened her collar and clucked her lightly under the chin with one finger.

“Turn that frown upside down, sweetheart.” He went for his signature I’m-Drew-Campbell-and-I-love-everyone grin, hoping it would work. Ro’s lips went up half an inch. Eh. Good enough. “Let’s go find you a phone booth!”

He grabbed her wrist—okay, so maybe he had a bit of a hero complex; but she was too cold and she could get sick, alright? Goddammit. Somebody had to look out for the ladies of this world. (Drew was conveniently forgetting about the fighting skills that he had witness earlier.)—to tug her alone behind him, but her heels dug into the sidewalk and pulled them back. He frowned at her.

“Ro—”

“One, don’t call me that,” she interrupted. “And two—you’re going the wrong way, Drew.”

Silence.

You’re going the wrong way, Drew…Drew…Drew…

“Drew? Hello? Are you okay?”

“Say my name again,” he breathed dreamily. The way Ro had pronounced it…she had made it beautiful…special…every syllable was important…

Ro slapped him upside the head and he yelped, snapping back to reality. Shit. She hit hard. “What was that for?”

“For being an incorrigible flirt,” Ro growled, snatching her hand out of his grasp. “Now shut your mouth and follow me. I need to make sure my home is still standing.”

Drew laughed. He hadn’t known Ro could joke.

Then he saw her expression. Oh. Okay. Never mind.

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Rory was at her wits’ end. Lotus somehow knowing (or at least pretending she knew, or at least knowing a bit about the tip of the iceberg)—Drew’s hand on her own—the way he had stood so close to her, zipping her damn jacket up (she had felt an insane rush of gratitude that Lotus’ sister had given her the old garment)—and him calling her sweetheart. It had all been too much. Way too much. OVERLOAD.

She hadn’t liked his touch—or maybe she had liked it too much, which was, again, insane. His fingers hadn’t be soft and smooth or anything, more like rough and calloused which made her wonder what he did for a living; but they had been so goddamn gentle. Too goddamn gentle. And all the while there had been that little concentrated look on his face and that perpetual smile that refused to be knocked off—Rory had to resist the urge to try and punch it off his face, which was of course such a horrible thing to be even thinking about, especially of the person that was helping you—but she couldn’t help it.