Grey

Twenty-One

[RORY]

My eyes lingered on the shirt, keeping me in place as Em called my name again. The hidden gem we'd found was packed, the checkout line nearly wrapping around the entire perimeter of the shop. While there were plenty more thrift stores I had on my list for us to hit that afternoon, the cooly tattered grey tee had a hold on me I couldn't ignore.

I sighed, holding my finger up from afar as Em huffed with impatience. She crossed her arms, standing in place as I slid the shirt off the hanger and held it up. I wasn't absolutely certain it would fit but I had a pretty good idea, putting it over my arm and walking towards her.

"Do you mind just waiting in the car?"

Em raised her eyebrows as the agitation quickly transformed into curiosity. "You are the most impatient person I know, Rory. What is so great that you're about to stand in that line?"

"It's just a t-shirt."

I hadn't even finished the statement before she had tugged the subject of her attention free, holding it up. I wished more than anything I could will the heat in my cheeks away.

"You don't even like Pearl Jam."

I snatched it back, avoiding her knowing gaze. "Finn does."

I ignored the wide grin that spread on her lips, handing her my car keys before getting in line. It took about 20 minutes in total - 20 minutes longer than I'd ever usually be willing to wait, yet I smiled to myself as I walked out of the shop with the bag in hand. When I got into the driver's seat, Em still had the same smug look on her face. I tossed the bag into the backseat, buckling my seatbelt and feigning indifference as I backed out of the parking space.

"That was so nice of you."

"It's just a shirt," I laughed, shaking my head. "Miss Melodrama."

"Buying clothes for him..." she hummed, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know, sounds awfully girlfriend-y to me."

"I told you, it's not like that. He just always compliments my t-shirts and I know he loves Pearl Jam. Simple as that."

"Are you going to ship it to him on tour? Spray it with your perfume? Write a little love note? Send a sexy picture?"

I rolled my eyes, laughing at her childish amusement. "He's not at war, Em."

"He's going to be at war, with me," she chided, clicking her tongue. "I'm just confused, why are you so adamant this is a casual thing? Did he say that?"

"He doesn't have to, we're just friends."

"With benefits," she finished, her smile dropping more and more by the second. "You've had sex a bunch now."

"We haven't had sex a bunch," I muttered under my breath. "Why are you getting all weird now?"

"Well I'm just a little bit like, what the fuck? You're a catch, Rory, and if he is refusing to label it, it makes me feel like he's just fucking around with you."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You're making it out to be something it's really not, he's not a bad guy. We're just having fun. I'm making that choice too, you know."

"And that's fine," she sighed, her voice going softer. "It just makes me angry at him. You're here buying him t-shirts-"

"A single shirt. Because he likes the band. Chill out."

She disregarded my rebuttal. "And he's away doing god knows what with god knows who."

"Not my business is it, really?" I was proud of how nonchalant I kept my tone. "He's just a friend."