Chapter 7

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“That’s an impressive bruise there,” Rory’s mother commented over dinner that evening.

Deacon shrugged and turned his eyes down to his plate. “Yeah, I fell out of bed this morning…”

“Unbelievable, right?” Kristen chimed in with a light laugh.

Rory just poked at his food and wished some sort of catastrophe would happen. Deacon had a bruise—so what? Or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself. All it got him was more attention, and maybe that was the point. But would Deacon really do something like that? No, because it had happened before Rory had talked to him.

“Rory? Sweetie?” his mother interrupted his thoughts, giving him a worried look. “You doing okay? You’ve barely touched your food.”

Rory just stared blankly at her for a moment. “Fine,” he finally pulled something together. With sudden motivation, he shoveled food into his mouth with hopes of getting away from Deacon. He almost made it—he was on the last few bites when Deacon spoke up.

“Rory, do you want to watch a movie with Kristen and I?” Deacon asked. He seemed a bit hopeful even, not even flinching when Kristen smacked him in the arm for the invitation.

“No thanks,” Rory answered and left the table, taking his plate to the kitchen. He rinsed it off and put it in the dishwasher, much to his mother’s amazement. Usually he had to be nagged before actually cleaning up his own dishes. He was upstairs and locked in his room in an instant.

The rest of the evening went on fine. Rory spent all of his attention on the new magazine that had come in the mail that day. It was one of the more historic ones, and he was reading about changing photography trends. He flipped through the old pictures, most starting in the 1800s. Next came ones from later on, mostly depicting families and wars. He flipped on further, stalling over the nude male form on the page.

It made sense. Nudity was a form of art, Rory tried to tell himself, but… he still felt himself stir. He turned the page quickly, reading on about the styles of modern photography.

He finished the magazine in short time, hardly reading much of what came after the photography section. He absently went back to that picture, frowning at it. He was a bit more muscular than Deacon, though Rory really couldn’t compare much else.

Rory closed the magazine and put it into place on his shelf. He planted himself in front of the computer next, flipping around sites and more daily news. He lost track of time, and soon Kristen was making her way into his room.

“Look. I don’t know what’s up between you and Deacon, but he’s not your friend. He’s my boyfriend. Our time together is… ours. I don’t know why he keeps insisting you hang out with us, but just… don’t, okay?” Kristen huffed before storming right back out.

Rory just stared in confusion. He had said no, why did she feel the need to come in and tell him to stay away? Rory scowled and turned back to his computer. Stupid teenagers and relationships. He really didn’t get them.

Rory spent the rest of his evening browsing around the computer and losing track of time. Soon enough his mother was coming in and nagging him to shower and go to bed. Groaning, Rory abandoned his computer and slunk across the hall to the bathroom.

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