Chapter 17

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Kristen was quickly shut down before she could utter even one complaint about moving in. She was threatened with being grounded and worse; losing her cell phone. Rory watched in amused satisfaction as she stormed upstairs to hide in her room.

“The basement isn’t quite furnished yet, but I set up my old bed in there,” Rory’s mother explained. “Maybe you can help set up some furnishings down there, though. There’s not a bathroom down there so you’ll have to share with Kristen and Rory.”

Rory clenched his jaw at that thought. Not that it bothered him in a bad way, but it would be crowded enough that something embarrassing might happen then.

Deacon just nodded and hefted his things downstairs—most of everything fit into a duffle bag and a handful of boxes. Rory silently wondered if all of his belongings could be compacted into so little, but probably not. It felt weird to realize that maybe Deacon didn’t have that many things to call his own to begin with.

Rory helped him carry some things downstairs, where Deacon stopped and let out a long sigh. “Shit,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “I still can’t really comprehend what’s going on,” he admitted with a strange look on his face.

Rory shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Would a hug help any?” He could do a hug.

Deacon snorted and glanced over. “You sure you can handle that?”

“Of course I can!” Rory answered defensively.

“I’m challenging you to ten seconds,” Deacon teased, stepping over.

Ten seconds sounded like a long time for a hug in Rory’s mind, but whatever. He tensed up at first as Deacon loomed over and hugged him, but Rory made himself wrap his arms around Deacon as well. Rory counted down the seconds with a focused look, his face tucked against one of Deacon’s arm.

In reality it lasted fifteen seconds, and when Deacon pulled away Rory felt a weird shiver for lack of something. That hadn’t really been bad at all—in fact, he almost missed the warm feeling of it.

“Thanks,” Deacon muttered timidly.

“Kristen will kill you if you interfere with her and the bathroom,” Rory informed for a change of subject.

“I figured. Maybe we’ll just have to share.” Deacon elbowed Rory in the shoulder. “Can’t complain much if we’re both clean, eh?” Deacon backed off then, laughing. “Kidding,” he added.

Rory scowled at him. “You don’t have to joke about things like that.”

“Like what? The sexual part or the clean part?” Deacon asked, looking slightly worried.

Rory wasn’t quite sure which one either. “Both,” he finally answered. “If you’re trying to hint at something, I’m not going to get it. Just say it. And I don’t like my issues with cleanliness being made fun of.”

Deacon nodded solemnly. “Okay, good points. So how easily do you think we could get away with showering together?”

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