Page 16 of Until We Fall

It’s like I’m dead set on making this entire trip as awkward as possible.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“It’s fine,” he whispers. “I’ve kinda got one too.”

That’s not helping. I blow out a breath.

“It’s just…” He pauses. “Not as evident as yours.”

“What?” He’s talking about his boxers or his…

“It’s not… I’m not…” He bites on the inside of his cheek, staring up at the ceiling. He blushes, then he covers his face with his arm.

There’s so much tension rolling off him.

He sighs, speaking against the crook of his elbow. “It’s nothing, just leave it.”

“Leave what?” My forehead lines. I’m not following.

He pulls in a slow breath, then he drops his arm and turns to look at me.

The indirect sunlight creates a glow on his cheeks, lighting his freckles, his lips, the long sweep of those dark red lashes. A blush runs across the top of his cheeks.

“It’s just…” He presses his lips hard. “We’re just different. And sometimes I forget that, but then something reminds me.”

“We’re different?” I repeat.

“Come on, D,” he says tightly. “Don’t pretend that you don’t understand what I’m talking about.”

I blink. We’re talking about… dick size? I think so? Or maybe something more encompassing than that? Body image?

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I say.

“Look, you don’t have to coddle me.” His words sharpen. “I know what I am and what I’m not.”

“Do you?” I say then bite down on my molars because that sounded like a challenge. I’m just surprised.

“Iknow,” he says, his jaw tightening. “And there’s no changing it.”

“Rory—”

“Please, D. I’m done talking about this. It’s embarrassing. Let’s just go enjoy the beach.” He rolls away, his back to me as he sets his feet on the floor and then heads to his dresser. “I bet Carter and Theo are waiting for us.”

I can’t stop thinking.

I inhale a deep breath of salty air as we walk toward the beach, stopping on the boardwalk to look at a couple of touristy shops. I thumb through the hats, not really noticing what I’m looking at, while Carter and Theo pick out t-shirts, and Rory mostly hangs with them.

He hasn’t spoken to me much since we left the room.

I still can’t fully wrap my head around our conversation. He seemed so hurt and embarrassed and angry. And I should have done a better job telling him that he has nothing to worry about.

It hurts that he might feel like he’s anything other than amazing. Like seriously, my heart fucking hurts. I’ve neveroncehad a negative thought about his body.

We’ve never talked about body image before, I don’t think. It seems like I would remember if we had? Especially if there are aspects of himself he struggles with. And something like dick size… if that’s what he was really talking about? I would have remembered that conversation.

Jesus, I’m sure he’s perfect, however he is. I mean,of coursehe is. Everyone is.

And if he is smaller, well…

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