Page 25 of Boys Like You

“She is from good breeding. Gutter trash has no place here.” Rory steps closer to his mother, his jaw working. She laughs in his face. “Did I strike a nerve?”

“Talk about JD like that again and you can pack your shit and leave.”

“Don’t worry, son, I’m leaving anyway. You can continue to slum it in my absence, but don’t think for a second your father will allow this either. He may have his whore, but he is still married to me.” With that she walks out the door. I can tell Rory is embarrassed by his mother’s outburst, so I laugh to try and ease the tension.

“The guys were right about her.”

He laughs with me. “You’re not bothered by what she said?”

I shake my head. “Why would I be? I trust you, and what she thinks about me is irrelevant. Maybe I am gutter trash or maybe I’m not. Do you care?”

“No.”

“Well good. Now show me around this mansion.”

He moves our joined hands to his lips and kisses mine. My skin bristles with goosebumps at the contact. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just leads us through the house, hands still interlocked. Through the window, I can see a kidney-shaped pool with a waterfall and massive boulders lining the far side. Palms and small shrubs sit behind the rocks, giving the illusion of paradise.

Like the rest of the house, his bedroom has large windows overlooking the backyard. Against the back wall of the room is a bed that looks like it floats off the floor.

I take in the floor beneath my feet. “Your room has a weird set up. I feel like I’m going to fall through the floor.”

“My father had it designed for me.”

“I love the windows. Can people see in?”

“No, not at the moment, but every window has controls. There is a button with the light switch, you can push it and then you can see both in and out.”

“So cool,” I say, taking a seat on his bed. It’s so soft, I feel like I’m lying on a cloud. He lets me know he’s getting changed into his riding gear, I mumble something about marrying his bed, he just laughs and goes into his closet.

“I’m never leaving this bed and you can’t make me,” I call out loud enough that he can hear me from in his closet.

“No complaints from me.” I laugh at his comment. “I think Mumma B will come hunt you down though, or the other guys.”

“They will have to carry me out kicking and screaming.”

He doesn’t reply this time, he just walks out of the closet, dressed in a black and white pair of motorbike pants with Fox written down one leg, his long sleeved shirt is matching.

“When your ribs heal, you’re coming riding with me. I’ll even get you some riding gear in your size.”

“Really? Can you teach me how to ride a motorbike?” I beam.

“As long as you don’t tell the guys. I don’t want to sign my death certificate.” He chuckles. “Come on, let’s go, I want to show you my bikes.”

He leads the way to a massive garage off the side of the house. It’s hard to miss the red mustang with a black stripe up the front when we walk through the doors. He calls it his “guilt gift” from his father for missing his son’s seventeenth birthday.

Along the back wall are four dirt bikes. He goes for the green one. Kicking up the stand, he pushes it outside. We follow a path that leads us behind the pool. Hidden behind the house and trees is a massive motorbike track; there are huge dirt mounds which look strategically placed, at different heights and angles. It looks amazing. When I’m seated on a log by the side of the track, he starts up the bike with a loud roar.

He smiles at me and pulls his helmet over his head. He revs the bike a few times and takes off to the first dirt mound, getting some major air. My heart beats fast waiting for the bike to hit the ground safely. Dirt and dust kicks up around him as he rounds corners and flies over dirt mounds. It’s fascinating to watch. On his third time around, he comes closer to where I’m sitting, dirt spraying up at me. I laugh and wipe a few chunks of mud from my face. He starts adding some tricks to his jumps, and I wonder who taught him since his parents don’t seem the type.

I almost jump out of my skin when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I promised Rory I would put it away but when I see it’s Beth, I know I have to answer.

“Hey, Beth, what’s up?” I miss what she says as Rory comes flying around the track. “Sorry, what was that?” Her laugh sounds through the speaker.

“Rory must be showing you his talent. That boy will go places.”

“He is good,” I agree, my eyes following him as I talk.

“He really is.” She beams. “Anyway, I was calling to let you know I will be out most of the day. The kids have a health check and dentist and we have a playdate. Are you okay to hang out with the boys today?”

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