Page 42 of The Roommate Situation

I grab my suitcase and Rory takes his, as we head up the stairs. I follow him and he leads me down the carpeted hallway, past an office, another bathroom, and a room with two single beds decorated in Hello Kitty, before stopping at the door at the end of the hall. The door is part way open already, and he shoves it with his shoulder as he enters. It’s not a huge room, but it’s decent sized. Big enough for his bed, which is also twin sized, and decorated in a black and gray comforter. There’s a double inflatable mattress on the floor next to the bed, along with a dresser, closet and a desk.

I stop just inside the room and take it in. There’s framed art work as well as several canvases decorating the walls. Beautiful watercolors and pen and ink sketches of flowers, animals, the mountains.

“Holy cinnamon rolls, freckles, you did all these?” I walk further into the room to get a closer look, admiring them.

“Yeah,” Rory says, his cheeks pinkening as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his gray skinny jeans. He’s paired them with a red dress shirt today and a polka dot bow tie with white suspenders. He looks scrumptious as always.

“They’re amazing.”

I look around at the rest of his room. Black curtains hang above his window that looks out over the back yard and there’s a picture of his family sitting on his desk along with different art supplies.

“Your parents don’t know about us, do they?” I ask, and his face pales. He shakes his head.

“Are you mad?”

“No,” I tell him, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Honestly, my family doesn’t know either. I didn’t really know what to tell them.”

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t either, and I hadn’t even told them about Zach and I breaking up until last week.”

“We don’t have to tell anyone anything until you’re ready,” I say, and he smiles at me. I want him to want to tell people, sure, because I am ready to tell people. Rory is amazing and I want my family and friends to know I’m with him, especially after our conversation this morning. But with everything that he’s been through lately, I don’t want to push him either, and he might be freaked out if I told him I’m pretty sure I’m falling for him.

“Thank you.” He stands on his tiptoes and kisses my cheek. I hear a dog barking outside and look at him. “Oh, that’s Oreo.”

“Boys, dinner!” Delilah shouts up the stairs.

“You have a dog?” I ask.

“Yeah, she’s super sweet. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

We make our way downstairs and to the dining room and I spot Oreo right away. She’s a black lab and her tail waves frantically, her feet clapping against the hardwood floor. There’s a cool breeze and she smells like grass and dirt, telling me she just got let inside. She’s whimpering excitedly when Rory approaches her, me behind him. He kneels and scratches behind her ears. She licks his face, making him scrunch his face up, and I get down on the floor next to him.

She steps right up to me and smells my face, then offers me a lick as well. “Oreo, no,” Delilah scolds as she carries a dish to the table and sets it down. It smells amazing. Frank is filling the glasses with water and the girls are sitting at the table, watching the whole thing and giggling.

“It’s okay Mrs. C, I don’t mind,” I tell her as Rory and I stand and I pet Oreo’s head as she pants, her tail still going a mile a minute.

“Oh, none of that Mrs. C stuff. Just call me Delilah, sweetheart.”

“Same goes for me,” Frank says, patting me on the shoulder before he takes a seat at the table.

“Come on, now, sit down before the food gets cold,” Delilah says. I take a seat next to Rory across from the twins and Delilah takes one end of the table while Frank takes the other.

They ask me about my major and how school is going while we eat. Delilah is delighted when I tell them I want to be a teacher or a coach, or both. Frank asks if I play any sports, and I shake my head.

“I played football in high school, for fun, but I’m not super competitive and I realized I liked the coaching side of things more and just working with kids.”

I tell them about my family and our different traditions when they ask. How we all used to cram into the same room on Christmas Eve when we were kids and we’d stay up all night playing board games and video games, too excited to fall asleep. How Mom insisted on having a real tree even though she was allergic. How the angel tree topper we have has been missing a wing for ten years because my brothers were fighting over who got to put it on the tree and broke it, and Mom couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it because after she scolded them it was a fond memory. How we go caroling every year even though none of us can sing except Hope, but we enjoy the time as a family.

I offer to help clean up dinner when we’re finished eating but Delilah waves me away and tells me Frank will help and I’m a guest. I should make myself comfortable. Rory and I end up playing a game of Candy Land with Addison and Ava and then Slap Jack, which Addison is wicked good at, before we call it a night. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I’m determined to help some in the kitchen. I can’t come eat all their good food and not help out.

I slide under the blankets of my air mattress that night as Rory lies in his bed next to me. The lights are off and the moon casts a glow over his freckled face as he looks at me. “I’m hoping this doesn’t sound too selfish,” he says, “and I’m not exactly glad you couldn’t go home for break, but I’m really glad you’re here.”

I chuckle. “Me, too.”

“Goodnight,” he says.

“Night, freckles.”

FOURTEEN

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