I watch as a small, adorable wrinkle forms on the bridge of her nose. An exhale rushes past her lips. “Are you sure I’m ready for that? We’ve only had two les—”
“Won’t know until you try,” I say, cutting off the long-winded ramble I know she’s about to go on. The only way Rory is going to get the confidence she needs to date, or flirt, or fuck, or whatever it is she’s in search of is to get out of her head and allow herself to be in the moment.
Can’t do that if she’s so afraid to fuck it up that she doesn’t give herself the opportunity to try.
Sometimes the only thing holding you back is yourself.
CHAPTER 14
Rory
The roar of Cillian’s motorcycle in front of my apartment has a bubble of apprehension settling in the base of my throat, my stomach doing a series of incessant flips.
I may have had aslightlydramatic, teeny intrusive moment where I texted him in a flurry of mass panic.
Well, I guess it’s too late to turn back now seeing as how he’s… already here.
Seconds later there’s a loud pounding at the front door. I rush over, nearly tripping over my feet to wrench the door open.
He’s standing on the doorstep, slightly winded and eyes wide as he says, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He scans my body as if he’s searching for something wrong. “You said it was an emergency.SOS?”
I wince. “I mean technically itisan emergency?”
His concerned gaze connects with mine, suddenly turning steely. “What do you meantechnically?”
I reach out, grasp the front of his T-shirt, and pull him inside.
The space between his brows is furrowed, and he looks confused and still a little worried. I feel bad for worrying him but also this is an emergency. I didn’t know who else to call so I called him.
Which is kind of weird… the fact thathe’sthe person I thought about when something happened, but I don’t have time to unpack that right now.
He’s the one giving me lessons, so he’s the only one who can help with this.
I think?
Yes.
“So clearly I’m not hurt, or dying, and there’s not an intruder or anything, but to me this still qualifies as an emergency,” I say to Cillian once we’re in the living room. “Can you just, um, sit there please?”
I point to the cream armchair, and he gives me a blank stare, completely unmoving. Not even an inch.
I exhale noisily. “I’m sorry. I realize I should not have said ‘SOS,’ or I should’ve at least warned you that nothing serious was wrong. I just… was having a freakout, and you’re the first person I thought to call about this.”
He runs his hand through his still-damp hair, and I realize he must have been in the shower or fresh out of it when I texted. “Christ, St. James. What the fuck’s going on?”
My teeth rake over my bottom lip before I pull it between them, chewing nervously. I think my palms areactuallysweating right now. I haven’t been this nervous in a long time.
He’s going to think this is so stupid, and now I think it might have been a ridiculous idea to begin with.
“One second,” I breathe, turning to sprint to my bedroomand gather the armful of packages I’ve been hoarding for the past week. When I return to the living room, Cillian’s on the couch, his tattooed arms spread along the back, staring atThe Office, which I had playing on the TV.
I walk to the center of the living room and drop the packages on the floor in front of him.
His dark brow arches as he takes in the pile, clearly confused. “What is this?”
“These are packages.”
He rolls his eyes. “Obviously, Rory. Can you fill me in on what the hell is going on? Because you’re not making a bit of sense right now.”
