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It’ll burn itself out, Rory later insists.It’s meant to rain soon, anyway. I can’t tell if he’s trying to convince himself of this or not. All I know is that my act of rebellion has made me feel phenomenally powerful, and that both Danny and Rory are looking at me as though this perception of myself might not be a delusion.
Before Danny and I leave to seeGrease— Rory still absolutely unable to be persuaded to join us, 1970s musicals seemingly his hard line — Rory grabs me by the waist and kisses me fully. I melt in his arms, my toes curling with pleasure as he dips me, containing me safely in that tight, precious circle, before he releases me and gives a grudging salute to Danny.
“Take care of my bride, Danny-boy. I want her back in one piece, or I swear—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Danny says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Where’s my bloody kiss?”
With a cunning half-smile, Rory bends his head close to Danny, and for a hot second, my stomach swoops as I think their lips are about to meet. But Rory stops the smallest, cruelest distance from Danny’s mouth, his lips spreading in victory as Danny’s eyes flicker shut and his mouth begins to part in submission. “You can continue to dream about it,” Rory murmurs, “God knows, I wouldn’t want to ruin the fantasy you’ve built in your head.”
“Prick,” Danny breathes as Rory pulls away.
“Freak,” Rory counters amiably.
“You know, you could just,” I tap my fingers together, depicting a kind of collision, but then Rory’s eyes settle on me balefully. “Or not. Never mind.”
Rory leaves us with a mysterious smile, as both Danny and I track his gleaming blond head back downhill to the St. Camford student accommodation.
“He takes me for a bloody fool,” Danny moans, turning away and heading in the opposite direction. “He toys with me like a cat with a bloody mouse.”
I laugh slightly. Drunk Danny has a penchant for the wordbloody, and it’s kinda cute.
“You still like him.”
“Duh. He only does it because he knows it’ll get me evenmoreworked up, and he’s right.” He shakes his head, seemingly disgusted with himself. “He’s a sick bastard, Jessa, I swear. But then… I must be, too.”
Their bond is one of conflict and cruelty and bitter historic ties, but I don’t think Rory would have let Danny into his inner sanctum again without trusting him. “I think he likes you,” I tell him, mulling it over. “He wouldn’t tease you like that otherwise. He wouldn’t have gone on stage with you tonight if he couldn’t stand you.”
“Do predatorsliketheir prey?” Danny asks miserably. “Is that how it works?” He gestures ahead at an illuminated building — Cinema Republic. Briefly, I wonder if this had always been the name of the place, or if it’s had tocorrectitself in recent months. A poster outside advertises the midnight showing ofGrease. “He clearly doesn’t want to glue his face to mine, the way he does with you — or even with Fin.”
“Fin?”
“Yeah. I see them at it when you’re not around. They think they’re being discreet. Are they hell!” Danny sighs. “I don’t think you understand the pull Rory has on all of us — before the girls arrived, he was the top, the very top of the food chain. He ran Lochkelvin and cared about its students and everyone was so in love with him. We all wanted to impress him. Be his pal. Behim. Deep down, everyone fancies Rory, because we all want to bloodybehim.”
Danny punches in some numbers at an automatic ticket kiosk. It takes two attempts to order the tickets, his fingers slipping over the touchpad every time.
“Luke doesn’t.”
“Luke has class. He’s not a horny dirtbag like the rest of us. If anything, Luke might be the only guy alive that darling Rory would get down on his knees for…” A stream of tickets triumphantly falls from the kiosk. Danny gives me a sly look, handing me a ticket. “To pray for, obviously.”
I’d always picked up on that vibe — the quiet respect Rory has for Luke that he shares with literally no other male. I glance down at the ticket and then at the theater foyer — it’s empty. Only one employee exists, yawning behind a large glass box of popcorn.
“D’you think anyone else is coming or is this it?” I fish around for some coins and buy us a large bag of popcorn. Tonight, our diet has been solely liquid, so some sustenance, even if it is in the form of happy sugary carbs, will probably do us some good. The employee seems ecstatic to finally be serving someone.
“I don’t know.” Danny looks out of it. I’m not even sure he realizes we’re at the theater and finally about to watch his belovedGrease. I’m not sure he’d be spilling half the things he is without being completely hammered, either.
“Finlay fights back,” I point out, as the same employee rushes over from behind the food counter to check our tickets. She scans them and directs us to the nearest hall, telling us where to sit. She also seems to be enthusiastically eavesdropping on our conversation. “Maybe that’s what Rory likes. Someone to spar with.”
“Please. Isn’t it obvious? Finlay’shot. All eyeliner and flappy little kilts. Looks like he belongs in a punk band — whereas I’m… I’m…” Again, he sighs, sadder this time as we enter the hall.
It’s utterly empty. No one else is here. The screen is still static black.
I frown at Danny as we ascend the illuminated stairs. “You’re… what? I told you. In art class. I don’t know what you heard but I wasn’t lying — I think you’re beautiful.” Danny raises an eyebrow at me. As we sit ourselves down, choosing seats slap-bang in the center of the hall instead of the ones dictated by our tickets, I add, “You overthink these things.”
Danny almost chokes. “Coming fromyou?”
It’s a fair point. When is my mind not working a hundred miles an hour over trivial shit?
