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I laugh. “Really? You chose your dream destination based on the food?”
“What else is there?”
“I don’t know. People? Places?”
“Well, yeah, India has both those too.”
“Smartass,” I say, and he chuckles. “So, you like Indian food?”
“Don’t you?”
“Don’t know. I kind of live on protein shakes, broccoli, and chicken breasts. Slight exaggeration, but it’s not far off from the truth.”
“A picky eater, huh?”
“No. It’s for work.”
“Work?”
“Yeah. I’m an athlete.” Or was an athlete, I think. “So my eating habits are controlled, to put it mildly.”
“Well, if you can ever have a cheat day, I’d love to take you out for Indian food.”
I blink slowly, then smile when he doesn’t judge my eating regimen like most people do. Everyone not in the sport always assumes I’m exaggerating and should be able to cheat my diet more than I do. But Rory accepts it without question, and it’s so strange to me. He also doesn’t ask what kind of athlete. He wants me to open up to him because I want to.
“Maybe one day,” I tell him finally.
He nods, and we both fall silent for a long stretch of time. So much so that when I wake up, I have no idea how long we’ve been out because next to me, Rory is letting out the cutest little snore. I poke his ribs gently, and he stirs. “Rory,” I whisper.
“Mmmh,” he groans but doesn’t open his eyes.
“Rory.” I shiver. The night got significantly cooler. What the hell time is it? I pull out my phone from my back pocket, and my eyes widen with horror. Five in the morning. We sleptall night. What the hell are cops doing that they didn’t notice us? Not only did we miss our booty call, but I slept like I had never slept in my life. “Rory,” I hiss, louder this time. “Wake up. We have to go.”
He stirs and wipes a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth. His eyes dart around his surroundings, trying to place where he is. “What . . .” He sits up and looks around. He starts grasping around for his glasses that must have fallen from his face in the middle of the night and puts them on once he finds them. He looks around, and what he does next, I would have never in a million years have guessed would be his reaction.
He rolls onto his back with laughter so intense, he wraps his arms around his middle to clutch his stomach. “We fell asleep!” He cries between guffaws.
“It’s not funny, Rory,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“It’s pretty funny.”
“Rory, it’s five a.m.”
He laughs harder. “Really?”
I stand to shake any dirt from my outfit and try to straighten my hair. I use my phone as my mirror, and I turn away from him at record speed. My mascara is running, and I look like a raccoon. My hair is knotted and has blades of grass stuck in it.
Rory stands to look at me, and I pull my face away, horrified.
“Come here,” he says. He grabs my chin, so I face him. “You look adorable,” he says.
“No, I don’t,” I whine, and I slap his torso playfully. My hands can’t help but linger over his hard oblique muscles. I’m only holding on to him for balance, of course, while he pulls out blade after blade of grass from my hair.
“Here, let me get that.” His finger is reaching for my eye next, and I rear back.
“What are you doing?”
He laughs as he tries to approach me again. “You have an eye booger.”
