Date: Tue, 24 May 2022 22:58:03 -0400
From: Sebastian Rory <sebastiandorory@gmail.com>
Subject: Rory and Sebastian Ch. 03: Authoritarian, Highschool

-- This is the third installment in the 'Rory and Sebastian' series. I am
very sorry it's taken so long. I have been travelling! I hope you enjoy
it and thanks to everyone who was so complimentary about the first ones!
There'll be more to follow --

I think that it's always a good idea to beat off before a party.
Especially if there's going to be someone there that you like. My laptop
sat open on my bed and so did my legs. I was fist pumping away, using my
prejac as lube. On the screen was a Facebook photo of Rory Masterton on
vacation; topless in the Mediterranean. He was smiling into the camera
and standing alone. He had green swimming trunks on, just visible beneath
the water. I'd realize later how rare those kind of photographs were. He
wasn't tagged in it, actually. I'd come across it in the FB album of a
mutual friend, Robbie, and thought it was time to get pumping. A light
dusting of dark hairs flecked on Rory's tanned chest and there was that
hot little twinkle in his eyes. I imagined 69ing him and then flipping
him over to fuck him, doggy style, until he couldn't walk for a week.

Only a few days after properly speaking to him for the first time, I had
acknowledged to myself that I was crushing on Rory Masterton. Hard. And
tonight I'd be seeing him at Robbie's house party -- his best friend and
my team mate. I'd also be running into Josh, who would be doing
everything in his power to make sure he ended up bouncing up and down on
my penis. So the tactical jerk off was necessary to make sure that I
didn't either cream myself the moment I saw Rory or get so drunk and
horny that I ended up taking Josh out to Robbie's back garden to do him
in the bushes like I'd done three weeks ago.

I threw my head back slightly as I came. There was a lot of it;
splattering onto my six pack and my happy trail of stomach hair. I lay
back for a moment. There was a tiny bit of sweat on my body. That had
been a good wank. I smiled at the laptop, logged out of Facebook and
closed the screen. I hadn't heard from Rory since bumping into him in the
school corridors the morning after I had sex with Josh, but I couldn't
stop thinking about him and I know we had chemistry when we spoke at the
school playing fields. Maybe I was being dumb, but I thought I could date
this guy? At least take him out on a date; a proper date, not a bullshit
one or a grope at a house party. Maybe I should ask him out on a date
tonight? Maybe. He was cute. And really funny. And I was an arrogant dick
-- so why not ask him? The arrogance was part of my charm. Allegedly.

I bounced naked out of bed and headed into my bathroom. I stepped in and
turned the power on. It was a strong shower -- or, as strong as you can
get in England. Don't get me started... Anyway! The water fell over my
body and the cum was washed away. I began lathering up; I love that
feeling. I ran the suds over my body and relaxed beneath the spray. It'd
been a rough game of rugby today, but we'd won, which meant tonight's
party would be a hell of a lot better -- fuck knows our host would be in
a much better mood. Robbie took losing badly. In everything. My muscles
felt soothed again in the shower and I relaxed. I thought about what I
was going to wear tonight and whether to split a taxi or lifts with my
friend Daniel. I thought of Rory again and smiled. He really was cute.

*

I got there late, with Daniel. The party was already buzzing and I'd
already seen another team mate, Sean, hooking up with Caroline, one of
the popular girls he'd been crushing on for a year. I was wearing a rugby
shirt with a popped collar, which is significantly less douchebaggy in
England than it is in the States and okay if you're 18. At least, that's
what I tell myself! Hey -- look, it fitted me well and sat nice on the
jeans. You could see a nice line of the Calvin Klein boxers above my dark
denim jeans. I felt good and I smelt good. I just hoped I wouldn't open
my mouth, stay something stupid and ruin it all with Rory.

I didn't see Rory, or Josh, for the first half hour of the party. Maybe a
little longer. I ended up playing some beer pong with a few of the lads
from the rugby team and getting the low down on his hook-up from Sean,
once he finally removed himself from Caroline's face. I drank a lot, but
I did my best not to break the seal. But by 10.30, I couldn't take it
anymore. My bladder felt like it was about to burst. I took off to the
bathroom and, wouldn't you know, bumped right into Josh. There was a
flicker in his eye and a relaxation in his body, which told me instantly
that he'd been looking for me. It's what your body silently does when it
finds its target. I inwardly groaned, but outwardly smiled politely. As
non-committal as I could be without being openly rude. I tried to step
past him.

"Hey," he said, blocking my path. It was short and sarcastic -- a kind of
"oh, you're just going to walk past me?!" kind of "hey." The kind of
passive aggressive "hey" that I really, really hate.

"Hey," I replied. Again, non-committal. I smiled again and raised my
eyebrows. I wanted to make him feel a little dumb. I wanted him to
realize that standing in my way in the middle of a hallway at a house
party when we hadn't come together and I was en route to the bathroom was
fucking weird. I wanted him to get out of my way and I didn't want him to
start anything.

"Having fun?"

"Taking a piss, actually, dude. If I can."

"Don't let me stop you, then."

"I won't. If you move?"

He wanted me to touch him. He wanted me to physically move him out of the
way. He wanted physical contact because he'd told Natalie and Suzanne
that I was rough or something. That we had a complicated, passionate
relationship. He'd pulled this kind of shit before. I knew what he was up
to. The second I touched him, it'd confirm everything that he'd told
Natalie and Suzanne. I'd be confirming his lie. See, Josh always thought
I was far more stupid than I actually was. I knew the two girls must be
somewhere nearby; somewhere in the crowd of people. But I didn't want to
look for them. Because if they saw me look at them, then if I didn't
behave in the way Josh had told them I would, then he'd be able to say
that it was because I'd seen them.

By the way - the only thing that's worse than this complicated kind of
high school nonsense existing in the first place is that I actually now
understand how it works.

Thanks, Josh.

Just at that moment, Virginia Reilly swept past and even Josh had to step
aside. Virginia was so mean she made Regina George look like Mother
Teresa. She was also, without doubt, Rory Masterton's best (girl) friend.
I saw Josh eye the gap that he'd made when she asked him to move - the
second she passed by, he tried to step back into the centre of the narrow
hallway, blocking me again. But he couldn't, because, as ever, Rory was
following in Virginia's wake. His hand -- those long, elegant, tapering
fingers of his -- shot out from nowhere and deftly guided Joshua's torso
back towards the wall. Rory now stood in the space that I wanted to get
through. A small smile danced on his lips as he regarded Josh and I -- he
was looking at us with slightly superior amusement. He was wearing a
white shirt and dark jeans. He smelled, as always, absolutely incredible.
If I hadn't been about to pee my pants, I'd have jizzed in them. The
awkward life of an 18 year-old, I guess.

"Sorry, Josh, I just needed to get past," Rory said, in an impossibly
polite tone that I saw instantly made Josh so angry he wanted to swallow
his own chin.

"Me too," I said, quickly.

"He needs to pee," interjected Josh, aggressively.

"How fascinating," Rory responded. He was so English it was unreal
sometimes. "Well then, I'll let you past first, Sebastian - since it's an
emergency."

"Thanks, Rory," I said, as he pressed himself up against the other wall
and I squeezed between him and Josh. What I did next was incredibly
awkward and it definitely hurt Josh's feelings, but I was 18, I was
smitten, I hadn't seen Rory all night and I didn't want him to disappear
off into yet another 3 hour bitchathon with Virginia and Caroline. I
thought, 'Fuck it,' and spoke, even though Josh was standing, literally,
right behind me. Fuck it. "Dude, I'd stop and chat, but there's something
I need to take care of."

"Your ankle?" Rory asked, still smiling. Still flirting!

"That'll come later," I winked. Josh couldn't see the wink, but I could
feel him getting agitated. Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it. "Where'll you be,
later?"

"Come find me," he said, easing past me. Little bitch was playing hard to
get. That's okay. That's hot. I winked at him. I was feeling cocky. And a
little drunk. We parted company and I made it into the bathroom at the
end of the corridor before Josh could reinitiate -- or reignite --
conversation. I let out a long stream of piss and groaned. It feels
fucking amazing when you empty after that big a build-up.

I emerged from the bathroom and there were people in a line outside; none
of them were Rory and Josh. I said hey to a friend from my History class
and went off in search of another drink.

*

"Hey, Seb!"

I turned at the sound of Robbie's voice. He was outside, smoking with a
few guys from the rugby team. I said hi to them all, but they meandered
back inside and I sat down next to Robbie to shoot the breeze.

"Well," he asked, "how's your night? I'm so fucked when my parents get
home."

"It's not that messy."

"True, but Mummy's a neat freak. Hit on Josh yet?"

"No," I answered. I sounded a bit harsh, which I shouldn't have been. I
felt bad. Robbie was a good friend. "Sorry."

"Rory, then?"

I looked up at him and we exchanged a knowing look. "Alright, you got
me."

"I knew it!"

"He's so hot," I groaned. "And he's just ... I mean, Robbie -- help me
out!"

Robbie stubbed out his cigarette. "Listen, bro, y'know that Rory's not
the kind of guy who goes for one night stands, don't you? He's not like
that. I just thought I'd let you know that. As a friend."

"I'm not like that, either," I said, defensively. Robbie smirked and
looked at me as if to say 'are you serious?' "I didn't like any of those
other guys, Robbie. Not really! They were just ... there."

Robbie looked momentarily taken aback. "But you really like Rory?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah! I can't stop thinking about him," I said. I hung my head ruefully
and smiled a little. It was cheesy and pathetic, I knew that, but it was
true. I was in full crush mode. I couldn't think about anything else.
"Has he said anything about me?"

"He has, yeah."

"Robbie? Tell me!"

"Dude, he really likes you, too. He thinks you're funny and you're
exactly the kind of guy he says he likes." I felt myself get a little
light-headed, which is the point I realized that I must like Rory far
more than I'd thought. "But..."

I landed on that. "But what?"

Robbie looked at me with that awkward look between guys when they know
it's against the guy code to tell another dude not to be an asshole, but
they have to because now it affects someone else that they love. "He
doesn't want to get involved in the whole you-and-Josh thing, Seb. I
mean, he really, really doesn't. As long as that's going on, he says he
won't go near you. He thinks Josh is a psychopath who'll kill him as he
sleeps if he goes anywhere near you."

"There is no 'me-and-Josh,'" I said. Even as I said it I knew how lame it
sounded, given that you could still see the hicky I'd planted on Josh's
neck from three days ago.

"Seb, c'mon."

I put my head in my hands. "Ugh, I know! It's so fucking annoying. Why
can't I just keep my dick in pants and out of Josh's ass?!"

Robbie laughed. "He's a hotty, I guess, and he's a total slut. It's bound
to happen." I loved Robbie in that moment. So hetero, so bro, so at ease
in himself. Such a good friend. He could talk to anyone. He was a good
guy. "But Rory's not," he said, "and he needs to be looked after."

His tone had changed. I have a little sister. I knew what the tone change
meant; I knew what I was about to get. I was about to get the warning or
"the talk" or whatever you want to call it. Robbie cleared his throat and
looked at me. He was a handsome guy; especially when he was deadly
earnest, like he was right now.

"Seb, Rory and I met when we were four years old and I love him. He's my
brother. Not like my brother - that guy IS my brother. And I love him. He
doesn't deserve to be hurt and if you're serious about liking him, I
think you two would be great together. But don't dick around with him and
don't use the fact that you like to have sex as an excuse to keep Josh in
the picture. I'm a guy - I feel your pain. I know how that kind of stuff
happens. But you have to step up to the plate. He's a good guy, even if
he doesn't always act like it. Don't fuck it up."

The breeze was cold and it blew through Robbie's garden. The trees
rustled nearby and I sighed. He was right. Rory had a self-possession and
an elegance which, even then, I knew was rare in an 18 year old. In the
same way, I knew I had height and confidence that was rare, too. He
didn't feel like a one night stand or something to drag out into long,
annoying confusion like me and Josh. I wanted Rory all to myself. I felt
Robbie looking at me and I squeezed his hand. "Thanks, dude."

"Anytime. Now, fuck off and go talk to him."

*

I weaved my way through the party guests and was preparing myself to do
the best flirting of my life when, like the ghost of Christmas Annoying,
Josh appeared in front of me with an über-belligerent expression on his
face. He was too drunk now to keep up the perpetually easygoing façade
he'd gone with all week. I was tipsy and determined to get to Rory. It
wasn't a good combo for either of us.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, aggressively. There wasn't anything
passive about it this time. I'm not religious, but bumping into him right
after Robbie's chat seemed like a sign or something. Better to get it
over with now.

"Sure," I answered.

"Come in here," he said, pulling me into an empty laundry room. A couple
of half-consumed bottles of Jack littered the drier. Having pulled me in,
Josh wasn't letting go of my arm, so I gently extracted it, leant against
the drier and crossed my legs.

"What do you want, Josh?"

"You know what." He looked miserable, but determined. I couldn't tell if
the misery was real or not. Like the time he'd cried at his 18th birthday
party about his friends. I couldn't tell if it was for attention or not.
I didn't know, but my gut told me he was just a very good and very
selfish actor.

"We're not having sex again, Josh, and we're not going to date." I was
being cold and, deep down, I knew that I was also being kind of cruel.
But I had to be - this had to end. "You said it could just be casual, but
it clearly can't be."

"It can!"

"It can't, Josh!"

"We're so good together."

"Only in sex, Josh," I reasoned. "Only in sex."

"What else matters?" he lied. I hoped he was lying. Or being stupid. Or
drunk. I hoped, for his sake, he didn't really mean that. I hoped he
didn't think sex was all there was.

"Personality, Josh. There's personality. And love. Friendship. A
relationship. We can't have that, Josh, because we just don't get along
with each other."

"I get along with you!" he retorted. He was lying again, or stupid, or
drunk. Again.

"No, you don't! I annoy you more or less all the time. You don't like me.
Not really. You think you do, but you don't. And it can never be just sex
with you, Josh. You know that. C'mon, dude -- tell me you can see that?
Look at us! We don't work." He swayed slightly. He looked upset. Deep
down I knew that if there was another gay guy around -- one he actually
got along with -- he'd never be doing this. But I was the only one he was
crushing on right now. He hated Rory and he had very few gay friends. I
was all there was for him to fixate on and I was realistic enough to know
that. I wasn't special to him -- I was all there was.

"It can just be fun," he whined. He was trying to be seductive. Sober, he
could do it. Drunk, he couldn't. "We could do it now. Let's do it. Fuck
me."

I felt mortified for him. I started to blush. For him. "No, Josh," I
said, quietly. "I'm so sorry, but I don't want to. Please."

"Why?" he shouted. His eyes brimmed with tears. He hadn't looked this
upset when I'd insulted both our personalities, but I realized that Josh
was a pretty guy whose whole personality was caught up in being pretty.

"Because I like someone else," I said - stupidly, idiotically and
moronically thinking that it would make it better. Obviously, it didn't.
Obviously, it made it ten times worse. The second I said it, Josh got a
crazy look in his eyes and the word, "Rory?" was out of his mouth almost
instantly. I deliberated for a minute. I wondered if telling him was a
good idea, but I was feeling confrontational. Like I was proving it to
someone and if I told Josh, it would force me to tell Rory tonight. It
would spur things on. So I thought.

"Yes," I answered. "Rory. I really like him."

"Are you serious? Why? He's an arsehole!" Josh hit back. His eyes
swimming with tears. "He's an ugly, fat, evil, stupid, mean, stuck up
shithead! Why him?"

"He is not ugly and he's not fat!" I retorted. Before remembering that
'stupid', 'evil' and 'mean' were things I should also have commented on.
"He's none of those things, Josh. You don't even know him."

"Neither do you!"

"Josh..."

"Do you think he's hotter than me?"

It was a terrible question and probably one of the most awkward of my
life. The truth was that, objectively, I gotta say that Josh was, and is,
actually technically better-looking than Rory. Josh was very, very sexy
and, like I said, he had the whole Zac Efron thing down pat. Rory was
handsome, sure, but impartially Josh won on the technicalities. And in my
idiot head, I thought that if I conceded that point -- if I gave him that
-- it might be kinder. It might make it easier. I didn't know it would
unleash the seven hells of Rory Masterton on me.

"No," I said. "I don't. You're..."

"See! You think he's ugly. You know he's not hot."

"That isn't what I said," I reasoned. "You're hot, Josh, yeah, but we've
nothing in common and Rory ..."

"What?" he sneered.

"Rory makes me smile." I knew I sounded dopey, but I didn't care. He did.
And Josh didn't. Josh launched himself at me and kissed me on the lips. I
pushed him away and stepped aside. "No, Josh," I said. "I'm sorry, but --
no. I'll see you on Monday."

I walked out of the room and didn't look back. I felt like an asshole,
but it was the right thing to do. It was. I think maybe Josh cried when I
left -- although knowing him he may just have thrown a hissy fit and run
off to find Natalie and Suzanne. Who knows? Anyway, I stepped out into
the hallway and looked around. It was empty, but the kitchen was nearby
and it was buzzing. I looked in and saw Virginia, Caroline, Judith and
Claudia talking together -- the 'mean girls', Rory's friends. He wasn't
with them.

"Have you guys seen, Rory?" I asked. As a rugby player I just about had
enough social credibility to initiate conversation with them without them
spitting cobra venom at me.

Virginia nodded, but didn't really look at me. "He went home," she said.
"He wasn't feeling well."

"When?"

"Just now," she answered. Slightly irritably. Repeated questions always
riled Her Imperial Majesty.

"Did he get a cab?"

"No. He walked."

I looked towards the front door, grabbed my coat from the rails and
walked out. I still had my buzz from the beer and I wanted to talk to
him. And talking away from the party might actually be the best thing,
actually. Plus, I didn't want him walking home alone on country roads in
the middle of the dark. The slightly chilly air hit me as I swung the
door open and stepped out into the Kent countryside air. I threw my
jacket on and started walking.

I caught up with him about fifteen minutes later -- ten minutes or so
from his house and fifteen more from mine. That's an irrelevant detail, I
guess. I forgot he was 6'1 and he was walking fast. I eventually saw him
up ahead, beneath one of the few and far between streetlights. I caught
up with him and the wind had started to blow more heavily. It was cold
now and he was only wearing the same white shirt he'd worn at Robbie's
party. He had no coat. I thought about giving him mine. I was going to. I
called out his name.

"Rory!"

He turned to look at me. He looked pissed. "Hello, Sebastian."

I slowed down from the slow jog I'd started in the final push to catch up
with him. "Ice ice baby," I said, half-mocking how cold his tone had
been. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I'm just not as good looking as Joshua Peterly. That's all."

I was standing next to him. Three inches taller than him and looking down
into his big, beautiful, angry eyes. "Fuck," I said. No point in denying
it. No point in insulting him by denying it. "Fuck, you heard that?"

"Yes," he shot back. His icy calm was beginning to shatter; the cold
detachment was beginning to unravel. In all the years ahead of us when we
were together nothing was to turn me on more than watching him get
flustered and that night was one of the few times when it didn't arouse
me. I could just see that he was genuinely upset. And humiliated. And
that he was already hating himself for giving this much away. I took a
step closer to him. We were practically touching. He was shivering --
from a mixture of the cold and from the rage, I think.

"I'm sorry you heard that," I said, gently. I felt protective of him. I
wanted to put my arms around him. But I knew I needed to apologize first.
"Josh is a very attractive guy. Physically."

"And I'm not."

"No!" He hadn't even asked it as a question - he'd simply stated it like
it was a fact. "No! Rory, no. Listen to me: no. That is not true. It
isn't. And it's not what I said, either."

"He did."

"Well, he's a douche lord," I half-shouted. "He's jealous and he's being
an asshole. Don't listen to what Josh thinks." I realized I should have
called him 'Joshua'. 'Josh' was too intimate and I needed to start
putting distance between us in Rory's mind. "He asked if I liked you
because you were better looking and I said no, that wasn't why. He's
jealous because I like you, Rory. As in, I like-like you. I wanna ... I
really like you and I'm sorry. I think you're hot and I think you're
funny and I really like you and I'm sorry. And please don't let that
stupid convo with Josh -- Joshua -- mess this up. I like you, Rory. I
really do."

A drizzle of rain began to fall. He didn't notice. I did. It dropped onto
his eyelids and forehead. He was mesmerizing. He was never going to be as
classically beautiful like someone like Joshua and he would never be as
rugged as me or the guys on the team, but he was striking. He really was
and I could never explain it to other people. I guess that's what love
is. His lip quivered slightly and I realized, like a punch in the gut,
that he was actually genuinely devastated to have been called ugly. It
was more than just being upset.

"I don't think you're ugly," I soothed. "No one could ever think that."

"Joshua does."

"No one normal could," I said. Hoping he'd laugh. He did, but he didn't
mean it. He was starting to be polite again; he was rebuilding the
exterior and I didn't want him to. "I really like you," I repeated,
starting to feel nervous that he hadn't said anything back. What if he
didn't like me? After all, he mightn't like me. You know, he probably
didn't. I mean, how often had we actually spoken?

"No, you don't," he said, quickly. It hurt.

"Yes, I do. I want to take you out on a date. I'd like to take you to
dinner some night, properly, this week. Monday? Let's do Monday? I mean
it. Let's go out on Monday."

"Looking for your Monday lay, then?"

I got mad. First of all, I'm not a slut. I don't sleep around and I've
slept with far fewer people than half the rugby team has. And I am not
some sex addict. Plus, I'd just told this guy that I wanted to date him
and that I really liked him. "Fuck you," I snapped. "Fuck you, Rory. That
is a dickish thing to say." Did my voice just crack? Please God, say it
didn't crack when I said that! "Isn't that what you do?" he said. He was
regaining ground. He'd found a way to make me feel as bad as I'd made him
feel. Only difference was, I'd done mine accidentally. Rory was doing his
on purpose.

"Isn't what Sebastian Carson likes to do? Hump and dump?"

"It's not what I wanted to do with you!"

"I know it's not. That's because I'm too fucking ugly!"

"How the hell would you know what I do and who I am, Rory? The only time
you've ever bothered your sweet ass to fucking talk to me was this week
because we were the only two who weren't taking gym class. You're an
asshole to talk to me like this. I'm sorry that you overheard what I said
to Josh, but it was not meant as an insult. I think you are so fucking
attractive and I like you. I've said that. I still really fucking like
you. I've never had a crush like this. I've thought about you all
week..."

"Even when you were having sex with Joshua Peterly?"

"Yes! Even then! Maybe that's a weird thing to say, but I was. I fucking
was. And I like you so much and I'm sorry, but right now, you are being a
dick, Rory. You're being an asshole. If you don't like me, just say it,
but don't stand there and pretend like I'm some sort of fucking sexpest
who just moves from one guy to the other. I don't like Joshua. I told him
at Robbie's tonight that I didn't want to see him anymore because I
wanted to ask you out on a date and that's why he got so fucking
psychotic on me. I'm sorry, Rory! I didn't mean to hurt you, but you're
doing it to me on purpose and that's messed up."

The rain had become heavier and our eyes were locked. His shirt was
clinging to him. He had a nice body. And he was shaking from the cold. I
took my jacket off and went to give it to him. As I did it, it was like a
light switch had gone on. Or off. All of a sudden he realized he was
standing there with his shirt clinging to him and a look of blind panic
shot across his face. It was then, in that moment, that I should have
realized what it was. I should have seen it then -- I should have seen
that thing that was to haunt him down the years -- that thing, that fear,
that was gripping him that night. The fear and the self-loathing that had
prompted him to leave a party because someone called him ugly; the fear
that had propelled him into attacking me, belittling me, insulting me,
crushing my feelings; the fear that would, for years, make him nuzzle
into me, then pull away from me. I should have seen that it wasn't vanity
that made him freak out at what Josh said that night. It wasn't vanity or
a mean girl syndrome that made him lash out and panic. It was a deep,
intransigent and terrible loathing of his own appearance. It was a fear
that I would work for years to eradicate -- a fear that I would come to
live with as well; it was a fear that he was fat, that he was hideous,
that he was ugly. It was a crippling fear that all his charm, all his
grace, all his intelligence would never, ever be enough to cover up the
fact that, as far as he was concerned, he was ugly. It was a fear that
ate away at him. It governed every waking moment of his life. It would
take years of love, of teasing, of sex, and cuddles, and hugs, and
fighting, to break him away from it. To make him see his life in a
different way. I should have seen something of it then -- I should have
seen the panic - the sheer blind panic that shot through his entire body
when he realized that the shirt was clinging to him. Clinging to his
every svelte inch that he was convinced was flabby and unattractive. I'd
have liked him even if he had been. Even if he had looked like he thought
he did, I would still have liked him. I really do believe that. I'd still
have fallen in love with him.

He stepped off the road and under a tree. It was dark there and the rain
was becoming torrential. He was shaking and I followed him. I was shaking
now too. I put my coat over him and he flinched as I did so. "Don't be
mad," I said softly. "Please."

"I'm not mad," he whispered through chattering teeth. "What you said was
true. I'm not mad, Sebastian."

"It's what he said," I responded, leaning against the trunk. "Not what I
said. And it's not true." I moved around. Rory was against the trunk now
and I put my hand next to his head, leaning in. "Rory, are you going to
make me repeat myself?"

He looked at me, blankly. He was cuter when, for a rare moment, he hadn't
a fucking clue what to say. I sighed and smiled. "Do you like me? Do I
have to say it again?" He shrugged. "Well, I really like you," I said
again, as I leant in.

I pressed my lips up against his and he pressed back slightly, into the
trunk. I kept pressing down and slowly his mouth opened. I felt his body
relax against the trunk and I pressed up against him. The wind was
blowing, the rain was sloshing down around us and I was freezing -- but I
was having my first kiss with Rory Masterton. And I was happy. I stopped
the kiss and pulled away. I gave him a little peck on the lips and
smiled.

"You're beautiful," I told him. And then I kissed him again. Properly.

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