Chapter Seventeen #2
I hate leaving Appa for any amount of time, but I promise to be back within an hour.
Before I went, she made me trade phone numbers and threatened to stalk me if I disappeared forever.
I almost brought her with me, but I thought an hour apart after such a heavy morning would do us both good.
My house is only thirty minutes away, depending on traffic, so an hour should be enough.
“Be back soon?” Appa asks, holding onto the front door as she sees me out.
“I promise.” I lean down and gently kiss her, and I’ll never tire of how pillowy soft her lips are against mine.
How could she think I’d give that up so fast?
I try to drive carefully, but the high of the day is making me eager to get back to Appa. My left knee bounces as I speed more than usual. I relent and turn on the self-driving feature of my car to let myself calm down and avoid a ticket.
During the drive, I reflect on the post that accused me of being careless with my roommate.
I thought everyone saw it, silently judging me for it for years, yet one of the most connected girls in the world didn’t even remember or associate me with what happened.
Have I been overreacting this whole time?
I know now that I never should’ve hidden from Appa once I interjected myself into her life.
But how was I supposed to know she wanted the person behind the Rook account?
Pulling into the garage, I pause long enough to plug in my car. Switching to electric was the best decision I’ve made while living in LA, and it’s perfect for driving around town. It also allowed me to be stealthy when sneaking around as Rook, but those days are over.
Hopefully.
Walking toward the door to the house, I look over at my Jeep.
When I graduated college, my dad passed it along to me.
He bought it before I was born, and I grew up riding around the vineyards in it.
I used it whenever I drove up to Napa instead of flying.
It wasn’t ideal being nearly thirty years old, but it was well cared for.
Taking the roof and doors off to go off-roading was my favorite.
The dust and sun made for memorable afternoons, and the Jeep still smells like Dad—faint mint and his musky cologne.
Would Appa be up for off-roading? Or Napa?
I rush inside, heading straight to my bedroom.
I strip out of yesterday’s outfit and grab an old college tee and cargo shorts.
I think Appa might like the nod to our college days, but I also grab a change of clothes for tomorrow just in case.
Two sleepovers back-to-back might be too much, but I hope she wants me to stay.
I pass by the rack of wine bottles and grab an unopened dessert wine, labeled with my family’s vineyard.
I opted for a sweet dessert wine just in case she doesn’t like more complex wine flavors.
She saw the cork I left, so she might as well try the real thing.
I can’t wait to tell her all about the vineyard!
I walk out the door to the garage, too eager to get back to my girl, but backtrack.
I open the designated junk drawer in the kitchen and grab the Jeep’s old-school key.
Setting the change of clothes and wine on the floor in the Jeep, I silently thank my past self for putting the doors and roof back on after the last time I took it out.
I insert the key and say a quick prayer.
The engine roars to life. It’s manual, making it challenging to drive in LA traffic, but I make it back to Appa’s before the hour is up. When I pull up, I park in the center of her driveway for the first time to send a message that I’m taking up space in her world. But loudly now.
She meets me out front, changed into a skin-tight peach-colored one-piece with spaghetti straps and shorts that only go to her mid-thigh. “What’s this?” she asks. Her hair is tied up in a messy knot on the top of her head, leaving soft ringlets to frame her perfect face.
“My other car,” I say like I’m cool.
Her laugh echoes. “Wow, look at you.”
I hand her the bottle. “Here.”
“Ooh, this looks good.” We turn to the front door. “Nice shirt, by the way.”
“I like your peach,” I say with a wink.
She gasps as I walk by her into the house. “Robby!” She laughs.
We get dinner delivered, and this is more takeout than I have in a month at least. Appa has to do a series of story posts, and the company will cover her orders as part of the sponsorship.
We order steaks with baked potatoes and side salads from a local steakhouse that’s on the pricier side.
I’d love to take her there someday, but the privacy of her house is the right call for where we’re at currently.
Things feel like they could be solid, but it’s so new.
And there’s the added layer of Appa being so well known. If she’s seen with me, people might speculate that I’m Rook. I don’t necessarily want my family or friends to know about Rook. Not because I’m embarrassed, but that I don’t want to be recognized in public by followers.
When our order is delivered, Appa takes the entrees out of their takeout boxes and neatly plates them on her expensive square plates.
The dining room table looks like it’s straight out of a magazine after staging it for the post. I watch from the archway as she lights a candle.
The flicker is reflected in the ceramic dishes, and she really did earn every follower she has.
“Let’s pop this open,” Appa says, grabbing the wine bottle from the counter.
“Let me help.” She hands me a corkscrew, and I remove the cork from the bottle with ease. I take it off the corkscrew and set them both on the counter.
She picks up the cork. “I usually destroy these things,” she jokes. “Do you keep corks? Or just the one?” She raises her eyebrow at me, but her smile fades when she sees the logo printed on the side of the cork. “Robby…this is the same logo on the cork you left.”
“Surprise, baby.” I smile at her and pour two glasses from the fresh wine bottle. “It’s my family’s vineyard in Napa.”
Appa sinks to the floor, sitting on her ankles. “It was always right in front of me…you were right here the whole time.” She looks at the cork in her fingers again. “Your message. Oh, my God, it all makes so much sense now.”
That was more dramatic than I had expected.
I kneel next to her. “I thought you only wanted Rook, but I wanted you to find me, too.”
Her eyes dart up to mine. “No, I was dying to know who you were. I looked up this logo, but I couldn’t find anything that tied you to it.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and open the vineyard’s social media profile, managed by my dad’s assistant.
The top pinned post is a photo of my family and me on one of our annual vacations to Italy.
I’m shirtless, and my scar is visible if zoomed in.
“I’m right here.” I hand my phone over to her to investigate.
Her eyes scan over my phone screen, and her manicured fingers pinch the screen to enlarge the photo. “I didn’t think to look up their socials.” She hands me my phone back.
I swallow. “I planned on leaving it anyway that night, but seeing you in that condition, it was so clear that you needed more,” I say, ignoring the cracks in my voice.
She drops her gaze to the cork again and twists it in her fingers.
“I’ve always had the worst periods, and I’ve been on birth control since I was fourteen.
It helps, but I still get bad ones. That one was horrible.
And being anemic, I get so sick because of the blood loss.
” She sounds as if she could cry. I reach up to grab our glasses from the counter and hand her one.
“If you’ll have me, you don’t have to suffer alone again.” I lift my glass.
She gives me a small smile. “Cheers.” She clicks her glass against mine.
I straighten out and hold my hand out to her. “Come on, let’s eat.”
We head to the dining room with our wine. She brings the bottle with her and sets it between us. I put my glass down by my plate, as she does with hers, and she takes a picture for her story.
“It’s about time I set the table for two,” she adds.
I smile at her because it’s such a full-circle moment. “You’re going to get DMs saying you’re having dinner with Rook,” I say, sitting next to her on the velvety upholstered cushion of the dining room chair.
Appa smirks, grabbing the wine bottle to top off our glasses. “Good, let them speculate.”
? ? ?
After the sun goes down, I stay as Robby—not Rook—and hold her all night long. No sex, no games, nothing unexpected. Just the two of us sharing her space in peace. I met her in a stuffy house with the bass turned up too high, and six years later, she’s in my arms in the quiet.
“You fit perfectly right here,” I murmur into her hair.
“Mm, I love how warm you are,” she says. “Have to ask. What’s the deal with the scar?” She lightly traces the raised skin along my side.
I laugh, knowing the outlandish theories floating around the internet. I pull the duvet over our shoulders and trail my fingertips down her waist. “Burst appendix a few months after I graduated college,” I say.
She giggles, pressing her face into my chest. “Is that really it?”
“Yeah, it sucked, but I survived.”
She lightly brushes her fingertips over my nipple. “And these?”
I sigh. “When I started the Rook account, I felt like I needed something to make me seem edgier, and I hate needles. Tattoos were out of the question, but I thought if I kept my face out of the videos, pierced nipples would be edgy. And I got the rook piercing because…I don’t know.
Just had to. It inspired the name.” I wince at the thought of being in a tattoo parlor getting my nipples pierced.
The rook piercing was more painful, though.
“I usually keep silicone barbells in them, but when I film, I switch to the metal.”
“I see…I like ’em,” Appa whispers. I take her hand that’s been grazing my side and hold it in mine.
I was so wrong before…she’s still the girl I met in college. Fame hadn’t tainted her like I thought, and she was only matching Rook’s energy the whole time. I came way too close to losing her again, and I’m going to make sure that I never do.