Chapter 24 Rory
RORY
The tube train rattled through the suburbs in outer London as Rory sat back in her seat and thought about the weekend she’d just had.
The trade-off for a longer commute from her house was a guaranteed seat on the train and, as the train was overground for a few stops, a view of the outside world for a short time before plunging into the tunnels of the tube system.
She had chosen to live in Woodford as it was on the Central Line and so a simple journey into her office.
Like almost every other commuter, she had earphones in and a selection of music playing, but unlike other mornings, it did nothing to calm her and prepare her for the week ahead and the meetings she had scheduled for the day.
The weekend had been magical but emotional.
She’d not really had time to process how she felt about having her hair cut when she’d fallen, literally, into bed with Gemma.
Then they’d stopped, got drunk at the pub, and fallen asleep together.
Sunday morning had been some of the most emotional and satisfying lovemaking she had ever experienced.
As the train finally disappeared into the tube tunnel, her reflection appeared clearly on the glass window opposite.
Her face stared back at her and told her to admit the truth, even to herself.
It was far and away the best sex she’d ever had.
Being with Gemma had been exhilarating and emotional, and she couldn’t wait until she could be with her again.
She pulled her phone out to look at her work emails when a message from Gemma popped up.
Gemma:
Just to wish you a good day at work *kiss*
Rory smiled broadly before schooling her expression.
It wasn’t the done thing on a commuter train to be giggling like a loon at your phone.
This was nothing new. Gemma had been texting her morning greeting texts almost every day since they had re-connected at the opera, but today there had been a kiss emoji.
Warmth ran across her body, and it had nothing to do with the warm temperatures that were stifling London at the moment and everything to do with the woman who was texting her.
Something had shifted between them this weekend, and it hadn’t just been the amazing sex on Sunday morning.
They had talked, and agreed to start dating, exclusively.
If Rory were honest, she’d felt like they were dating anyway.
All the dinners, shopping, going to the gym together was exactly what she wanted to do with a partner.
Add in her deep feelings and obvious attraction, and it had all clicked together so easily and quickly.
She looked at herself in the window again, trying to give herself a stern internal talking to as the train swayed and rattled towards its destination.
They needed to take things slowly as Gemma kept saying she was not great at relationships.
Rory sat back in her seat as a stream of commuters piled onto the train.
As they settled down, her thoughts went back to Gemma.
She had said that she was falling for Rory, but Rory didn’t know what that meant to her.
All Rory knew was that she was falling in love with Gemma, and it didn’t surprise her in the least. The love she’d felt for her as a friend when they were teenagers had been replaced by something far stronger now they were adults.
She had felt it at the opera and had been fighting it ever since.
If she had half a chance, she would move Gemma to her house and put a ring on her finger as soon as she could.
She rubbed a hand over her face and mentally slapped herself for her foolishness. That would scare Gemma away for sure.
She ran her fingers through her short hair and adjusted the shirt sitting under the collar of her suit.
She really needed to go shopping for some new work suits.
After their abortive shopping trip, she had bought some bits online but hadn’t ventured into a shop again.
That was fine for jeans and tops, but for suits, they really needed to be tailored, and she had no idea where to start.
The suits she had were trouser suits, but they were cut for women, and she hated how her hips looked in them.
She also hated that there was nowhere she could shove her hands.
Despite how badly the dinner suit had fitted her, she had liked the number of useful pockets.
Groaning, she remembered that her mother needed to know about the opera trip her grandmother was setting up. She checked the dates and put them in her diary. As she did, she noticed a gap in her schedule, so quickly texted Gemma.
Rory:
Hey, good morning to you too. Can you be free on Thursday? I thought perhaps we could go shopping again. Midweek should mean fewer crowds and less dickheads.
Gemma:
Lemme check
Rory tapped her foot as she waited to hear from Gemma.
She could go on her own, but like so many things, having Gemma with her was so much better.
It was the same as the gym. The sessions with Isaac and Gemma were much better than the ones she did on her own.
She was lost in her thoughts when her phone pinged again.
Gemma:
I have a meeting in the morning I can’t move, but all yours Thursday afternoon.
The text was followed by a lot of winky faces, and Rory felt her cheeks warm.
While she was in thoughts of exactly what they could get up to Thursday evening, the train arrived at her stop, and she joined the mass of people swarming for the exit.
She was never sure if it was her legs or the collective swell of people that steered her towards the exit, but soon she was spat out into the blazing summer sun.
Summer heat in London hit differently than in the countryside.
She never knew if it was the traffic, the buildings or just the sheer number of people crowding the streets.
For a moment, she craved the openness of the countryside and the gentle breeze that had accompanied her and Gemma as they had cuddled together next to the swimming pool.
As she walked the short distance to her office, she tried to enjoy the oppressive heat as much as possible.
It wouldn’t be long before the weather was cold and dreary, and the commute would be brutal.
She entered the building on autopilot and soon had dumped her bag into the chair next to her desk.
Opening her laptop, she took a sip of the coffee her assistant had left for her.
Before long, hours had slipped by until, just before lunch, the door to her office flew open and her boss poked his head in.
“Morning, just wanted to check the meeting for Wednesday…” His voice trailed off and he pulled himself fully into her office.
It wasn’t the biggest office in the firm, but it was big enough and one she had earned through many late nights and extra weekends. She sat back in her chair and looked him square in the eye.
“What the devil have you done to your hair?” His grey eyebrows pulled together, and he frowned.
“Well, I cut it, obviously. Although to be exact,” she paused for effect, “my barber Craig cut it, and I paid him to do it.”
“Oh well, um,” he spluttered and pulled himself fully into her room. “It’s erm,” he stalled and dropped into a chair. “Do you know it makes you look like a boy?”
Heat rushed through her, and she curled her hands into fists.
Anger suffused her, and she had to bite her lip in frustration.
Yes, she’d had a few odd glances this morning and a couple of double takes as she’d walked to her office, but that only made her stand taller and prouder of who she was becoming.
He crossed one leg over the other. She noticed that most of the older male lawyers did that rather than propping an ankle on a knee.
It was more elegant, softer even, and she made a note of it.
She found she was making note of how many of her male colleagues acted and filing it away for future reference.
She took a few calming breaths and willed her thumping heart to slow.
This wasn’t like her. Normally at work, she was the calm and collected one.
She was the one they sent into tense negotiations and interviews because she never reacted to opposing counsel or clients.
But now, now she was fuming, and she didn’t know why.
She bit back all the swear words that were bubbling inside her.
“Yes, that was the idea.” She swallowed.
“I’ve not been feeling like myself recently.
After a lot of soul searching and talking with my girlfriend,” a flash of joy bubbled in her heart at calling Gemma her girlfriend, piercing the tense moment, “I realised I want to express myself in a more masculine way from now on.”
“Huh,” John said thoughtfully. He looked at his fingernails and then back up to her.
“So are your pronouns he/him or something else?”
Rory felt her stomach drop before it settled back into place.
This was not a question she had been prepared for this morning.
Craig had asked her the same question on Saturday as he cut her hair.
The initial reaction was to answer she/her, but Rory wasn’t sure if that was because it was how she felt, or just habit to answer that way.
She had been determined to think about it over the weekend, but then Gemma had stroked her neck in the car and her plans had gone to hell in the most pleasurable way.