Chapter 32 #3
Rory’s eyes softened as he took in my words. “Yeah, Blair told me you wrote a play when you were still in New York. Have you been writing this whole time?”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s always been there. I don’t think you know this—I don’t think anyone knows this—but my mom tried to get something of mine published when I was around twelve.
But that was just unrealistic-overly-enthusiastic-mom behavior.
The diaries have always been a thing, and I’ve twisted and fictionalized them, turning them into stories and scripts.
I would miss auditions because I didn’t want to stop writing.
” I smirked. “I guess I like the feeling of being somewhere else.”
Rory let a small smile slip through his lips.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Déjà vu.” He pressed his finger into my knee. “So, you’ve written stuff based on your diaries?”
I laughed. “I mean, it’s not literal, it’s not based on, but it’s inspired by, I guess. Oh god . . .” I closed my eyes with anticipation. “I know what’s coming next.”
Rory chuckled, keeping his finger poking into my knee. “What am I going to ask?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you in anything I’ve written.”
His smile grew. “Am I?”
I looked to the ceiling, took a moment to consider my options, then decided to be honest. “You’re in everything I write,” I admitted.
Rory looked at me and blinked. I could tell he was stunned.
“Everyone I’ve ever loved is. You, Ben, Hannah, Kara, Zoe, Lucas, Blair, everyone.
It’s a nugget of a real thing that happened, or a real feeling I had.
All the people and feelings get mixed together, so it’s never inspired by just one thing or just one person, but you’re all in there somewhere .
. . everywhere. You’re everywhere, Rory.
So, yeah, it’s kind of real, but also not at all.
Kind of like me.” I smiled meekly, but I could feel my voice shaking as I finished my thought.
Rory looked at me. He removed his hand from my leg.
“Ellie, when I said that you weren’t real, and that we weren’t real, the night before you moved away .
. .” He let out a deep breath. I waited, letting Rory say what he needed to, even though I didn’t need to hear it anymore.
He closed his eyes and put his palms together, twisting them in two different directions.
“That night and everything that followed . . . it completely altered the course of my life. I can trace everything back to that moment.” Rory opened his eyes again and pressed his mouth together. “I’m sorry.”
“I forgave you a long time ago.” I placed my hand gently on Rory’s leg.
“Though I’ve had a harder time forgiving myself.
I’m not sure if I ever said I’m sorry for everything I did, too, and all the hurt I caused, but I am.
I’m very sorry, Rory. I have a lot of regrets.
I made a lot of mistakes.” I pushed out a quick breath, trying to release the tension.
I lifted my hand. “The good news is, if you can trace everything back to that night, then maybe our disaster is the reason you have the spectacular life you have today. You’re welcome. ” I smiled.
“It hasn’t been that easy for me,” he said quietly, then straightened his body and cleared his throat. “We can get into that another time. But right now, it’s late, and I’m so absolutely screwed for tomorrow. I should really get going.”
“Okay. Yes, totally.” I stood, adjusting my jean shorts and my new black Titleist hat. I looked at my phone for the first time all night. I had forty-seven unread text messages from my Lover Ladies text thread.
“Wait, your tee time is eight o’clock? Rory, it’s two thirty! How did that happen? Did you know that happened?”
“Yes, I knew that happened.” Rory stood beside me, and somehow managed to sling both golf bags over his shoulders. “If I’d wanted to leave, I would have.” I reached for my bag, but he twisted his body and pulled out his phone to order me an Uber.
“Let me carry my bag,” I argued, knowing he would fight me on it.
“No.” He took a step away from me and walked toward the exit. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”
“No, we’re off on Monday. One more night celebrating Zoe. You?”
“Well, I was supposed to take off after I play in the morning, but . . .”
“But?” My heart leapt into my throat.
Rory grinned but kept his attention forward as we stepped into the Vegas late-night heatwave. “But do you think I could tag along tomorrow? Would the birthday girl mind?”
“I think she would be okay with it.”
Rory led the way to the rideshare line and flagged down the black Tesla that he called for me.
After storing my golf bag in the car’s trunk, he opened the door and leaned in to talk to the driver.
“I’m Rory. You’re going to the Cosmopolitan, right?
” Rory confirmed with the driver then opened his body to me, giving me space to get into the car.
“Can you please text me when you get into your room? Just so I know you’re safe? ” he asked me.
“Okay.” My voice was thicker than usual as I stepped toward the open door. Rory nodded. He kept one hand on the door and placed the other on the roof, trapping me in the small space between the Uber and his arms. We weren’t touching, but I could still feel him, and I wondered if he could feel me.
If this were a date, this would be where he kissed me good night.
Or pressed his hand into my stomach, pushing us both into the car, and came back to my hotel room.
But this wasn’t a date. I saw his eyes flick down to my mouth, and I couldn’t help but bite my bottom lip.
He smiled. We were both thinking the same thing.
“Good night, Ellie.” He let out a slow breath when his eyes lifted back to mine. His hands gripped the car door tightly before he released his hold and stepped back, giving us distance.
“Good night, Rory.” I smirked, and he let out a silent, awkward yet self-aware laugh.
“I’ll see ya.” Rory stepped back onto the curb.
I gave him a small wave and ducked into the Uber. Once I closed the door, I finally let myself breathe again.
When I got back to the room, Hannah, Kara, Zoe, and Maddy were all up, waiting to hear every salacious detail of my night. I entered the suite carrying my new golf bag with my new high-end clubs, and wearing Rory’s black hat, and the silence was palpable.
“Nothing happened.”
“Bull. Shit,” Maddy stated emphatically.
After that, no one believed me, and everyone lost their minds.
The next morning, as we were getting ready for the pool party, I flipped the television to the sports channel. My heart expanded so violently I could feel it in my neck when I saw Rory teeing off on the ninth hole. He was wearing my bright-blue Dodgers hat.