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Chapter 2: 

One Night with an Angel 

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The words played in my brain on repeat. I love you. I love you. I love you. Rory just told me he loved me.

My heart was racing as I stared into his wild, russet-brown irises set in delicately carved-out sockets. Meanwhile, the warmth and pressure of his index swelled against my lips like bathwater rising in a tub. When there wasn't even a full centimeter of space between us, the heat of our fully-clothed skin intermingled.

Then, it came out against my will. "Rory..." His name rolled off my tongue...like a breathy rasp. This was so surreal, like I was dreaming. Everything I painted in my dreams seemed to come true as a God-given gift.

"I've been in love with you since you challenged me to get on the Tilt-A-Whirl with you." Rory pulled his index away from my lips, slipping his hand into the side pocket of his bright blue leather biker jacket.

As silence lingered between us, I trained on his face, noticing how his arched, full lips kept rolling back. What went on in that mind...only God knew. However, I couldn't help wondering what went on inside his head.

"I remember that," I mused, returning my attention to him, memories of that summer day flashing through my mind: adrenaline pumping through my veins as I watched people having the time of their lives while I waited in line. After that ride, Rory and I shared our first kiss, and it was my first kiss ever. "And, eleven years later, you profess your love to me. Time works in mysterious ways."

"Indeed it does." His hand rested on my cheek. His voice was low but warm, soothing me in ways I couldn't understand.

I didn't care if it was a rebound; he was what I needed tonight. I needed him. All of him. I shifted onto my toes and breathed against Rory's lips, "Stay with me for the night." I batted my eyes and jutted my lower lip as he squinted at me. "Please."

Rory's sigh caressed my skin, and out came, "Okay." His lips shifted to my forehead, leaving a soft kiss there as he enveloped me in his arms. Tightly.

Every bit of pressure against my frame was freeing. I'd never been so alive. A single touch alone could've ignited a swarm of heat inside me, and perhaps it did. Right or wrong, it was everything I desired—my personal drug to get addicted to.

Every fake "I love you" from Ciqala left my brain. It was only Rory and me, dancing in the stars we promised one another when we were teenagers. Maybe a Katy Perry song was enough to sum it up: a teenage dream—both of us.

Rory pulled away, but only for a second before he cupped my face and pecked me on the lips. "I love you, Aisling." And he smiled, giving me space and jamming his hands into his pockets.

I strutted to the door. I looked over my shoulder at him, and my cheeks swelled warmly. "I love you, too." After a moment, I turned my attention to the door in front of me and smiled before calling out to him, "Are you coming with me?"

The floorboards groaned until a hand cupped my shoulder. "Of course," Rory said. Pure, genuine Rory Adler—it was as if he were coming back. Slowly. The Rory who wasn't plagued by cancer. Maybe today would be his only good day. There was no way of knowing. With cancer, every day was a hit or miss.

I dangled my fingers at my side. "Let's walk down together, holding hands."

With those words, Rory's fingers fit between the spaces of mine, and he gave a gentle squeeze to my knuckles. "I can't promise you forever," he said as we made our way into the hallway, side by side, "but I can promise you tonight."

"Same," I replied.

And we descended the stairs into the living room. Everyone seemed to be heading down to the cafe—everyone except Remy. "Rem-bro," Rory let out and squeezed my hand even tighter.

"Don't 'Rem-bro' me," Remy said, making his fingers into quotes at the word Rem-bro. "Rory, what are you doing? Is Tamsen out again?"

Rory and I exchanged glances, and his fingers slipped out from between mine. Then, Rory's Adam's apple bobbed as he mustered the courage to answer his twin brother. "No, Remy." And his hand fell onto my shoulder. "It's not Tamsen. I am genuinely attracted to Aisling. We're spending the night together, and there's nothing you can do about it."

I crossed my arms as Remy's light brown eyes fell on me. His lids narrowed into the shape of slits.

I adjusted my posture before chiming, "There's nothing you can do about it." My shoulders were firm.

Warmth swelled in the small of my back as Rory's hand drifted there, assuring me we would make it out without trouble. "Please, Rem, let Aisling and I have this night." Rory's voice darkened a hue. He wasn't exactly begging. More like bribing.

"What do I lose if I don't let you go?" Remy lifted the corner of his lip in a smirk. He wasn't going down without a fight.

Bring it on, I thought and glanced to the side at Rory, who wore a mischievous look on his face as he looked at me. The wheels of his russet-brown eyes turned and turned and turned. How beautiful.

After a moment, he returned to Remy, who stood in front of the door leading to the coffee shop below the penthouse. "If you don't let us be," Rory finally replied, and the room began to darken, "I will tell everyone about your pen pal from Ireland; that includes Mom and Dad."

Remy's face flushed as white as snow, a moment after which he staggered toward us. He staggered—fricking staggered as if the world trembled. He hung his head, shaking vigorously as he leaned against the nearest wall, gasping. "J-just go."

"Rem—" Rory began, but Remy cut him off.

"Just. Go." Remy put one hand to his head and groaned. "I'll be fine."

So, Remy and I made our way to the door and headed down to the coffee shop. The Cornish Cafe bustled with activity as the pitter-patter of rain played against the Victorian bay window with double-paneled windows. It was dreary outside, but I didn't mind. After all, rain led to rainbows.

However, what irked me was the memory of Remy grabbing his head and groaning as he leaned against a wall. He was in pain, yet he didn't ask for help, which by all standards, was not something TJ taught us. She always said to speak up. So, why hadn't he? Was he honestly so above admitting he was in pain he'd do anything or was it that we got to him too hard?

At the same time, Rory was putting in a request for an Uber. My apartment was about fifteen minutes away from Support Group, so it made sense to stay dry instead of walking in the pouring rain.

He smiled at me when he shoved his phone back into his pocket. My cheeks rose as I smiled back. "So, how long?"

"Five minutes."

So, I glanced around at the people filling the coffee shop with chatter. Ayita and Pilar sat in one corner of the shop, exchanging smiles, and giving a puff of laughter to the atmosphere. Their mouths were moving, but I couldn't understand anything over all the jumbled conversations going on at once.

Shit, I thought and sucked on my lips for a few moments. The plump flesh of my lips was tight against my teeth, but I liked the tightness. I always had. I always would.

I turned to face the clock. One minute went by. Then two. Then three. Then four. Then, finally... "Aisling, our ride's here."

I whirled around to see a black limousine, shiny and as perfect as if a shadow could be stretched, shaped, and mounted on wheels, parked beside the sidewalk outside the shop. I pushed through the double glass doors, Rory's footsteps behind me, slowly approaching the limo. The back door and middle door had handles facing each other, while the front side door was an island of its own.

Outside, the rain was louder and crashed against the pavement like lightning. So loud that my brain trembled from the noise.

After rain comes a rainbow, I kept telling myself as my heartbeat picked up.

Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum went my heart, and before I could reach for the door handle, Rory grabbed it with a smile. "Ladies first." And he winked nonchalantly before slowly opening it as if the interior deserved a dramatic reveal.

Shaded panels outlined the back half of the vehicle. Black leather seats made a slight U shape. Gah, it was beautiful.

My jaw unlocked. My lids lifted over my eyes. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at Rory. "Aren't your parents going to notice this?"

Rory cupped my shoulder. "Nah." After a moment, he helped me into the back of the limousine. The partition was up. There was a mini bar below the partition.

Taking a seat in the comfort of leather-clad cushioning, I poured myself a drink and took a sip. The liquid burned against my throat as it seeped down to my stomach; however, the stinging sensation of liquor faded away, and I puckered my lips a few times. "How long is this going to take?"

Rory lit up with a grin. Meanwhile, he folded his hands together in his lap — no drink. None at all. "We'll be at your apartment at eight." There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing, Aisling." He paused for a moment before gesturing to my drink. "Enjoy the night." He pursed his lips together for a moment, then... "Lord knows how long a good day will last."

So, we sat for the rest of the ride in silence. At least until our first stop.

When the partition rolled down, a guy with rich brown skin and thin black waves glanced at us. For some reason, he seemed familiar. Deep eyes that scavenged your soul. Toned muscles with arms that grasped the back of the driver's seat. "Yo, Aisling."

Only one person I knew used the word yo. "Eric?" I let out a gasp. "Is it really you?"

"In the flesh," Eric replied and winked. "How goes it? Did that pussy guy who came to our school finally find out he's not good enough for ya?"

"It's in the works. Slowly," I replied and sucked on my lips. I wasn't exactly the one to call things quits, so I had to make him want to break up with me. Ciqala was good while it lasted, but that bastard had what was coming for him.

"Slowly?" Eric echoed. He seemed to squint a little at me. After a moment, he returned to his normal voice. "Ya never stuck me for a vengeful type, girl. Este—"

"Este is a slutty bitch!" I cut Eric off, my cheeks burning with flames. Maybe it was the liquor in my system, but I wanted to throttle Eric until he died. How could he support his own fucking wife in seducing Ciqala?

So much for a peaceful evening, I said in my head.

Before I could drown in emotional flames, Rory cupped my shoulder, his fingers massaging my clothed skin, pressing deep into the flesh. "Aisling, let's go," he said and gestured to the doors.

"Okay," I breathed. In through my nose. Out through my mouth. In through my nose. Out through my mouth. Finally, every jumbled nerve relaxed in my system. And I kept breathing and breathing and breathing until I mustered the courage to push the doors open.

Outside, without any rain in sight, the maroon-brick high school where everything started awaited us. Squinting inside, the faint overhead lights brightened the drab entry and narrow hallway, and an excited flutter swelled in my stomach.

"Lincoln High," I said, touching the old bricks that had made up fifty years of the school's exterior. Fifty years which, my grandparents fell in love, and the same went for Aunt Maura.

"Are you wondering why we're here?" Rory asked. When I nodded, a smile lit up on his face, and his eyes had a mischievous glint. But he didn't say anything. With his hands jammed in the side pockets of his biker jacket, and his head tilting to the side, he didn't seem to give anything up.

"Why are we h—"

Before I could finish my question, an Ella Fitzgerald song began to play faintly in the distance. It had to come from the gymnasium or, at the very least, outside the gym because I could hear it.

It was one of the songs that played at Prom in my junior year. And if I recall correctly, it happened in July too. So, we could've easily been crashing a high school Prom for all I knew.

I looked at Rory, squinting at him. "Did you...?" I barely got the words out of my mouth before trailing off in faintly wavering notes.

Rory shook his head. "I knew, but this, of course, was not planned in advance." He let out a soft chuckle and took a step toward me, holding out his hand to me as the music went on in its slow, jazzy rhythm. "Do you want to dance?"

"I'd love to." And I took his hand, smiling.

We fell into a cadence syncopated with the Ella Fitzgerald song. Slow movements of our feet. Rory's free hand was on my waist, guiding me in every stride. And it was beautiful—the lyrics — everything.

While staring into his wild eyes, letting him lead me in the dance, I saw the future we could've had — a romantic life together, growing old and gray; raising children; dancing to Ella Fitzgerald every night before we went to bed. But it wasn't meant to be. Who knew whether or not we would get to see the day we became old and gray?

As the song ended, Rory pressed a kiss to the back of my hand. "How was that?" And he pulled away, making his way to the slab steps leading up to the school's entrance. He sat down on the bottom slab.

I sat next to Rory on one of the slab steps. "It was perfect," I said and placed my hand on his shoulder. "How was it for you?"

"It was everything I could ever dream of," Rory replied as he looked at me. "Gah, I wish I had said I love you before Ciqala came into your life."

"Rory," I said, giving his shoulder a squeeze, "don't live the rest of your life in regret."

He blinked, his face turning into a tender expression. "I won't." His hand rested against my cheek, and we slowly closed the space between us. Our lips crashed together, and our fingers intertwined.

Heat wafted from my toes to my head. I needed him more than ever now. And I suspected he needed me just as much. Maybe tonight wasn't some act of revenge, and perhaps tonight was about mending the past — both of ours.

* * * 

We exited the limousine at eight outside my apartment. The atmosphere was a tint colder than before, but that was normal for the middle of summer. A shudder spiraled down my spine, and I shivered, so I turned to Rory as he climbed out of the limo, waving to Eric before the door shut and the vehicle road off into the night.

"I'm a bit chilly, Ror," I said as the limo was nothing more than a shadow with a red blinker signaling under the stoplights at the intersection. It surprised me that no one was peeking out of the windows on either side of the street.

"Here." Rory began slipping his arms out of his bright blue leather biker jacket. When he noticed me watching, he continued mischievously with, "Turn around. It'll make this more romantic."

So, I turned around to face the faint-lit entrance of the apartment complex. Slowly, the leather rested on my shoulders, and I clutched the sleeves and snuck a glance at Rory.

His deliciously full lips called my name. And his arms were wired with lean muscles. But his blistering-brown eyes were dazed as he looked at the night sky. But all I knew then was that I needed him, and he needed me.

My heart went ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum. Letting go of one sleeve of the biker jacket, I offered him my hand. "Let's go inside." Good thing my apartment was on the first floor.

Our fingers interlaced, and Rory nodded. "Of course," he said.

And so, we went inside, the warm overhead lights buzzing against my arms. When we reached the end of the hall and stood outside the door to my apartment, I released my grip on Rory's hand.

"Should we start out here or—"

"You've never had sex before," Rory surmised, pinning me against the wall behind me. His breath was warm against my face.

I scoffed. "I've had sex before. I am not a virgin." I wriggled out from the weight he exerted. My back was to him.

I was about to turn back to him when he asked, "Was it good?"

Not even Ciqala had asked me how I felt about the sex after it happened. It just felt like a routine if he was up for it when he got home from work. But in honesty, sex with Ciqala was rough and awkward.

"No," I answered with a soft breath.

"Well," Rory said, clearing his throat, "tonight's going to be different."

I turned to Rory with a beaming smile. "I hope so." And I rummaged through my pocket for my keys. After turning the key, the lock clicked, and I pushed inside to see no sign of change since I left.

The lights were faint throughout the lavishly-furnished main room consisting of an opening into a modern kitchen in the back, a sheer, florid-curtained entrance into the bedroom to my right, and a door to the bathroom on the left side. In the middle of the main room was a marble counter.

"Welcome to my home," I said with a light chuckle, giving the whole jazz-hand thing a try to sound enthusiastic. After a moment, the energy in the room died down, and I sighed. "I know: it's not much, but it is mine. Partially."

Silence lingered through the main room, and I made my way over to the marble counter, placing my keys there to signify I was home for the night. Meanwhile, Rory followed me, a dark shade to his eyes as if to add feral mystery to himself. When I let out another sigh, Rory said, "I think it's charming, Ais."

He slipped his hands to my back as I turned around to face him, sliding his palms up my spine until my back arched from the warmth that swelled against my skin. Then, they finally rested on my neck, and he leaned in, kissing me. Hotly. Hungrily — everything I ever wanted out of a kiss.

My heartbeat pounded as I wrapped my arms around his neck and our frames pressed together. His heartbeat was a caged bird, begging for freedom, for an explosion of choice. After a moment, he threw his jacket off my shoulders and pinned me down against the marble counter by my shoulders, our lips pulling away. His weight kept me constrained.

"Sit up," he breathed against my face, so I did. Then, after a moment, he released the pressure he exerted against me and squeezed between my legs, and his hands were on my ass. His lips weren't even a centimeter away from mine, but the warmth of his breath found its way to my face. "Tonight will be a night to remember."

We stayed connected as he carried the weight of us of both through the florid curtain concealing the bedroom. Our kisses became sloppy and desperate — two souls burning with the need for touch and love.

My fingers tangled in his hair. Indeed, they were greasy. Well, maybe overuse of gel fit better. (Honestly, I couldn't decide whether it was grease or gel he used, but I could've overdosed in his manly musk.) I tugged at one lock, and a deep sound gave way from his throat, vibrating faintly against mine as the scent of eucalyptus filled my nose.

The bedroom burst to life. A four-poster, wrought-iron, king-sized bed was decorated with a pewter-finished canopy of twisted and textured timbers, free-flowing branches, and hand-forged leaves (at least the salesman said that when Ciqala and I bought the bed when we first moved in here.) Meanwhile, a French-styled nightstand rested an inch to the right of the bed.

My heart still went ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum after all this time. Was tonight not enough? Was I not turned on? And one final question plagued my brain: Was Rory not enough?

As he plopped down on the end of the bed, I distanced my lips from his, gasping until I finally got out the words, "My turn." I pinned him deep into the puffy mattress and covers, my hands clasping against his shoulders, and I straddled and straddled him. Each kiss we exchanged was blissful. Wet but blissful.

His skin was all rosy-red when I finished. At the same time, I could proudly declare myself aroused — a heat engulfed every inch of my skin. Meanwhile, he stared at me with wide eyes, but all he said was, "Wow."

For a moment, the mood died, leaving a pit in my stomach. But the arousal came again when he lifted my blouse over my head, his lips leaving butterflies all against my frame. Sloppy but perfect in every way.

I couldn't get enough of Rory teasing me. Ciqala never teased me when we had sex. No, we just writhed together in bed like worms. But Rory, however, was intoxicating in every manner I ever wanted. Blissfully torturous teasing.

When my blouse was off, I lifted the white polo Rory wore over his head and tossed it onto the floor before straddling him again, my fingers slipping into his tight jeans. I undid the zipper and pulled away breathlessly.

Rory took the lead and yanked my pants from my legs, kissing me, closed-mouthed, and with warm breath from his nose. Meanwhile, I snaked my tongue out, dragging it along his lower lip. A moan came from his chest.

He then pulled away, squirming as he slid out his jeans. "Are you sure about this?" he asked as his jeans made a soft crash against the floor.

I puckered my lips against his mouth. A soft sound hummed against my throat. My eyes slammed shut, savoring the moment. Every tepid moment we had together.

I scooted against him when my eyes opened, feeling his thickness through his briefs. Heat wafted through me, engulfing me in flares of arousal. Then, we met eyes, and I said, "I've never been more sure of anything." My clit pulsed against my underwear.

I needed him. Now.

So, I grabbed his hands and guided them to my pant line. Meanwhile, we kissed again and again and again. Soon my underwear was gone, as were his briefs.

We pressed against one another, his hands gripping my thighs, and a moan tore through my throat. "Gah!" It was torturous and blissful all at the same time. Being with Rory with his wild russet-brown eyes and full lips on me was enough.

My hands, meanwhile, slid onto his shoulders, digging into the lean muscles.

He slowly, so slowly, pushed inside me. Because of this, I felt every inch of him and every place where we were joined.

I tipped my head back, and a moan slipped out from me. Pure, undiluted bliss made specifically for being with Rory. Only Rory. No one else. And out came, "I love you." A breathless I love you.

I'd told Ciqala I loved him sparingly, but when I think back on it, it was more of a facade. I thought I loved him. In all truth, he was likely a rebound from Rory. So, in the morning, I would call it quits with him.

"I love you, too," Rory gritted out in a lover's purr. "More than you'll ever know, Aisling."

I clenched my teeth tightly, so tightly my TMJ might've returned, and panted through my nose. Meanwhile, Rory slowly worked his way inside me, thrusting in small movements and allowing me to adjust to every thick inch of him. After what seemed like forever, he was seated inside and grasped my hip tightly, groaning.

We moved in unison, adjusting to one another. He pulled out slightly and then plunged back in as if no time had passed. Our lips met, and we breathed each other in. Slowly. Softly.

Wetness mingled as we climaxed at the same time. My legs trembled with an orgasm. Meanwhile, Rory stopped deep inside me, and his juices filled my system.

Little did I know what was in store for me.

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Dear readers, 

Here's to my first chapter to be written at any time in the process in the year 2023. 

This was a rollercoaster for me -- writing this chapter. I know I said that it would be published on Friday the 6th, but yesterday was a bit chaotic. This book means a lot to me, so I hope you don't mind me saying this again: I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I thank you for making it to the end of this chapter. 

In the process of writing this chapter, I will admit there were several revisions. But I hope the current result is worth it. I will also admit, Rory grew on me through the process. And I hope he grew on you too. 

Anyways, what piqued your interest in this chapter? 

What do you think of Rory and his confession? 

What do you think of Aisling and her reaction? 

What do you think of Remy? And what of his secret? 

Does anyone listen to Ella Fitzgerald? 

Before I leave, let me say, 1) the next update will hopefully be on January 13th, 2023, or January 14th, 2023, and 2) all feedback is welcome and appreciated. 

Until then!

X Rue