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chapter ten: the ballad of a super rich girl

a/n:

title inspired by ballad of a homeschooled girl bc that's so rory to her core </3

tw(s) — teenagers drinking; myrtleman, rarlie, (basically just the entire shipping rory with anyone but averman community) and chadam angst; rory's childhood

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A few hours later, long after her boyfriend went home to his parents and not too long after they sat through a pre-game practice that was mostly Wilson telling them that they need to be a team until he was blue in the face, Rory pretends to do her homework.

She scribbles nonsensical loops in the corner of her notebook page, her chin resting on her fist and her mind far from anything even remotely close to the advanced math she's supposed to be doing. A day that was supposed to be about her reclaiming her status and stopping trying to fit into the nicest rich kid we've ever met box that some of the only friends she ever really had put her in has ended with her being worse off than she started. Not only did she make a complete fool of herself and piss off the biggest guy on her team, but she also learned entirely too much about the rest of them from her boyfriend, the new side of whom she wasn't entirely sure she liked.

All she did, in the end, was put someone else's clothes on and fail to fit in them—— as was the story of her life, apparently.

Sitting back in her chair, pencil laid flat on her abandoned work, Rory rubs her palms into her eyes and tries to think of anything else.

"Oh, my god!" Rachel squeals from behind her. When Rory looks over her shoulder, she finds that Rachel (who was rifling through her stuff with her reluctant consent because she refused to embarrass herself in Rachel's clothes a second time that day) is pulling something out of her closet and grinning widely. "This is so cute! Why didn't you tell me you had this?"

Rory blinks as Rachel peers at her from around the baby-pink, strapless with a sweetheart neckline dress of her nightmares.

...

..

.

Okay, maybe she wouldn't rather think about just anything else.

"I didn't know I had it." Rory half-lies. She is sure that it was a gift from someone for her sixteenth, but she doesn't remember who.

"You should totally wear this to the party!"

The reminder of the rapidly approaching party—— which was the whole reason behind Rachel playing in her closet in the first place—— has Rory turning back to her homework with a barely suppressed groan. She was eager about it earlier but now, in the face of everything, she wishes the ground would swallow her whole.

Thankfully, her savior (for now) comes in the form of a knock on the door. A familiar knock.

"Hey," Rick says with a grin, opening the door before either of them could even say anything, much to the chagrin of his sister, "guess what?"

Before Rachel could make a snippy comment, Rory, relieved to be free of all party-related conversation, jumps on it.

"What?"

She ignores the look that Rachel shoots in her direction and swivels around fully in her chair.

"Your jacket came in." He finally steps into their room and holds out the hanger he had been hiding behind the door.

"Oh."

With furrowed brows, she reaches out and holds the bottom of it as soon as he's close enough. It's much more solid than she expects it to be, even if she knows what they're like because she's already worn Rick's. Mostly red with white sleeves and lined with a nice fabric that's cool to the touch, it's incredibly masculine, even at such a small size. The big white EH patch that's been sewn into the spot that'll rest over the left side of her chest daunts her slightly.

She does note, though, that her initials have been scrawled onto the tag with vague amusement.

"This is..."

"Yeah." He finishes for her, hands on his hips. "It's official, Rory—— you can rep the Eden Hall Warriors wherever you go."

Smiling tightly, she stares up at him and slides her arm through the sleeve as he holds it up for her. If this is supposed to be a good thing, then why does it feel like she's willingly walking into her death? A sign of acceptance so soon after being burned doesn't feel right to a girl whose skin doesn't feel right on her bones, and there's an inexplicable ache inside her as the lingering ghosts of friendship past and present fight over their differing ideals within the confines of her chest.

Rick stares back like he gets it. His expression is gentle as she slips her arm into the other sleeve, and she wonders if he actually gets it as much as he thinks he does—— if he's ever felt the burning she feels in her chest when he wasn't smoking a cigarette.

(There is also a much quieter thought. A sad, needy, pathetic little voice that wonders if his gentleness is reserved for her and her alone.)

"How do you feel?" Rachel asks.

"I feel..." She almost frowns but Rick's stormy eyes keep her expression normal. "I feel cool."

Rick grins rather suddenly and picks a piece of lint off her shoulder. "Good. You look cool."

Rachel nods, one hand on her hip and the other still holding the dress up.

"Red is a good color on you."

She doesn't say thank you. She doesn't know if she can.

"Now, c'mon. We have a game to win."

Rory nods silently and leaves her work behind, getting up to go to her bag.

"We have to be back up here ASAP so we can get ready." Rachel reminds her as she picks up her bag. "Oh, and bring Adam, too! He can't escape from this, either."

"Are you running a military operation out of here or something——"

"Shut up, Rick."

Shaking her head, Rory promises to drag Adam into Rachel's shenanigans and then follows her captain out of her bedroom, unable to shake the feeling in her stomach.

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The crowd is going wild. What a shame, Rory thinks, that she's been spoiled by bigger, wilder crowds.

More than half of them, a sea of fans wearing red and black merch, greets the Eden Hall Warriors with raucous cheering as they get onto the ice. They skate in a circular formation, a pre-game warmup ritual that allows them to get into the groove of things and also builds anticipation in the crowd, and when they're done and start to head back to the bench, Rory lags behind them. She's searching the crowd, more frantically than she'd care to admit, when Adam comes to stand beside her.

"What's up?" He asks, nudging her with his elbow as he tries to follow her gaze. "Don't tell me your dad's here."

(The reminder of their silly little club back when they were in LA makes her, suddenly, nauseous.)

"He's not." She assures him.

Eventually, she finds what—— or, rather, who—— she was looking for and points up to the crowd so Adam can look, too. Les is sitting with both of his parents, the three of them searching the ice for her, and her boyfriend smiles when he catches her gaze, pointing her out, too, for Mr. and Mrs. Averman.

"Averman is here." Rory breathes, unsure as to why her stomach feels heavy with dread.

Adam looks at her, hears the shakiness in her tone, and then looks up at the family all the way up in the stands and cocks his head.

"Are we happy about this or?"

She has to think about it for a moment.

(Oh, shit.)

On one hand, yeah. A part of her, however small, is thrilled to see her boyfriend coming here. The mere thought of him going out of his way to be supportive of her gives her this strange sort of rush, a swirling feeling that fans out across her chest and gives her goosebumps.

On the other hand, she has a sneaking suspicion that he's only really here more because he pissed her off earlier and less anything else. The way he spoke to her—— the baseless accusations in his tone when he spoke about her relationship with Rick—— gives her the impression that they're not in a good place, and that impression drowns out any thoughts of romance with the feeling that his support is only performative.

And, anyway, she's really tired of Charlie's shit. She doesn't want to be told she's manipulating her boyfriend into betraying his friends, too, just because he showed up to a game she didn't want him to.

"I don't know." She shrugs.

Adam turns to her, brows furrowed, but she goes back to the bench before he can ask her what she means.

"Took you long enough Myrtle." Wilson tells her as she puts her helmet shield down.

She apologizes, puts in her mouthguard, and then they do their chant.

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They beat the River Valley Sailors six to three, and Rory scores half of those points.

She's only in her underwear when they come out of the showers but she keeps to herself as they all chatter, excited, around her. There's too much on her mind—— everything from a relationship that might not make it to see the sun to the party she's about to be forced to endure—— for her to enjoy any kind of post-game discussion, let alone with a bunch of guys that she's sure only tolerate her because Rick makes them. Cole, for example, sets an evil glare onto her from across the room when Labine pats her on the back for her contribution to the game, but Rory ignores that, too, because whatever he says to Darrow (whose name is Kyle, apparently, and who formally invited Rory to the party ten minutes ago as if he wasn't naked save for the towel around his waist) makes him roll his eyes.

Adam comes to her just minutes into her attempt to block out the world, though, looking as pale as a ghost and still damp from his shower.

"There's a party?" He says, sounding nauseous as he interrupts all of her thoughts. "There's a party and we're being forced to go?"

Rory looks at him, slightly owlish.

It's easy to forget that, as they both adjust to this new era of their lives, he doesn't talk to anyone but her (and maybe a frustratingly social Bobby.) She's supposed to tell him about things like this because no one else will until it's too late.

And because when he finds things out at the last minute he freaks the hell out.

"We're not being forced... Well, okay, we are, but you'll be fine I promise."

Adam stares back at her like she has three heads.

"I've never been to a party—— well, never been to a party like this." His self-correction comes with a flash of hurt in his eyes and a slight furrow to his brow.

Rory wants to tell him that she would rather be sitting at his house and watching a movie with the ducks, too, but she doesn't. The words won't come out.

"Just stay with me." She says instead. "Do what I do and you'll be fine."

Adam's expression twitches into doubt and Rory tries not to be offended by it. She puts her jacket on again and picks up her bag of gear, and Adam follows her as she makes her leave.

Les is waiting by the exit in the parking lot when they emerge from the building and Adam hangs back, taking Rory's bags so she can meet her boy in the middle. The redhead kisses her vigorously, hands holding either side of her face tightly, and her hands instinctively wander up his shoulders. (It helps her, for a moment, ignore the way that her stomach is heavy with dread.)

A flash causes them both to jump away from each other. The person behind it is a boy no older than fourteen and he smiles toothily when they turn to him.

"Seriously?" She crosses her arms over her chest, feeling needlessly exposed. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

The boy shrugs.

"You think you're a real David Brinkley, don't you?" Les snorts, gesturing for the boy to go away.

Eventually, under their withering gazes, he does.

"I'm sorry. I can't even avoid the photographer for the school newspaper."

"It's fine. The press comes with the package. I know that." He smiles softly. "So is this it? The jacket?"

Rory gnaws on the inside of her cheek and nods as he insincerely admires her clothing, running his hands down her arms.

"Yeah. It is."

"Would you take a look at that?—— my girl, a varsity athlete." Averman continues even if all she wants to do is take him and shake him, tell him that his being outwardly mean would be better than all this faking. "Red is your color."

Rory glances away when his finger lingers over the patch.

"Say, uh, my parents are getting the car, but they told me to tell you that you can come to dinner if you want."

"I'd love to, but I can't." She forces herself to meet his eye. "There's this, uh, party tonight."

"A party, huh?"

"Yeah. One of the guys is throwing it, and half of the school is going—— maybe you guys can come, too? Get to know some people?"

He smiles, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "I appreciate the last-minute invitation, but me and my friends will pass."

Rory's stomach lurches and her eyebrows furrow.

"What's your——"

"Rory!"

The shrill call of her name came hurtling through the air from Rachel, who kamikazied her way into their conversation at just about the same speed she had the parking lot.

Adam yelps when the brunette grabs him by the back of his coat like someone scruffs a cat.

"I have to go." Rory says hurriedly instead of saying the mean thing she was going to say. "I will call you later."

Averman nods, his hands in his pockets, "Okay. I'll talk to you then."

There's an awkward, stagnant silence where neither of them does anything, and then she walks away with one last half-smile in his direction.

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Rory, dressed in the shockingly pink dress that Rachel pulled from her closet, sits on a stool at the floating island in Kyle Darrow's kitchen and wishes the ground would swallow her whole.

There were entirely too many people when they arrived. The person they'd hitched a ride from (because Rachel planned on drinking and Rory refused to damage her buggy) had to drop them off out front and go look for parking alone, and wading through the masses of people in the yard alone took several minutes. She coped with it as well as she could—— pushed all thoughts of her relationship to the back of her mind and smiled her way through conversations with Rachel's too-cool friends, all the while making sure that her Adam, whose bitten-jagged nails dug crescents into the skin of her arm, wasn't being separated from her—— but it all got too much too fast.

And, after Rachel disappeared with her flavor of the night (determined to make Scott jealous), when a long-haired boy offered to share his weed if she made out with him, she decided that both she and Adam had done all the socializing they needed and his them both in the room that had the least amount of traffic. The kitchen.

They've been sitting here ever since, Rory picking at chips and Adam too deep in thought to make much of a conversationalist.

"Next Friday," She sighs, tired of not talking, "we can just... get a pizza and watch 90210 at your place, or something."

Adam nods, but she's not sure he's listening to her.

Instead of pushing, even if she really wants to, she reaches across the table to grab the salsa.

He finally turns to her just as she shoves a chip into her mouth. "Hey, Ror, you know how you were telling me about that thing Averman gave you? What they were saying about Bobby?"

Rory's eyebrows pinch together, slightly, and she casts a quick glance around the room before she nods.

"Do you—— Do you think it's wrong? To, uh, be what they think Bobby is?"

"No. Of course, not." She says simply. "What kind of question is that?"

Adam shrugs and avoids her gaze but his body sags with a kind of relief that has Rory sitting up straighter.

Oh. She thinks.

And then, Why aren't I more surprised?

"I... Well," Rory clears her throat, "that makes a lot of sense."

The boy seems to go through a series of differing emotions before appearing confused. "How'd you know?"

"I didn't know, per se. It was just an inkling... You and Charlie..."

She makes a vague gesture. At the mention of their former friend, Adam's face screws up.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Adam sniffs. "Me and Charlie."

"I'm so sorry." Rory says, because there's nothing else she can think to say.

"It's whatever. He's into girls. It wouldn't have happened even if he didn't hate my guts."

Her mind returns to the lunchroom that day, and Adam's hostility toward the brunette Charlie was talking to suddenly makes sense.

"Hell," Adam continues, voice deadpan, "I'm like ninety-five percent sure that he's really into you."

The atmosphere of the room changes, like a tornado is about to form right there between the dishes in the cabinet, and Rory chokes on air like she's just been punched in the gut.

"What?"

"Yeah," Adam says it like it's simple—— as if he didn't just rock her world. "Jesse and Dean, did, too. They'd never met you or Julie before, so it was exciting, and you're so kind and pretty and, y'know, actually into guys, but I guess Charlie's feelings persisted. I think that's why he's so mad at you."

Oh, god, Rory thinks, I'm going to hurl.

The kitchen spins around her but she's as stiff as a statue as the past year of her life replays in her mind. Every interaction—— every sly remark, all the times Jesse referred to her as 'their' girl and Dean showed her a rare softness that he showed (nearly) nobody else—— flashes before her eyes at a nauseating speed. Every time she talked to Charlie, comforted him, touched him; that time in Bombay's basement when he told her that she wasn't alone.

(The special edition of her favorite book that he got her for her birthday, the one which he spent three months of allowance on, that is under her pillow back at home, and the brunette girl with blue eyes that he's been hanging out with since she's been gone.)

Rory grips the edge of the counter for stability.

"Why's he so mad at you, then?" She implores because what else is she supposed to say?

Adam shrugs again.

They fall back into silence, and Rory struggles to breathe.

"I think I'm in love with Lester." She says, quiet, after a few minutes, her eyes wide and staring at nothing in particular. "I have no idea what that means, though, and I think we're not working out."

Rory isn't sure why she confessed, too, but it felt appropriate.

"What?"

"I don't know. He's mad at me... Which is fine, I guess, 'cause everyone's always mad at me all the time."

"I'm not." Adam smiles softly. "Never have been."

That's, for whatever reason, the straw that breaks the camel's back, though, and, ten minutes later, Rory gets one of the bigger boys to pump the keg for her and drinks her first drink.

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On the opposite side of Minneapolis, Averman, holed up in his bedroom and wearing his Team USA sweats, ignores his mother's order to hang up and come down to dinner.

The minute he got home after he was brutally rejected by his girlfriend, he called Augustine, who answered in just two rings. (The Buckley family, though he's unaware of this, has caller ID.) They've been talking about his woes with Rory, just as she has ever since his girlfriend moved up to Varsity and started hanging with those guys like they weren't complete assholes, ever since, under the guise that he's asking her about the answers to their chemistry homework.

"I just don't understand what good she sees in him."

Augustine sighs (which is, again, something she always does when he starts going on like this.)

"I don't think you're seeing this from her point of view, Les."

Lester's eyebrows furrow. He wants to tell her how strange this is—— she told him about the website because she hates those guys so much, after all, so why is she suddenly defending his girlfriend's decision to defend them?

"What is there to see?——"

"Things are really rough all over." Augustine says, "They will always know each other better than either one of us could know them, and you and I understand one another better than either of them could understand us. It's simple math, Lester."

She goes on to say something about pressure from society and a modern-day caste system, but Averman has already heard everything he wanted to hear.

His girlfriend is hanging out with guys who will understand her better than he ever will, and he can't do anything about it.

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By the time it reaches three am, Rory is a little more than a little tipsy, and she tells Adam that she loves him.

"Not in a romantic kind of way, of course." She says a few seconds later, a lazy smile on her face.

Adam smiles, too, but a lot more playfully. "Wow. Just when I thought I might actually be able to hold something over Charlie's head for once."

Rory laughs at the mention of Charlie, but it's a sharp, painful-sounding laugh that makes her cover her face with both hands.

"You could hold your father over his head." Her voice is muffled but audible enough for Adam to nearly snort soda up his nose.

He coughs for a few seconds and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, using the other to slide her unfinished beer down the countertop and away from her.

"I think that's enough for you." He says, laughter bubbling through his voice.

She makes no complaints. She doesn't really like the taste of beer.

"Y'know, I've been thinking."

Adam looks up from dabbing a napkin on the forming stain on the front of his shirt. "...Maybe you shouldn't be doing that right now."

That earns him a dramatic roll of her eyes, and she speaks over him, slightly.

"I've been thinking about how we don't really have friends anymore—— and how both of our families suck." She swallows. "And I know that I don't compare to the rest because you've known them forever, but maybe we can be best friends? 'Cause, like, my step-mom doesn't talk to any of her family anymore, but she's always having her best friends from college over to hang out with my sister, and they're like a little family of their own."

Rory's tangent fades into nothing as she starts to wonder if she's made the point she wanted to, or if she even had a point in the first place, but he smiles at her with twinkling eyes.

"You're not going to remember this tomorrow morning——"

"Yes, I am."

"——But, sure. Best friends. Family." He puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes it.

Rory nods with a sniff, happy that he understood what she meant.

"Now, let's find someone who can take us home, alright?"

Mind scrambled, she allows him to take her by the hand and lead her through the last dregs of the party. Eventually, they stumble upon Rick, sober as he was when they last saw each other, and Scott, also sober but struggling to wrangle Rachel (who is definitely drunker than Rory.)

"Hey," Rick half-shouts over the music, "I was just going to check if you two were still here!"

Scott nods, acknowledging them, and, despite her attempts to lean into him, holds her roommate at a respectful distance.

"Awesome," Adam says, "Ror's had way too much beer for someone who only ate breakfast today."

Rory's nose scrunches and she turns to him.

"I ate some chips."

The three boys look at her and then at each other.

"I drove here. I can take you home." Scott tells Adam.

"Oh, great," Rick huffs, "why do I have to deal with drunk and drunker?"

Rory indignantly insists that she is not drunk but she is ignored because Rachel is much louder in her indignance.

"Oh, no. I am not getting in that death trap you call a car!" She's surprisingly coherent for a girl who can barely stand.

Rick scoffs. "You love my car."

"Not when you drive it."

Rory watches as his body starts to get taught the more he gets frustrated and feels a squirming in her stomach that makes her nauseous for a third time that day.

"C'mon, Rach, it'll be easier on everybody——"

Rachel gives her a look, one that both tells Rory that she's more aware than she's letting on and tells her to butt out of her scheme to hang out with Scott, and she stops talking.

"It's fine, Rick," Scott waves a dismissive hand, "just get that one back safely, alright? Her dad will burn the whole place down otherwise."

Rory's nose scrunches. Her father doesn't give a crap about her. He's paying a whole lot of money to get rid of her for a few months (and to distract everyone from the fact that his father, corporate mogul, is dying.)

He's spent a whole lot of money so he didn't have to raise her himself.

"Alright... C'mon. Let's leave before the cops get called."

Scott wraps Rachel's arm around his neck and half-carries her out of the house. Adam walks a few paces behind them, hands in his pockets as he tries to ignore Rachel's various attempts to involve him in the argument she and Scott are currently having, and Rory and Rick are behind him, her struggling to balance in the heels that she was loaned.

"She's a real pain in my ass." He grumbles now that they're out of earshot.

"She's not so bad." Rory defends, pushing some hair out of her face so it doesn't get stuck in her lipgloss. "She's just... so headstrong, and has a huge crush on him."

"I know that."

Rory giggles at the look of pure dismay on his face. When she stumbles, slightly, he offers her his arm to hold onto and she takes it.

Rick and Scott, having gotten here earlier than most, both parked relatively close to the house. Rory stands there and admires Scott's old truck for a moment before she's forced to return to the task at hand; Adam hugs her tightly and Rachel presses a sweet kiss to her cheek, leaving behind a big red mark, before Scott puts her into the car. Rory gets into the passenger seat of Rick's with no help and hugs herself, too consumed by the cold to care about what the two of them are talking about just a few feet away from her.

When Rick gets in, he gives her his jacket again, and she takes it with a mild complaint.

"Your cigarettes stink."

Rick glances over at her as he turns the key in the ignition. "I can take it back."

"No. Thank you for giving it to me. I just—— your cigarettes stink."

"...Noted."

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Rory wakes up about thirty minutes later when the car stops moving, head throbbing and neck sore from being bent at a strange angle. Just as the dregs of her mid-nap dream escape her, she suffers from a sudden onslaught of sleep inertia.

There is a hand gently touching her arm and the shadow of someone looming over her, and some intense smell that tickles her nose. Then, a flash of blue eyes shine through the dark, spinning surroundings, and Rory, feeling a sharp jerk behind her navel, does something she'll regret more than drinking in the first place——

"Charlie?"

"Nuh-uh." Rick's face, and the rest of the world, become frighteningly clear after he speaks. "That's the wrong captain, sweetheart. Try again."

Rory blinks, both relieved and (strangely) disappointed, and sighs a sigh that ages her.

"Oh, man. I'm sorry. He's just... been on my mind."

She heaves breaths as she speaks in an attempt to not throw up all over him.

"Don't be." Rick smiles and is more amused by this than anything else. "You're tipsy, and a mind full of Conway sounds like hell to me, so maybe I should be apologizing to you."

She smiles and laughs, pretending like there isn't a burn of tears behind her nose.

"Can you walk?"

"Maybe..."

For a second time that week, Rick, carrying as much of her weight as he can without actually carrying her, walks Rory all the way back to her dorm, only stopping once to hold her hair as her breakfast and the several cups of beer she drank repeated on her.

It's still abandoned, as messy as it was when they left it, when they get there. He sighs at the sight of it.

"I guess they're stuck in traffic." He says as he sits her down on her bed. "How much do you want to bed that Rachel's giving him hell right now?"

Rory, who spent the better half of the evening being his sister's living doll, laughs, and then her nose wrinkles in response to the pain

"A lot."

Rick laughs, too. Then he kneels in front of her.

"'M sorry, but I don't know you well enough to marry you." She jokes. "And I don't think my boyfriend'd be too happy about that."

Rick shakes his head and chuckles again, half a smile on his face. To her surprise, though, he takes one of her calves in hand. She watches, her head tilted, as he undoes the buckle on one of the heels Rachel loaned to her.

The action is... intimate. Intimate in a way that she's unused to, his touch warm and gentle in a way that doesn't suit his frame.

Intimate in a way that makes her squirm.

"Why?.... You don't... have to do that. 'M fine."

"Yeah, because I'm going to bank on the word of someone who has to pause every few seconds to keep from puking." He jokes, removing the heel and putting it to the side before starting with the other one. "And I do have to do this. You can't do this yourself."

"I thought you were... above doing what could be paid labor."

She swallows bile after forcing that out.

"I've never said anything like that." He shrugs and stands up again once the shoe is off, face strangely intense as he looks down at her. "And people shouldn't have to be paid to want to take care of you."

And that sobers her up a great deal.

"There's something you need to see in the top drawer of my desk."

Rick lifts a brow but, pinned beneath her watery gaze, he complies.

"What's this?"

"It's a bunch of printouts of a... a, uh, forum?" She wishes she could go back in time to punch herself in the face. "They've posted a bunch of stuff about you guys. My—— Les gave it to me. He wanted me to use it against you guys but I thought it was cruel."

Rick sniffs and only looks away from her to give the top page a once over.

"I know about this stuff." He shrugs but she can tell that he's... uncomfortable with the fact that he has to face this.

(Or, maybe, just the fact that she's aware of it.)

"It's okay... That Bobby's gay."

"We don't have to talk about this."

"And that Jeff's maybe a bit of an addict, and that Danny's girlfriend's a... 'whore.'" She makes air quotes.

"Rory." Rick's being a little curt with her now but his voice is strangled. "Just go to bed."

"It's okay, especially, that you cried."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Rory, bottom lip between her teeth, shakes her head. There are tears in her eyes.

He sits on the edge of her bed with a sigh.

"If I'd known you were an emotional drunk I'd have told Kyle to make sure you didn't drink."

Rick tries to phrase it like it's a joke but he says it too flatly for it to land.

"When I was little, my step-siblings used to make me play the dog." She whispers, staring at the side profile of his face as he turns to look back at her over his shoulder. "All that meant was that my step-brother wouldn't stop his sister from locking me in a dog cage, and they'd leave me to cry in the kennel all day... or, at least, until one of the work staff heard me."

Everything about Rick softens. "Jesus Christ."

"I know what it's like to be so... I need you to know that it was okay to cry about it. To be upset, at least, that someone was really fucking mean to you."

He stares at her for a while, silent.

"There's so much about you that nobody knows."

"I know." She smiles, tears rolling over her cheeks. "There's so much about you that they don't know, either."

"Yeah, well, I'll keep your secrets as long as you keep mine, alright?"

Rory nods and sniffles, hooking her pinky in his when he offers it.

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a/n:

word count - 5614

hahahaha yeah... i would say i'm sorry but i am not :)

the varsity boys liking rory more than she thinks they do but also being way too comfortable around this girl they've just met is the funniest thing in this story tbh.

there are so many plot twists ahead of us i am so excited. half of which you guys probably don't see coming.

me when i think about the stress that i'm going to put this poor girl through:

comments and votes are super appreciated! they let me know that you guys like my writing and they motivate me to continue! thank you