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chapter seventeen
" Oh no, not I, I will survive
Oh, as long as I know how to love,
I know I'll stay alive. "
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NOW PLAYING: "I WILL SURVIVE" by GLORIA GAYNOR (1978)

___________

KAREN IS RORY'S lifesaver for many reasons. She had created more of a gender balance in the male-dominated house that Camila and Rory were in. She had helped Rory look like a rockstar during the Austin show. While struggling to process what Sticks had done to her, Karen and Camila had provided silent yet unwavering support as Rory had crumbled in their arms. She's Rory's rock.

And she has attractive musician friends.

Karen nearly spits out her drink when Rory comes to her and asks if she has any friends she could set Rory up with. It's the day after the Festival of Life. Still stung by Warren's excitement over the girl flashing him, she had decided on the plane back to California that she should probably start moving on from her unrequited feelings.

But Karen's initial shock over the out-of-the-blue request doesn't last long. She's already deep in thought, mentally rifling through the people she knows and weighing the pros and cons of each of them. Rory catches some of the things she mumbles under her breath. "Harrison... no, too much of a hippie. Peter? I think he's got a girlfriend now..."

She snaps her fingers as the idea hits her. "I've got it." Then, without bothering to explain, she gets to her feet and snatches the rotary phone from the receiver, quickly dialing a number.

"What?" Rory asks. She turns around in her chair. "Who are you calling?" Her question goes unanswered. "Hellooooo?"

Karen merely gives her a mischievous smirk as she holds the phone to her ear. Then she brightens when the person on the other hand answers. "Hi, Tommy, it's Karen. Sirko, yeah. Listen, I'm asking for a friend... are you single? Yeah? Perfect. I've got this amazing friend..."

She has the audacity to turn the other way and start speaking more quietly so Rory can't hear. Rory's cheeks burn. She hadn't expected Karen to call someone straight away, but then again, she should know her by now. Karen is a go-getter. She makes things happen.

After a few more minutes, Karen hangs up. Rory straightens. "Well?"

But she still doesn't bother to respond. Instead, Karen rifles through the contents of their junk drawer until she locates a pen and a yellow legal pad. She plops the paper onto the table and slides back into her seat across from Rory, scribbling furiously. Then she slides the pad around so Rory can read it.

Tomás "Tommy" Lopez. 22. Pianist. Scandia, Tuesday, 6 o'clock.

Rory looks up at her in shock. "You scheduled a date?"

"Figured you might chicken out otherwise."

"I don't even know him!"

"That's what dates are for, sweetheart," Karen says with a too-bright smile for how horrified Rory is looking at her. Realizing that she's only going to make Rory's anxiety worse, she softens her expression and says reassuringly, "Tommy is one of the nicest, most genuine people I know. He's a lovely guy, really. Very handsome. He actually got scouted and has been in a few magazine shoots, but I don't have any of them to show you. You'll like him, I promise. And if you don't, you can... clobber me over the head. I won't mind."

Rory sighs. She'd wanted to start looking past her feelings for Warren, and this is how she starts. A blind date hadn't been on the top of her list, but Karen is right— it's better that she'd taken the initiative to set plans in stone. This way, Rory can't run away. She doesn't have Tommy's number to call and cancel on him.

When Tuesday arrives, Rory is dressed in a yellow blouse, an orange and white patterned skirt, and white clogs, clutching her purse so hard her knuckles turn white. Karen has a smile on her face the entire drive to the Sunset Strip. It makes her look like a maniac, especially when Rory's stomach is in knots about going on her first date ever with a guy she's never even seen. Karen had described him as handsome, but what if she doesn't find him physically attractive? What if he chews with his mouth open? Karen is picking her back up at eight, so how would she escape? Or would she have to endure a terrible date for the full two hours, waiting in agony as the seconds tick by?

Karen parks too soon. They walk down Sunset Boulevard, which is crowded even on a weeknight, with the blonde still beaming and Rory trying in vain to shake off her nerves. She inhales deep through her nose and exhales from her mouth. Hopefully her anxiety will pass and she'll be able to eat something, because right now, her stomach is so tight that even swallowing water might be impossible.

"Chill out, Rory," Karen says, slinging her arm around the girl's shoulders. "I promise you'll have a good time."

Rory mutters a quiet prayer to Santa María that she doesn't vomit on the tablecloth or something.

Despite all the time they've spent on the boulevard while playing at Filthy McNasty's, Rory has never seen Scandia. It's on the nicer part of the street, not flanked by sketchy dive bars like their former go-to venue. The building stands out because it's shaped like a house. It has a pointed roof that slopes downward on either side, with the upstairs dining area flooding light onto the street due to the floor-to-ceiling windows providing a glimpse into it. This is the kind of restaurant they wouldn't have been able to afford when they first moved to Los Angeles.

Rory is so distracted by the beautiful building that she jumps when Karen says, "Look, he's coming up the opposite way. With the brown jacket."

It's the mid-seventies, so almost every man on the face of the earth owns a brown jacket, and Rory is about to explain this to Karen when she looks forward and almost stops in the middle of the sidewalk. There are indeed multiple men wearing brown, but only one of them could possibly be Tommy.

And— oh. He's not just handsome. He's gorgeous.

He walks with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, made of black suede that flares around his boots, and seems oblivious to them at first. It allows Rory to get a glimpse of him when he doesn't realize she's watching. The yellow lights from the restaurant turn his bronze skin golden, and black hair tumbles from his head in smooth waves that perfectly frame his face. He regards the restaurant with the same admiration that Rory had, looking up at the vines that creep past their planters near the second-story windows.

Díos. Rory can understand why this man had been scouted by a modeling agency. Where does Karen even find a person like this? It's like he'd been cut out of a movie and pasted right onto the Sunset Strip.

Karen waves a hand over her head. "Lopez!"

He jerks his head forward at the sound of his name, finding Karen a few moments later. A smile lights up his face as he waves back. Of course he has perfect teeth.

They meet in front of Scandia, and now that they're standing right in front of each other, Rory can see that his height had not been an illusion brought by the distance between them. When Karen steps forward to give him a quick hug, even she is dwarfed by him. Even though he's easily over a foot taller than Rory, he doesn't appear intimidating because of it.

"I'm Tomás, but you can call me Tommy," he says, extending a polite hand for Rory to shake.

"Aurora," she says, accepting the gesture. "But please, call me Rory."

"Tommy and Rory. Cute." Karen has that semi-deranged smile on her face again as her eyes flicker between the two of them. "Well, I'll see you at eight. Have fun!"

And with that, she turns on her heel and heads back toward her car, leaving Rory with this tall, dark, and handsome stranger. Even if his height doesn't make him intimidating, his beauty does, and Rory finds herself at a loss for words once her friend is gone.

Tommy surprises her by scratching the back of his head almost sheepishly. "I have to admit... I am a bit starstruck."

Rory's eyes go wide. "By me?"

"Well, yeah. You did just win a Grammy. Congratulations, by the way."

"Oh, thank you." Her cheeks are burning. "You don't have to be starstruck around me, though. I'm just... I mean, aren't you a model?"

"Sometimes." He gestures for them to start heading into the restaurant, then holds the door open for her as they walk inside.

The interior of Scandia is all white tablecloths, nicely-dressed customers, and waiters wearing red suits, cloth napkins draped over their arms. Tommy informs the host about their reservation. They're led to the upstairs dining area, providing them with a beautiful view of the Sunset Strip while they sit at a table for two. He pulls her chair out for her before he sits in his own.

Rory looks down at the table placement and realizes with dismay that there are four forks, two knives, two spoons, and three glasses meticulously placed around her plate. She has no idea which ones are meant for what purpose. Even with their newfound money, she and the band have stuck to their usual diners and favorite restaurants instead of branching out to fine dining establishments.

Tommy notices her uneasy stare and smiles. "Don't worry, I have no idea what to do, either." He points at the fork closest to the left of his plate. "I think this is the salad fork?"

She sighs in relief that if they struggle, they'll struggle together. "You haven't been to a place like this, either?"

"Once. And I made a fool of myself. My mamá never let me set foot in one again."

Rory's brow perks up at his slight accent. "Your name... I couldn't help but notice. Are you Latin?"

He nods. "Mom's Mexican. Pa's Middle Eastern and some other stuff."

"I'm biracial, too— Mom's from Colombia and Dad's a Pittsburgh native."

It spurs a conversation about being biracial during a time when hardly anyone their age is. Interracial marriage wasn't allowed in all of the states until 1967, and before then, laws in each state were spotty. Having someone to talk to about this shared experience is like a breath of fresh air. They both know what it's like to feel the push and pull of two different cultures, and how they felt like they couldn't express said cultures in public because of discrimination.

"I don't even know Spanish," Tommy admits. "I mean, I know a little, and I can understand it better than I can speak it. When I do talk in Spanish, it takes me a while to... get my words together. My mamá didn't teach us."

Rory feels grateful for having learned Spanish at birth. Shortly after moving to Hazelwood, she'd been angry at her parents for not raising her with English as she struggled to understand her teachers and classmates, turning in clumsily written assignments because the grammar rules for English are so hard. But now she can't imagine a life where she didn't have the language to turn to. She'd lost many parts of her identity after the move, but at least she hadn't let that slip away.

Their conversations flow like water from topic to topic, and it's not nerves that prevent Rory from remembering to eat her meal half the time— it's the fact that she's either talking or hanging off of Tommy's every word.

"So how do you know Karen?" she asks him.

"We met at a music shop," he replies. "Westwood Music. They have some classes there, and I was taking one just for fun. She wanted to try to pick up a guitar lesson." Tommy stage whispers, "Don't tell her, but she was really bad."

Rory laughs. She can't imagine Karen playing the guitar.

"We got on the topic of how we were much better at playing the piano, and we just kept in touch after that. I saw some of her shows with The Winters, she came to a few of my performances..."

"You perform?"

"A bit." Humble, this one is. "Karen kills it on the keyboard, but I mostly just stick to the piano. I'm a big fan of Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, and Billy Joel. Their passion is amazing. I like playing their style more than the rock 'n' roll stuff you guys do with The Six."

"Oh, I'm not actually a part of The Six," Rory corrects him.

Tommy tilts his head, raising a thick brow. "Aren't you, though? I mean, informally. You wrote that one song on their album and have performed with them before." When Rory stares at him in surprise, he looks down at the table shyly. "Sorry. Did that make me sound like a creep?"

"No. I'm just surprised that anyone's paying attention."

"How could anyone not pay attention to you?"

Karen was right. Tommy Lopez is a genuinely wonderful person and precisely her type— he's surprisingly soft and shy, with a love for art and music, and a great listener. He's the perfect guy. Rory should be head over heels for him already, but though she likes him as a person, she isn't experiencing the same butterflies she feels around Warren.

Still, she'll be glad to see him again. And she tells him as much when she stretches onto her tip toes to kiss him on the cheek after their date, then hops into Karen's car.

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

Rory is certain that she is not the only one in the house with a budding romantic relationship. Though Graham has been head-over-heels for Karen since he first laid eyes on her, now Rory can sense an electric hum between them every time they interact. It makes her long for Camila's presence so they can share conspiratorial glances when Karen scoots a little closer to Graham on the sofa or something.

She's been trying to make it happen, determined that if they spend enough time together, the tension will have to break somehow. So when the three of them arrive for Camila and Billy's housewarming party together, Rory pretends to fiddle with something in the car, leaving the duo to walk down the sloping driveway to the side door.

With their backs to her, Rory can blatantly watch. Karen leans heavily into Graham as they walk. The entire trip, the greatest distance between them is an inch. Karen clutches the neck of a liquor bottle with one hand and grips Graham's forearm with the other.

Rory grins. She's been teasing Graham about this for the past few days, but he won't admit anything. Hopefully she and Cami can gang up on him and weasel some information out of the boy.

She grabs the plant she'd picked up from a local nursery and clutches it tightly on her way down the driveway, wary of every stray pebble in case she loses her balance and the pot goes flying. But she makes it down to the entrance without falling and walks in through the open door, still smiling.

"Oh my God, wait, are we the first to arrive?" Karen asks, looking around at the otherwise empty house as Camila rushes to greet them, her white sundress billowing around her like a cloud.

"Yes, you are," Cami replies. She grabs something from the counter that separates the kitchen from the rest of the living area. "And thank God, because I'm nowhere near ready. Karen, will you do me the biggest favor? Will you throw these out on the tables outside?"

"Oh, yeah." Karen tosses her red suede jacket onto the back of an armchair and takes the stack of tablecloths.

"And, oh, put rocks on them, or else they'll just..." Camila makes a fluttering motion with her hand, mimicking the fabric flying away, "they'll turn into kites."

"Okay. Rocks. Right."

The house is warm and inviting, with glossy wooden walls that give it a Western vibe and plush, comfortable seating. Camila had livened the space up with string lights near the breakfast bar. Though she'd said she was nowhere near ready, it doesn't show, and soon Rory realizes why when Camila snatches Graham by the arm before he can head out after her.

When he stumbles back into the house, Camila tilts her head to the side with an expectant smile. "Hi."

"Hello," Graham replies with a confused laugh.

Camila glances at Rory, who still has her arms wrapped around the plant, and they share a knowing expression that makes Rory's chest ache. God, she's missed her sister so much.

"So... are we gonna talk about it?"

Graham is still clueless. "Talk about what?"

"Ay, Cristo," Rory groans, setting the plant on a side table. "Now you know what I've been through these past few days."

"What's going on with you two?" Camila asks him.

"God, not you, too," Graham sighs. "I already get enough of it from her."

He motions to Rory, who grabs his wrist and uses it to wrap his arm around her shoulders, stretching up to coo into his face, "Graham's in loooooove—"

Graham shoves her away. "Shut up. Nothing's going on."

"Nothing?" Camila repeats disbelievingly. "Oh. Okay."

A beat of silence. Rory has to put a hand over her mouth to stifle her snort of laughter.

Graham finally relents, "I'm not gonna talk to you about—"

"Do you want my advice?" Cami asks.

"No."

"Tell her how you feel."

"No, I don't."

"You've had hearts in your eyes since we walked into The Winters' soundcheck," Rory tells him. Graham turns around and seizes her around the middle before she can run away, pulls her to his front, and slaps a hand over her mouth before she can say anything else to further incriminate him.

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"Uh, the band breaks up..."

"Okay."

"...and everyone hates me, and I look like an absolute idiot. So..."

Cami twists her mouth to the side for a moment. Then she says, "Seems kinda worth it to me."

"Mmmmffff hnnn hnn," Rory tries to say, but Graham's palm is pressed too firmly against her mouth for her to make much noise. He finally lets her go before she can drool on him or something. She steps back from him, wiping her mouth to scrub the Graham Germs away, and whispers, "I agree with her."

"What about you?" Camila turns her attention to Rory this time. "When can we expect your boy to drop by?"

Rory flushes. "He's not my boy— we've been on one date. He'll be here in about an hour or so."

"What's his name again?" Graham scratches at his curls, clearly grateful to be out of Camila's line of fire. "Tony?"

"Tommy," Rory corrects him with a swat. "And don't embarrass me."

"Why would I embarrass you? It's the others you should be worried about."

By the time that the late afternoon dips into twilight, the party is in full swing. Rory doesn't even recognize most of the people in attendance. She notices a few from Sound City or Ellenmare, or maybe some of their new neighbors, but the majority are strangers. She sticks close to those that she knows.

She's not the only one to bring a date. Eddie is with some random girl that Rory has never seen before in her life, but she seems nice, and the trio is chatting while standing in the beautifully decorated backyard. But the conversation is slightly stifled by the fact that Rory knows that Eddie wants to get into this girl's pants, and as such, keeps shooting her bedroom eyes. Rory starts to feel like she's intruding.

It's a relief when she sees Tommy duck out from the side door and flicker his gaze around in search of her. She raises a hand and waves. His shoulders relax when he notices her, and he picks his way down the sloping lawn until he reaches them.

Rory opens her arms for a hug. He's warm and smells good, not to mention that he looks good, but that's not a surprise. His hair is a bit windswept like he'd been in a hurry. His muscular yet lean frame is somewhat obscured by his oversized leather jacket, and it envelopes Rory with the scent of cedar.

"Hey," he greets her. "Sorry I'm late— my Pa... well, I'll tell ya later. This is Eddie, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Edward!" Rory calls, snapping Eddie out of his sexually charged stupor and causing him to acknowledge the new addition to their group. "This is Tommy. Tommy, Eddie."

"Hey, man," Eddie greets him, holding out a hand that Tommy shakes. He eyes him up and down. "You're taller than I expected. Sure you can reach our little one, here?"

Tommy chuckles, looking down at Rory. "I'll bet I can manage."

"Might need some stilts, Ro."

Rory pushes her friend closer to the girl. "Maybe you two should make out or something."

Graham was right— she should've been more worried about how the other guys would tease her.

A flash of white makes Rory freeze. "Oh, God." She turns to Tommy and grabs both of his hands, tugging him down so she can speak into his ear, "Camila's coming. She's going to interrogate you. But don't be afraid of her, okay? She's just... thorough."

"Oh — okay —"

"You must be Tommy!"

Camila's smile is just as wide and excited as Karen's had been before their first date. But still, there's a hint of scrutiny lurking behind her eyes, meaning she's peeling back all of Tommy's layers and meticulously inspecting them.

"Yeah, hi. It's nice to meet you. Everything looks wonderful so far."

"Oh, it's nothing," Camila waves the compliment off. "You mind if I talk to you for a second?"

"Not at all."

His hands slip from Rory's as Camila leads him out of earshot. In almost perfect synch, they look over their shoulders at her. Tommy's expression reads HELP! while Camila mouths, "He's cute!"

Rory's face burns. She finds the refreshment table to soothe her flaming-hot cheeks, chugging a cup of ice-cold water like it's the last one in a desert. Then she finishes it with a gasp and starts filling it up again.

"Jeez, you alright, there?"

Rory jumps so hard that the water almost splashes all over her. She sets down the pitcher with a shaking hand and turns to see Warren walking closer, dressed in an enormous vest made of white fur and no shirt underneath. Her stomach does approximately fifteen backflips at the sight of the tanned, uncovered skin.

She remembers how warm he'd been on the balcony back at their house. He'd been wearing a vest then, too, she's pretty sure, and there were lights strung around just like there are now. She remembers how her heart had pounded, how she'd considered kissing him—

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replies with a smile that she hopes is convincing. "Camila is just scaring the shit out of my date."

Rory locates them in the crowd and points. Warren follows her finger to see Camila standing with her arms crossed, somehow staring Tommy down despite being shorter. He actually appears... calm? At least, he looks much less terrified than he had when Camila had initially dragged him away. He laughs at something she says. It causes a tiny crack in Cami's stern demeanor. For a second, it looks like she's about to smile.

"Ah, he looks like he's doing alright," Warren says. "So..."

Rory looks at him, perplexed. "So...?"

"¿Él es tu novio?" he asks, drawing out his question teasingly, elbowing her in the ribs. "¿Te gusta besarlo?"

She swats his elbow away, her face growing hot again when he starts making kissing noises. "No. This is only our second date. And I have not kissed him."

"As long as it's not Eddie."

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Like I told you, never."

Camila finally releases Tommy from her clutches, satisfied with whatever information she'd pried out of him, and he automatically starts searching for Rory again. Once he doesn't find her in the spot he'd left her, he searches the crowd before heading down to the refreshment table. Rory quickly begins filling a cup for him, as well.

As he gets closer, he spreads his arms wide and smiles victoriously. "I survived!"

Rory cheers and hands him the cup. "Not many do. Congratulations. Tommy, this is Warren. Please don't listen to a single thing he says."

Warren, who had been in the process of extending a hand, shoots her an offended look. "What? I only ever say nice things about you."

"You say the worst things about me."

"Ouch. Such little faith."

"Come on." Rory grabs Tommy's free hand and drags him away. "Let's go before he starts telling stories."

She'd wanted to dip into the dating pool as a distraction from Warren, but every time she sees him, her body still does some form of gymnastics. His laugh is still her favorite sound. But here she is, walking with the perfect guy, and she'll be damned if she lets this experience go to waste.

When she thinks they're a safe distance from Warren and his uncanny ability to set her face on fire, Rory realizes she's still holding Tommy's hand and drops it, casting her eyes nervously on the ground.

"Sorry," she says. "I haven't done this before. Dating, that is. I don't know... I'm not sure the right way to pace things."

Tommy sits on one of the stone benches and pats the spot beside him, inviting her to plop down. When she does, he says, "Don't worry. There's no right way or wrong way, you know? It's all whatever you feel comfortable with. And I won't rush you."

She sends him a small grin in thanks, then considers things for a moment and takes his hand again, this time entwining their fingers. It's nice.

He really is a gorgeous man. Up close, and in such dim lighting, his eyes look like endless pools she could get lost in. His nose is so straight, and she's never known a cupid's bow to look so perfect.

"Is everything okay with your dad?" she asks him.

"Oh." Just that single sound is loaded. "Kind of. He has a drinking problem. I had to drive around and find which bar he was at, then bring him back home before he could get wasted and miss his night shift at the bodega."

Rory's heart squeezes in sympathy. She knows the struggle of trying to save an alcoholic from themselves. "I'm sorry. I'm glad you still showed up."

"'Course."

They're blinded by a flashing light a moment later. Rory blinks away the colors blocking her vision, shouting, "Camila!" before her sight even clears because she knows the culprit.

"You just looked so cute," she says, and then she's gone, taking her camera with her.

Tommy is also blinking furiously, rubbing at his eyes. "I think I'm blind."

"You get used to it."

A gust of wind causes her to shiver. She hadn't realized that so much of this party would be spent outside, or else she would've worn something other than a short-sleeved blouse.

"You cold?"

Before she can answer, Tommy is already removing his leather jacket, revealing the tight-fitting blue shirt underneath. It envelops her top half when he puts it around her shoulders— it was already big on him, and if she drew her knees to her chest, she could probably cocoon her entire body inside.

"Thanks," Rory says, snuggling into the surprisingly comfortable interior.

"No problem. I'm always running warm."

She raises a hand and places the back of it to his forehead. "You feel fine to me."

"Maybe you just make me blush, then."

Rory grins, laughing at how smooth that was. She drops her hand. He's still looking at her.

"I'm serious."

She turns, realizing that he is, in fact, not laughing along, but rather, he has a small smile on his face like he finds hers contagious and can't keep a straight face. It makes her hands fidget in her lap.

He'd said there's no right time or wrong time, it's whatever you feel comfortable with. So Rory makes sure she feels comfortable when she brings her hand up to his jaw and brushes her thumb along his cheekbone. Tommy's breath hitches when she leans forward, his Adam's apple bobbing with a swallow. He lets her lead the whole time. Even after her lips meet his.

It's... nice. His lips are soft, and when she pulls away, he looks almost dazed. She leans in again. Tommy's hand curls around her waist as she tilts her head to shift closer to him. He doesn't try to push past the seam of her mouth with his tongue, doesn't try to force his hands on her chest or something. Instead, he lets her have total control the entire time, appearing to savor each slow press of her lips to his.

Rory searches inside herself for some sort of electricity. There should be something, right? Something that makes her want to take things a step further and deepen the kiss, maybe explore the skin of his neck? She could keep kissing him — it's not a bad experience — but mainly it just feels... comfortable. Like she could keep doing it because it's fine. But there's no desire to entwine her fingers through his hair or open her mouth to his, and it worries her.

In a way, it feels kind of like when she'd kissed Eddie.

_________

a/n:

introducing... taylor zakhar perez as tomás "tommy" lopez!!

this man is so attractive i don't even know what to do with myself. like... are you kidding me? is it even legal to look that good? bye. unfair.

i did not edit this chapter as much as i usually do because my power has been fickle and the LAST thing i want is it going out when i'm in the middle of editing. so kindly let me know of any mistakes that i missed :)

also i missed camila in the last chapter, so i'm so glad she's back in this one! she is trying her damn HARDEST to help rory find love. and we love her for that.

originally, i was going to put the whole party in this chapter, but then the date scene alone wound up being 2.3k words because i got carried away... and... here we are. truckin' along.

— kristyn

TRANSLATIONS:

Ay, Cristo: Oh, Christ.

¿Él es tu novio? ¿Te gusta besarlo?: Is he your boyfriend? Do you like kissing him?

( word count: 5.1k )