A/N: I know. I know. I know. I'm sorry! I really am! I had my hsc (a levels or finals or whatever) then I had my uni applications and my summer holiday…. But I'm back on the ball now and I'm SO SORRY to keep y'all waiting. I hope you like this chapter. It's sort of an in between chapter so there isn't much humour or talking. But, yeah…please review? I'll write more soon. Love , emjai.
Chapter Six:
23 cds.
Rory scanned the floor of the car once more.
23 cds: 15 of which are in their cases. For a car without a cd player that is quite an achievement.
Of the 15 cased cds there are 3 different genres.
Pop, Punk and Jazz.
It's funny how it's like a slice of life.
You've got the 'pop' – the lemmings out there who'll pay you a $1 000 for a kiss and 50c for your soul, who'll try anything to please, and who'll lead you into a life you feel is real.
Then there's 'punk' – for those who feel the need to rebel, who feel that if you play music at a higher volume more people will take notice of you, who feel that if they scream for everyone to go away…more people might notice them.
Then, finally, 'jazz' – the everlasting sound that managed to creep into every decade, easygoing, melancholy, relaxing, and soothing…for that kind of person who just floats through life…
Rory stared out of the window at the dense purple clouds that hang in the sky.
I really haven't floated anywhere in a while.
You have to have no weight to float.
Flicking her gaze to the man sitting next to her, she frowned.
Does feeling no weight count?
Take a step back.
The moments after a shock revelation can vary. You can be trapped in a force field of screams, wails, and explosive emotional energy – a sight to behold and an excruciating experience. Only one other reaction can cause as much tension – silence. When Rory and Dave saw Lane's act of adultery moments before, there was silence. Dave breathed life back into the engine and they quietly reversed down the street before turning and driving away. The lovers did not notice. Since that minute there has been nothing but silence. Numb silence. The pain of what had taken place still shooting through the small space of the car. Like electric waves they were shocked and stung by them – each thought of the moment causing a new scar. And there was no aid. Silence can be soothing, relaxing even. It can lull the senses into a catatonic trance that leaves them at peace with one and all. But this was no silence Rory had experience before. The sounds of the world passed by them, accentuating the grating tension that creeped within the car. Dave's cold eyes never strayed from the road, as Rory's mind ran a mile a minute to distract herself from acknowledging the blatant fact that was…Dave's love was no longer. A love had been lost. If loss entailed what had occurred. Stripped, stolen…Seduced, succumbed. Either way, life was different because of that fact. One detail had changed his being. But his further reactions to this detail were yet to be seen.
The silence dragged on as they sped down the streets. Rory began to fidget with her bag – the uncomfortable atmosphere burdening her as she took in Dave. He was ashen faced, his hands gripping the steering wheel with such force that Rory began to worry he would indent the plastic. His knuckles glowed white and his jaw was set in a grimace that caused his handsome dimples to falter.
"Dave?" she tentatively questioned, attempting to bring him out of his stupor.
A spark glinted behind his eyes as he glanced at her,
"Rory, I really do not want to talk about this one, ok?" he gritted out from between his teeth.
Put out, Rory turned to the window once more, before changing her mind and facing him again,
"But, I've had this happen to me, remember? I could help? I've been there! I've done that! I walked in on Tristan with some little ditz called Bambi, Shambi, Stacey, Bacey, or whatever! I can help you through this, Dave, I –" she trailed off at his face.
His stony countenance continued until he pulled up outside her apartment building.
He turned in his seat so he was facing her.
She waited.
Nothing came. He just stared at her.
"If you don't –" she trailed off again, feeling awkward under his gaze. She wished for a parallel universe…
He shut his eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath,
"Rory, can we go upstairs and talk?"
Surprised, she smiled and nodded, "of course. Let me just get my key."
They headed out of the car and up the stairs.
Letting them both into the apartment, Rory took off her black coat and threw it on one of the stylish ottomans scattered across the living room.
"Take off your coat, dump it where you will – no need to stand on stage!" She grinned at him.
"Stand on stage?" he said, raising an eyebrow.
Flicking on the percolator she smirked at him, "I was going to say 'stand on ceremony' but I figure you've probably never been anywhere where the word 'ceremony' was applicable."
He dropped his jaw in mock horror and put his hand to his chest, "I'll have you know, Mz DuGrey, that just because I am a musician does not mean that I have never been to a ceremony of sorts. In fact, I've been to two!" He cooed as he crashed down into one of the couches.
She laughed and sank down into the plush cushions next to him, "Oh really? I am so sorry then, Monsieur! Do tell me what these elite ceremonies were?"
"Why they were only to honour me with the greatest awards known to man," he sat up and coughed in preparation, ""Most likely to swallow a crayon" and "Most likely to eat the worlds largest cheesecake!"
Rory applauded, "I'm impressed."
"As well you should be, I worked hard for those!"
She admonished him with a pointed finger, "Dave, did you swallow that crayon?"
His eyes shifted guiltily from left to right, "No, Miss Hoover!"
The broke out into giggles only to be interrupted by Dave's cell phone.
He looked at the caller ID and frowned.
Taking a stirring breath, he picked up, "Hey Lane!"
His voice was without a trace of infliction, perfectly calm and happy – just like normal. Rory looked on with baited breath.
"Yeah, I'm great – how was your day, babe…Oh well, busy is good, right…Yeah… Will you be home later? Sure, I can make that for you…. With the Soy or Rice milk…Ok…. Yeah…Ok, babe. See you later. Love you… Uh-huh. Bye."
Throwing the phone onto the floor he held his head in his hands and sighed, "She's been 'manic at work today' with so many 'patients' who are 'just desperate for her attention!'" He leaned back into the couch again, "She won't be home until late tonight but she wants me to make her favorite dinner for her so she can eat it when she gets in."
Rory frowned, "maybe she actually had to go –" she was cut off by Dave.
"I'm not stupid, god damn it. I'm just a schmuck, Rory. I'm a fool," His voice grew louder, "My life is foolish. I am just here to be used and abused by Lane – to be her little servant while she goes off and fornicates behind my back! That's not a relationship! That's not even a friendship! There is no love! There's nothing! She's right – I don't want her anymore and I can't stand it! "
Silenced by his anger, Rory stared at him.
Not knowing what else to do, she took his hand and stroked it with her thumb.
He breathed deeply, looked at her fingers entwined with his, and stared at her.
"Rory," he whispered, shaking his head sadly, "I'm so sorry."
Puzzled, she began to speak but stopped when Dave brought his finger to her lips to stop her words. Holding her eyes in a meaningful stare he traced his finger across her lips, his callused fingertips scraping enticingly across her soft skin. Moving his finger across further, he cupped her cheek as he leaned in further and gently pressed her lips to his.
Rory let out a squeak of protest, but Dave would not be refused, he slid his palm up until his fingers were lost in her silky chestnut locks, gently massaging her scalp. His other hand began sliding up and down her bare forearm, causing her skin to quiver.
Before long, Rory's protestations turned to moans and she pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. She felt his skilful tongue dart on her bottom lip, begging entrance to her mouth. Sighing, she granted it, letting him explore her mouth with his tongue whilst she enthusiastically reciprocated. Linking her wrists behind his neck she drew him closer as she lay back on the couch, pulling him on top of her. His hands moved downwards and up underneath her shirt, slowly skimming her breasts, his fingertips lightly gracing her skin and setting a fire within her soul. Breaking apart for air, Rory closed her eyes and gasped as Dave began slowly suckling at the skin on her neck. Without thinking, she found herself dragging him back to her lips where she kissed him passionately, pressing closer into him. Fumbling, she untucked his black shirt and her hands glided over his smooth, taut muscles. Breaking apart again, Dave stripped himself of his shirt and began working on Rory's buttons. Alarm bells resounded once more in Rory's head. It had been too long. It had been too long since she knew this sort of touch. Too long since she had felt this sort of closeness. And she knew it was wrong…
"Dave, wait!" She gasped, propping herself up on one elbow and pushing Dave away with one hand, "I can't!" She gestured to them both, "We can't! You're married! Lane's my best friend! Lane –"
He crushed his lips to hers, forcing her lips apart and sweeping his tongue across her teeth. Darting across to her ear, he began kissing, lapping, nipping and sucking at her lobe, panting out the words,
"Rory… I want…you."
With all the energy she could muster, Rory pushed him off her and stood up. She looked at him and shook her head sadly, much like he had done earlier, before grasping his hand in hers and leading him slowly into her bedroom.
Take a step back.
We find ourselves in a predicament. Sex for the first time in most situations can be awkward, intimidating, disastrous, and the repercussions can be destructive. However, in this case, this is not true. There was no awkwardness between these two. Far from it. There was a familiarity between them that neither recognised. The fact that Dave knew Rory's body as if it were his own, knew how to give her what she wanted, neither of them questioned. The fact that they fit together perfectly went unnoticed as each marvelled in the sensations excited by the other. The noises that filled the room weren't that of their usual conversation, gone was the witty banter and laughing comments, gone was speech in general. All that remained was the sounds of ecstasy. Intimidation was no matter – they were both on the same wavelength. They had both been battered and bruised by love, and had both been suffering from something missing in their lives. Perhaps that something missing had been in front of them all along? Possible. Perhaps that something this historic was all it took to take their minds off their former problems? Probable. Was it disastrous? As they came together and collapsed into each other's arms, the only feeling that was monitored was that of contentment. Only the repercussions had yet to be accounted for. A broken hearted woman, a broken hearted man… Could the melding of both create a whole heart? Or just break them again twice over? Will the loves they found previously prevail? Or could it be possible that the connection they found tonight would be one that would hold them together for longer? The night will end. The morning will come. The questions will be asked. The questions must be answered.