Disclaimer:
I don't own "Fortysomething" or any of the mentioned characters.

Chapter 2
A Plain Excursion

"I am so glad it is finally back to my natural colour."
Rory ruffles through his hair.
"Yeah, me too," I admit. "It was a stupid idea to dye it."
"May I remind you, that it was not *my* idea in the first place?" Rory says, looking at me accusingly.
"I know, I know …"
I make a defensive gesture.
"I'm sorry I even mentioned it."
"I am glad about your tattoo, though," Rory adds. "The heart looks better without my brother's name written across it."
"It plainly said 'Daniel'," I argue. "No one would have known that this Daniel was your brother. It could have been any Daniel …"
"For example?"
"Daniel Craig, Daniel Radcliffe …"
"Oh, don't you start!" Rory cuts in. "Daniel Radcliffe?"
"Sure, why not?"
Rory scoffs.
"Two words for you: jail bait."
He looks at me, seriously.
"Your precious Harry Potter is underage."
"He looks older …"
Rory inhales deeply, scrunching up his face.
"Do we have to discuss this now, Laura?" he demands. "Actually, I was meaning to run a completely different thought by you, but now I hardly feel like it anymore …"
"Oh, Rory …" I drawl his name, flapping my eyelashes at him, which usually works. "Not that face …"
Rolling his eyes Rory falters.
"Alright, I'll tell you," he gives in. "I was thinking about taking our relationship a bit further."
"Really?" I gasp. "Are you thinking of a threesome?"
Rory frowns.
"No, not exactly," he says, repulsed. "I was more thinking of a mini-break."
"A mini-break?" I repeat, flatly.
"Yes, for the bank holiday weekend."
"Can you get off from Side Street for a whole weekend on such a short notice?"
"Believe it or not, I can," Rory answers. "I spoke with Paz, Chaz, Maz and Raz, they all agreed, Alec was not too happy and Bolt nearly threw up, when I told him, but in the end he came around, so … I'm free, we can go."
"Go where?"
"Wherever you like."
"Paris?" I suggest.
Rory frowns.
"Paris … as in France?"
I nod.
"That could be a tad expensive, if we went by plane," Rory adds for consideration. "Besides, I am not too fond of flying."
"Then we go by car," I answer. "I'm sure your Mum would give us hers …"
"You want to go to France in an old VW Beetle?"
"Or we take your Dad's car."
"Yeah, and then Daniel wants to join us with Lucy and the next thing we know, Edwin and Woj want to come too," Rory supposes. "That's not what I call a romantic weekend."
"So what do you have in mind?"
"Wiltshire."
"Wiltshire?"
"The county of the White Horse," Rory says, his eyes sparkling. "It is supposed to be great. I hear Stonehenge rocks. What do you think?"
"I'm thrilled," I reply, totally unexcited.
"And the big advantage would be that we can take Estelle's car."
"So it's okay to drive to Wiltshire in your Mum's car, but we can't use it to get to Paris?" I sum up the facts. "Rory, I don't see why there is so much difference, honestly."
"Well, for once, Wiltshire is in England and Paris is in France."
"Rory, I may be a little dim, but I know a wee bit about geometry."
Rory chuckles, hiding his smile behind his hand, but somehow it even upsets me more.
"What?" I demand. "What's so funny? What did I say?"
"You said 'geometry'."
"Yeah, so?"
"So you meant 'geography'."
"Isn't that the same?"
"Not at all," Rory replies. "Shall I explain the difference?"
"Thank you, but no thank you!" I refuse.
"Are you quite sure?"
"Look, I am not in school anymore," I clarify. "So don't try to teach me a lesson."
"Don't you mean 'learn' me a lesson?" Rory teases and I frown confused.
"What is this, Rory, a grammar class for blondes?"
"It would be semantics class, if anything."
"Are you trying to be clever?" I hiss.
"I don't need to," Rory retorts, dryly. "I am clever."
"Oh, more clever than me?"
"Cleverer.
"Oh, I've had it with you, Rory!"
Angrily, I slam my fist on the table.
"Why do you go out with me, if you think I am stupid?"
"I don't think you are stupid, Laura."
"Then don't treat me like a moron."
With that I stand, and hurry out of the room, but I don't get too far. I have not even reached the front door, when Rory has already caught up.
"Laura, I'm sorry," he says, grabbing my arm, but I quickly wriggle out of his grasp.
"Let me go!"
Harshly, I struggle myself free and run out of the house, not looking back.
This time, Rory doesn't follow.

By the evening I feel pretty stupid about my behaviour and especially about myself. At first I thought I was absolutely right, but when I looked up 'geometry' and 'geography' in the internet as well as 'grammar' and 'semantics' I soon realized, how silly I have been, mixing these terms up. Rory definitely is cleverer than me and yet, I am too proud to call him to apologize. Maybe tomorrow I will bring up the courage to say I'm sorry, but not tonight.
Unfortunately, my bad conscience is nearly eating me up and when I am finally lying in bed I am far away from sleep. Tossing and turning I consider my options. It is not even midnight – it is certainly not too late to make a phone call to Rory.
Quickly, I get up and pull out my phone, when a knock at my door makes me flinch.
"Yes?" I ask, startled.
The door opens a crack and my father peeks in.
"Are you decent?" he asks.
"Of course I am decent, come in."
"I meant, are you decent to receive a visitor?" Dad elaborated.
"A visitor?" I repeat, suspiciously.
Dad smiles.
"It's your boyfriend."
"Rory?"
"Yes, of course Rory, how many boyfriends do you have?"
"I'm not sure," I admit. "Hopefully one, still."
"And he is here," Dad explains. "Do you want to see him?"
"I don't know," I reply. "Does he look angry?"
"No, he looks quite relaxed," Dad answers. "And he has a dufflebag with him. I didn't know he wanted to sleep over."
"I don't believe he wants to sleep over," I say, slowly. "Did he say anything?"
"Only that he wished to see you."
I take a deep breath, preparing for the worst.
"Call him in, please."
Apparently, Dad doesn't have to. As soon as I have said it the door opens wider and Rory appears next to my Dad, the expression on his face unreadable.
"I guess I leave you two love birds alone," Dad smirks and with that he leaves.
For a moment Rory and I stand quietly in the room, none of us speaking, until I finally bring up the courage to talk first.
"Rory …"
"Laura."
Damn. He is not making it easy this time.
"What brings you here?" I ask.
"I thought I should drop by before I left."
I swallow hard.
"You …" I begin, insecurely. "You want to leave?"
"Yep."
He pops the 'p' in a very casual way and at any other occasion I would have laughed. Funnily, though, today I don't find it amusing.
"Where to, may I ask?"
"On a holiday."
"I see …"
I bite my lips.
"For the weekend?" I presume. "Or longer?"
"No, just a mini-break," Rory confirms and smirks. "You want to come?"
I feel as if a heavy weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
"Hell, yeah!" I exclaim, practically jumping at Rory as I wrap my arms around his neck. "Where are we going?"
"Paris, of course," Rory answers. "I filled up Estelle's car, so it should bring us to Calais at least, but then we must find a petrol station or we will have to hitch-hike through France."
"Your Mum gave you her car?"
"She did."
"Does she know that we are going on a mini-break?"
"Yes.
"Does she know, *where* we are going to?"
"That I thought wise not to tell her," Rory replies. "She will murder me, when she sees the mileage on her car, if it ever makes it back, but I hope I can run fast enough."
"You can hide here at my place," I offer.
"She will find me, but it is certainly worth a try."
"Alright, she will find you, but she won't bite your head off," I add for consideration. "You are her son."
"Well, she has got spares …"
"But you are her favourite."
"It doesn't matter," Rory says, plainly. "When it comes to her car, Estelle won't show mercy to anyone."
I bite my lip, thoughtfully.
"We could make a change of plans, of course, and only go to Wiltshire," I then suggest. "It's supposes to be great. And I hear Stonehenge rocks."
"Would that be alright with you?"
"Everything is alright with me as long as I am with you."
"Then get your toothbrush," Rory commands. "I will wait for you in the car."
Reluctantly, I let go of him and smile.
"I really love you, Rory Slippery," I say, softly.
"And I really love you, Laura Proek," Rory answers.