“Mary, is there any hot chocolate?” the little addict asked, sounding anxious for a fix.
“Sorry, hun, if it’s not there, then we don’t have it.”
Sighing, Rory nodded and carefully walked the ten steps over to the waiting area only to stop abruptly and glare at him.
“Is something wrong, Rory?” Connor asked, acting as though he didn’t know what had her panties in a twist.
“You’re sitting in the middle,” she bit out.
He made a show of looking down. “Hmm, look at that so I am,” he said in an amused tone.
“Move,” she demanded, gesturing impatiently for him to move his ass.
Sighing, he took a sip of his drink. “I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t?” she demanded.
“Both.”
Rory glared at him, then at each empty chair, before looking around desperately for another chair. When she couldn’t find any means to distance herself from him, which he knew that she was dying to do, she sat down as far as she could in the chair to his right.
Sighing loud and long to annoy the shit out of her, Connor stretched his right arm out and then dropped it along the back of her chair.
“Do you mind?” Rory asked, looking pointedly at his arm.
Connor shook his head. “No, not really.”
She opened her mouth, probably to tell him off for the millionth time, only to shut it and shook her head, muttering, “I don’t have time for games today.”
That was too bad because he rather enjoyed their daily battles. He made a show of sipping his drink. “Mmmm, that’s good cocoa.”
Rory glared at him and then at his cup.
“You took the last hot cocoa?”
“Uh-huh,” Connor answered, taking another sip.
Rory nodded slowly. “I see.”
“I’m sure that you do.”
Just as he went to take another sip of that rather creamy cup of hot cocoa that was tasting better and better with each passing second, she jabbed him in the side with a finger, the same time she made a grab for his cup. He tried to pull the cup away, but she just dug that damn finger harder into his side.
Shit! That really hurt!
Deciding that it was better to give up the cocoa than to let her make his eyes tear up, Connor released the cup. Rory twisted her finger harder into his side, digging deep for good measure before backing off. Glaring at her, he rubbed his side while she happily sipped his cocoa.
Damn, there were a lot of things in his life that he regretted and right now, showing her that little trick in sixth grade when she wouldn’t let him cut her in the lunch line was one of them. He winced as he rubbed the sore spot. Well, it looked like she’d perfected that move over the years.
“I spit in that, you know,” he lied.
She simply shrugged when most women would have probably screeched, gagged, and shoved it back at him. Not Rory James. She made a show of taking a huge sip of cocoa.
“I think I’ve been immune to your germs since the ninth grade,” she pointed out, making him smile.
Ah, good times. For six months, he’d found ways to spit in her food and drinks without her and her little band of geeks, nerds, and dorks finding out about it. His friends, of course, did their part by distracting her so that he could break into her locker and took pictures of the act.
On her birthday, he’d placed all those lovely pictures in a small box, gift-wrapped it, and placed it inside her locker. Then, he leaned back against the locker across from hers and waited with all his friends and half the school for her to open it. Everyone watched as she opened her locker, waiting for her reaction. First, she looked surprised to find the present in her locker. That, of course, had turned to horror as she flipped through the pictures. She hadn’t been able to hide that gagging sound that followed.
