Pillowtalk | D. O'B.

2. The Games We Play

"I can't."

"Just five minutes—"

"Rach, really, I can't. I got...shit...to do."

Unconvinced, Rachel's head tilts and she leans even further across the large desk. "Yeah? What shit?"

"I'm...I gotta..." Come on, think, Rory. "I'm babysitting my little brother."

"I thought he was staying with your grandma?" Rachel reminds her and she freezes.

"Well, yeah, but...I'm...I gotta bring him his...stuffie," Rory stammers, quickly turning away before Rachel can see her wince. "Anyway, can't go. Oh no, too bad. Maybe another time."

But Rachel continues to study her, unconvinced. "You're meeting up with Ricky, aren't you?"

Rory's face instantly flushes as she whirls back around. "What? No—"

"You are," Rachel gasps, eyes going wide. "He's your sneaky link, isn't he?"

Rory blinks. "I—no, he's not my—what are you even talking about?"

"You've been MIA for the past, like, month," she explains. "And I saw the way you and Ricky were looking at each other a couple of weeks ago—"

"What? We weren't...looking at each other—"

"Oh please. Not to mention the way you're always giggling at your phone—"

"Rach, I swear, I'm not—" Rory begins just as Rachel suddenly whips around to gather the attention of the table next to them.

Rory sighs to herself as she listens to Rachel ask the girl's beside them if Ricky is seeing anyone. She wants to be embarrassed, but she supposes it's not exactly Rachel's fault. After all, she'd certainly never guess who Rory is really seeing. And maybe it's better to let her believe it's Ricky. No muss, no fuss.

So, as she waits for class to begin, she slumps into her seat and begins pushing her notebook around the table in circles before it suddenly slips off the wooden surface and onto the floor with a smack.

Of course. Huffing, she leans down to retrieve it right as another hand appears as well, a different set of fingers brushing her own as the binder is lifted into the air.

A bit surprised, her lashes flutter as she quickly looks up and finds Dylan. Those familiar, warm eyes meeting hers, forcing a hitch in her throat.

She's stunned into silence as he gently places the item in her hands, offering a subtle wink before slipping past her to head for his seat on the other side of the room.

And she can't help but smile to herself as she turns to watch him go. He lets the strap of his backpack fall from his shoulder as the bag drops to the ground before he reaches into the pocket to retrieve his textbook. He smacks it down onto the table, leans over to his deskmate to say something, and begins absentmindedly clicking his pen.

And she takes in every little detail. The way his hair is styled, all spiky near the front. His usual style. The way he's got the sleeves of his flannel shirt filled up to his elbows, the buttons undone to reveal the white tee underneath. The dirt on his signature Converse, and the way the left shoelace is undone like it somehow always is.

He doesn't seem to notice her staring. After all, why would he? She'd made him promise not to make any sort of contact outside of his bedroom, especially in class.

And he's been good about sticking to that rule. But sometimes, on days like this...she wishes he'd be bad.

"Okay, so, tell them again how you guys fucked in the back of his car," Rachel is suddenly demanding, and Rory looks over to see about half the class now eagerly awaiting the details.