Perfect

He smiled. “You have the sweetest heart, Lena, but the truth is the truth. I’m just not one of those guys.”

“One of those guys?”

He leaned back again. “One who hopes to get into the college of his dreams or even has a shot at a shitty townie one.”

“You can be any guy you want to be, Rory.”

There she went again, being optimistic even though everyone in town knew about his old man and the shit life he led. “You’re right, but the truth is still the truth, and reality doesn’t change. I’m the type of guy who loves his girl more than anything else, and that’s all I need in life.” He winked at her and loved that even three years later, she still blushed. “I’m the kind of guy who does hard, manual labor, providing for his girl because he wants her to have everything.”

“Rory,” she said softly. She stood, walked over to him, and in front of everyone in the café, she sat right on his lap. But Rory didn’t care if anyone watched, didn’t give a fuck what they saw. He liked that she wanted to give him a little PDA, craved it even. He held her, pushed her hair off her shoulder, and pressed his mouth to her ear.

“I swear, Lena, I fucking swear everything will work out.” He held her tighter and prayed that it would. He didn’t want to fuck this up because she was the one girl he didn’t want to lose.

He meant it when he said he was the type of guy who worshipped his girl, that she was all he needed in his life, the only thing he needed to be happy. He didn’t lie when he’d said providing for her was what he wanted, needed to do.

8

She’d been dreading this day since the first time Rory spoke about it a little over a month ago. Lena sat on the back of his pickup truck, staring at the lake across from her, the beer in her hand ice-cold. Droplets of condensation slid down the bottle and landed on her bare thighs, and the sound of Rory rustling in the cab of the truck seemed overly loud. She was just in a whole other world right now, everything seeming too sensitive, too painful.

Tomorrow morning, Rory would leave her, leave this town and his fucked-up father behind, and she hoped create something wonderful for himself. He deserved this more than anyone else, but a part of her, this selfish part she hated but was reality, wished she could just tell him to stay with her.

Of course she wouldn’t say that to him, wouldn’t tell him to forget about leaving the bad life he’d been dealt to start fresh somewhere else because she was selfish. He’d be back, but a year was such a long time. Of course thoughts of if he’d meet someone else, fall in love with her, and forget about this town and Lena filled her head. It was inevitable, she assumed.

She was starting school in just a couple of months, finally deciding on just going to a local college so she could save on dorm tuition and commute from her parents’ house. What was the point of leaving and being on her own when she’d wanted to experience that with Rory?

The music started playing seconds later, and then the sound of the truck door and of Rory’s boots crunching on the foliage, coming closer to her, filled her head. She looked over her shoulder and saw him holding a blanket and a bottle of whiskey.

Lifting her brow and smirking, she saw the wink he gave her right before he hopped on the tailgate of the truck beside her. They didn’t speak as he cracked open the bottle, the sound of the seal breaking having her watch him take off the lid, lift the bottle, and toss the liquor back, drinking a hefty shot. He breathed out when he was finished, looked over at her, and held the bottle out, offering it to her.

Lena wasn’t into liquor like that unless they went to the club, which was only once in a while. She preferred beer, but right now, she wanted to forget about the fact the guy she loved more than anything else was leaving. Taking the bottle, not thinking about anything but enjoying this last night she’d have with him in a long time, Lena tipped the bottle back and drank a rather large swallow of the whiskey.

Setting the bottle back on the tailgate, she gasped as the liquor burned down her throat, having her chest tighten and her mouth go numb, but finally having this pleasurable warmth filling her. Rory chuckled beside her, picked up the bottle, and took a long drink from it again.

They sat there several more moments, both staring at the lake, neither speaking, and the tension moving between them like thick syrup.