Promises

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Rory patiently waits for Victoria.
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Just to make this clear there is absolutely no sex among minors in this story!!!!!

*

Rich, who's the chick?" I gave my older brother the same look I had given him before we even left the house.

Before I could tell him, once again, that he could have left me at home, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and looked to the guy who'd asked the question. "This is my sister Victoria. She's going to be hanging out with us, and everyone will be nice to her or else, got it?"

"I will personally make sure of that." Rory, Rich's best friend, stood on my other side. Whereas Rich was somewhat lanky and nonthreatening, Rory was rather nicely built, though still somewhat in his awkward stage at fifteen.

The rest of the guys, five in total, were in front of us, all eyes on me. "What are we going to do with a nine year old?"

"We're going to do the same thing with my twelve year old sister that we were going to do before you all knew she was coming. We're going down to the beach." His grip about my shoulder tightened a bit and he gave me a reassuring smile. "Come on." We all walked off together, working our way down the mile of neighborhood to the "beach" at the edge of our community.

It was their soccer day. They went every Wednesday during the summer months for a bit of a two-on-two sand soccer tournament. This particular day, Rich decided not to leave me home by myself and instead take me along to hang out with him and his friends. Rich and I had the same father but different mothers. Rich was blond with blue eyes I don't know if you can be anymore all American white guy than him. I was not since my mother was a black. I continually insisted they wouldn't want me hanging around, but Rory eventually was the one who convinced me that everything would be alright. "How are we splitting up the teams? There's an odd number of us."

When we got to the beach, I sat down a bit away from them at the edge of the sand. "Odd number?" Rich questioned, looking at yet another guy in the group. "I see eight."

"Come on, man. I get you're playing nice big brother, but you can't expect one of us to play on your sister's team." Instantly, I felt silly. I shouldn't have come. It was so obvious that they did not want me there, and even more obvious that I didn't belong. They saw me as an intruder, and that's what I was.

"Like I'd let any of you get this beast of a player to yourself." Rory walked over and plopped himself next to me. "She's on my team."

"You don't have to, Rory." I whispered to him, appreciating him trying to come to my rescue, but still feeling embarrassed and out of place. "I don't mind sitting here."

He slung an arm around my shoulder, giving me a playful smile. "You're on my team, punk, whether you like it or not." He stood up and offered me his hand, pulling me toward him. "Now get up, and let's play!" Rory didn't baby me. He didn't jump in front of me to get the ball or make me feel bad if I messed up. In fact, he never stopped smiling. I got a high five every time we scored a point (even if I didn't contribute) and a huge, crushing bear hug after the games we won. Rich made sure I was welcome among his friends, but Rory made sure I felt welcomed.

When all of the rounds were done everyone was sweaty and good natured. Rory and I finished in third place, a fact that both upset and comforted some of the other guys: this team with the little girl had beaten them, but this little girl wasn't entirely useless. To celebrate the end of the 'tournament' for this week, the boys stripped down to their boxers and jumped into the lake.

"Sorry, Vikki." My brother gave me a sympathetic look as he tossed his clothes away from the water. "I forgot to tell you to bring something to swim in, and I definitely don't want you out in your underwear. If you want to jump in in your clothes, that's fine, but you'll be cold walking home. You want me to hang out with you in the shallow parts?"

The tone was genuine, but his expression wasn't as much so. He was willing to stay with me, and he would do it without complaint, but hoping I wouldn't ask him to. I wasn't the best swimmer, and hanging out with me would mean only being in water that went up to my chest. "Don't worry, Rich. I don't want to swim anyway. Go. " He smiled, somewhat relieved, and gave me a quick hug before running out to join his friends.

I stood watching for a moment, again feeling left out but knowing it was better this way. The boys were all climbing onto a wooden dock in the middle of the lake and jumping off (or pushing each other off) into the water. They dunked and splashed each other while their laughs echoed off the water and nearby trees.

I was just about to sit when hands clasped down on my shoulders. They were warm and slightly rough, familiar. "Now, Vik, you can do this the easy way or the hard way. Easy way you walk in, hard way I throw you."

Looking back at Rory, there was no mistaking the bit of mischief behind his grin. His nose was just slightly too big for the face that almost had a chiseled jaw, but was still overtaken with remnants of baby fat. Even with the mischief, he looked utterly harmless. "I can't go in unless someone stays by me, and I can't swim that well so I'd need to stay more in the shallow end. It's probably better if I just don't go in today."

The grin grew a bit wider. "Wrong answer, punk." In one motion, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. There was no strain or hesitation from him, and no pain for me. He wrapped his arms around my legs, keeping me in place while all the blood began to run to my head. He was strong and starting to grow solid in all the right areas of his body. He held me as if I were nothing.

"Ah! Rory! Put me down. Down! " I was laughing while I began to wiggle against his arms, trying to throw them off.

"Down you say?" Until that moment, I hadn't paid much attention to the fact that he was walking. Looking straight ahead (which was toward the ground in my position), I watched his feet cross the line of the water. "I suppose I could put you down."

The meaning was obvious. "No! Rory, no." The arguing and pleading approach was not working in the slightest, so I tried another. "If you throw me in you'll have to stay by me."

He stopped moving and his shoulders stiffened just a bit, as if he were thinking intently. Just as I was about to silently praise myself for my successful tactic. "Totally worth it." I was tossed down into the cool, clear water. Initially surprised, I resurfaced, being in a place where the water was only about four feet deep, and gave Rory a shocked look. He, however, was laughing heartily.

"Now it's war." I jumped toward him, knowing full well I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything if he didn't want me to, and pulled him down into the water. For the rest of the day, he stayed by me as he joked, splashed and dunked. A couple of times, Rich came over and joined us, but he wouldn't stay terribly long before going back to the deep waters. Regardless, Rory stayed the entire time.

During the walk home, I was freezing but sufficiently happy.

***

"Hey, kid. What's up?" Three and a half years after the first soccer game, the guys had gotten used to my presence, and though they still complained about it from time to time, they greatly accepted it. I was a freshman, and freshly fifteen, while they were all almost done with their senior year.

"Hey, Mike." I ducked away from his hand as he tousled my hair, almost sending me off the armrest I was sitting on. It was early spring, which meant no swimming just yet and a lot more video games. The rest of the boys all walked in behind Mike carrying an assortment of soda, snacks and X-Box 360s games as they headed down into the basement of mine and Rich's house, where all the gaming systems were.

"Let's go, Vik. I need an alien killing partner, and you have got one wicked head-shot." It had become understood that Rory and I would be on the same team for everything, no matter what.

At first, I just watched them play. Then, Rory dragged me off the arm rest of the couch I always sat on, and where he always sat next to me, until I was practically squished from all the bodies in the room. He handed me a controller and told me to play. I was terrible, and still wasn't that great, but eventually managed the greatest head shot percentage in any game that required the shooting of aliens. After that, the boys were a bit less eager to complain.

Rory and I had become much closer over the years. He acted as a surrogate brother whenever Rich couldn't be there, and always showed up whenever I asked, especially when it involved my parents fighting, and did they know how to fight. My dad was a real asshole at times. Those nights, he would sneak me out of my room and take me to the park or down to the beach while I tried not to cry, though he always assured me it was okay to. The times when I finally did break down and cry, he would wrap me in his arms. I had long since learned that Rory's arms were the most comfortable place in the world. Sometimes, I even fell asleep like that, and he would let me, without complaint. Even when I didn't cry, we would sit up talking about anything, and just like with soccer, he didn't treat me like a little kid. We had conversations worth having. No matter what, at the end of the night, I got a hug, the magical kind that made everything else disappears, and I never wanted to let go.

I sat next to Rory on the couch in the basement, as always, and waited for the boys to finish setting up the game so we could all play. "Ready? You know I'm gonna kick your ass right?" I tried giving him a challenging smile.

"You talk as if we're not on the same team, dork." Attacking my head with both hands, he messed up my hair significantly. "Try talking trash to someone who won't be saving your butt from special infected every other second." His voice was lighthearted and joking, and I could do nothing but laugh and try to push his hands away.

"You know how long it took me to get my hair to cooperate?"

Just then, the other boys finished setting everything up, and two of them came to join us on the couch made for three. The side of Rory's body was pressed up against mine, warm and firm. Not having to reach far, he patted my leg thoughtfully, glancing down and giving me another smile. Why did I suddenly feel nervous?

I didn't get much time to think about it as the game started, but for the rest of the time, I was hyper aware of how close Rory was and how much of him was touching me. Every time he spoke or laughed, I felt the vibrations he sent through the couch or straight into me. At random times, he would nudge me or tease me in a very brother-like fashion, always making me laugh or roll my eyes.

Almost two hours later, the doorbell rang.

"Oh, that's the pizza. I'll get that." Rich started to stand as he put his player on auto.

"You stay, I'll get it. I'm dead anyway." Rory offered, just as a zombie made its final blow. "Want to give me a hand, Vik?"

I glanced at my health meter on the screen, still half full. "I'm not dead yet."

He grabbed Tim's controller out of his hand and turned the character to shoot at me. Unable to react, he killed me quickly before dumping the controller back into Tim's hands. "Dude, you totally just killed my friendly fire score."

"Dude, you totally just killed me!"

"Now you can help me with the pizza." He winked with a mischievous grin, and I found it hard to stay mad at him. Standing, he offered me his hand and pulled me to my feet. Together we went up the stairs. While he retrieved the ridiculously large stack of pizzas from the delivery man, I searched the kitchen cabinets for enough plates and napkins (not that those would get used) for everyone.

"I can't believe you actually killed me like that." I accused with a playful tone in my voice.

"You were being stubborn, I had no other choice." My back was to him as we both laughed, knowing how ridiculous his excuse was.

Struggling a bit with the paper plates I grabbed, I tried pulling them apart to put each one in its own holder. "Hey, Vikki?" Until he spoke, I didn't notice that he had moved closer to me. When I turned to look at him, he was barely a foot away. "There's something I want to ask you." Placing his hand on the counter behind me, he was now only inches away. I only came up to his chest, and had to look upward to see him.

"Huh?" There was a bit of a nervous quiver in my voice, though I hoped frantically that he didn't notice. "What is it?"

"If I were more creative, I would find a better way to ask you this, but I'm not. So will you go to prom with me?"

I stared at him, blankly, more confused than I could ever remember being. "Me?" Was all I could muster up.

One corner of his mouth turned upward, almost shyly. He was still so close to me. "Of course you. I'd rather go with you than ask some random girl I barely know. Prom should be memorable, right? Twenty years from now, I want to look back at prom pictures and know that I went with someone because I a least like, not just because I wanted a date."

This barely cleared up the confusion. "Wouldn't you at least want to go with someone who looks good in a dress?"

"Have you ever worn a dress?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Then maybe you'll look good. You never know." With him so close, I was far behind the capacity to refuse. *** I stood looking at myself in the full length mirror behind the bathroom door. My dress was almost yellow kind of gold, but a duller and darker than what is normally attributed to the color. It hung rather fitted along my chest and stomach and strapless. At the knee it started to flair out away from my body a bit. My hair was left straight down, falling near the middle of my back. I wore very little make up and only managed four inch heels the same color as my dress. I put a pair of ballet slippers in my clutch just in case.

If I were being honest with myself, I would say that I actually didn't look as ridiculous as I had first thought I would. In fact, I looked pretty. Older, a bit more mature.

"Vikki?" My brother tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open. "I need to go pick up Ange... wow." His head came around the door and he saw me. Slowly, his eyes traveled from my shoes to my barely made-up face. "Wow, Vikki. You look amazing. That dress is perfect for you. Whoever would have through my baby sister not only would be wearing a dress, but would actually look this good in one." Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around me.

"You're beautiful, Vik. I have to go pick up Angela, but we'll be doing pictures here, so I'll be back soon. Rory should be on his way over, so listen for the door. Love you." Giving me a playful pat on the head, he left and closed the door behind him.

I wandered back into my room and started looking at all the old pictures that were framed on my walls. Rory and Rich had been friends for as long as I could remember. Most of the pictures had me standing in between them, both of their arms around me and all of our smiles wide and genuine.

"Vikki?" I heard my name from the first floor of the house. Rory had long surpassed the point of letting himself in. "Vik?"

"Just one second!" Suddenly, I felt nervous. Rory had seen me a million times before, in a random assortment of attire, but I could not remember ever having cared about his opinion on the matter before. This was different. Part of prom was dressing up, showing off your personality with your dress and your hair and your makeup. I wanted the way I looked to say something about me. I wanted 'simply beautiful'. With a calming deep breath, I stepped out of my room and began down the stairs.

He was not immediately by the door, but stood a little deeper in the living room, his back to me as he looked at the pictures framed on the wall. "Rory?" Why was my voice so close to shaking?

Slowly, he turned around, a polite smile on his face. Our eyes met then he scanned downward, his smile fading gently as he did, though to an expression far from disappointment. For too long, I stood on the last step of the staircase, watching him look at me. For someone I usually only saw in torn up jeans and a t-shirt, a suit was perfect on him. Everything was black -- jacket, vest, shirt, pants -- except the yellow tie I had picked out for him, one that matched the color of my dress perfectly. I was just as lost looking at him as he seemed to be looking at me.

At the same time, we both opened our mouths to speak, and then closed them to allow the other to go first. A timid, good natured laugh followed, though we were saved by the door opening. "Time for pictures!" Rich proclaimed, ushering his date inside, being followed behind by some of his other friends, their dates, and random assorted parents.

Rory took his place behind or next to me, depending on where the parents positioned us. He placed his warm hands on my waist or my arm. He rested his chin on top of my head and his elbow on my shoulder, joking around and smiling the entire time. By the time I pinned his flower on him, I was completely at ease and my face hurt from smiling, though none of it had been forced.

"Mother's worst nightmare. Okay, time for the garters, boys!" One of the mothers called out during the picture taking process.

"Watch your hands, Rory." My brother threatened, teasingly as he pulled his date to another part of the room, "That's my baby sister there." The mothers laughed at the exchange, and began snapping pictures of the boys removing the garter from their date's legs.

Neither my parents nor Riley's were in attendance, meaning it wasn't truly a photo opportunity for us. "If it makes you uncomfortable, Vik, you can just hand it to me."

I put my foot up on the second step of the stairs, giving him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "It's okay. No big deal." Slowly, I pulled the skirt of my dress upward until it rose just past my knee. Truthfully, I was more nervous than I should have been. How many times had Rory seen me in my swimsuit? How many times had he picked me up and thrown me in the lake, touched my bare skin? Why should removing my garter be a big deal?

He took a step toward me, reaching out with shaky hands until his fingers brushed my skin. Looking up, he met my eyes, and my smile widened. Our eyes stayed together as he folded his warm fingertips underneath the frilly fabric and began to move it downward, over my knee, across my calf, to my ankle and then over my shoe. The moment seemed locked in time, unreal, and I couldn't help but wonder how long we stood there.

Hours later I had finished a three course meal, all the boys had removed their jackets and many of the girls had abandoned their shoes, so glad I brought those flats. I had danced with all of Rich's friends as per their request, and I hoped that none of their dates minded as I was twirled and twisted.

Rory would offer to dance with the abandoned date each time it happened, but only about half a song would pass by before he would ask to cut back in with his own date. "You just want to keep her all to yourself, don't you?" One of the boys accused when this happened to him.

"She is my date," he responded with a smile, before putting his hands on my waist and pulling me closer to him.

"What is it?" I asked as my hands found their comfortable place, locked behind his neck. I saw something in his eyes that I didn't quite recognize.

"Hm?"

"You look uncomfortable or I don't know like you're stressing about something. What is it?"

"Oh, nothing." Even if he hadn't broken eye contact with me in that moment, I would have known he was lying.

"Please tell me."

There was a minute hesitation before he gave me a weary smile. "Notice how the guys are fighting over you, tonight? They're all really eager to dance with you." I definitely hadn't thought of it as fighting, nor had I recognized any of them as having wanted to dance with me for any reason other than for the sake of fun.

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