Solicitors weren't allowed inside the apartment building, but that didn't always stop the occasional, over-enthusiastic entrepreneur, or Girl Scouts selling cookies. He went to the door fully expecting the person on the other side to be one or the other. He peered through the peephole and gasped.
Rory stood outside the door, looking slightly distorted through the peephole's fisheye lens. He was still dressed in his white Groundskeeping costume.
Kyle glanced at the kitchen wall clock, visible from the front door. Their shift had ended a half-hour ago. Rory must have come straight to Kyle's apartment from work.
Kyle unchained and unlocked the door and flung it open. "What are you doing here, Rory? How did you get my address?"
"Hi, Rory. Good to see you. Come on in and sit a spell," Rory said with his usual sarcastic tone. He leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded across his chest, his cheek hitched in a lopsided grin.
Kyle frowned. "How did you find me?" he asked again.
"I asked a couple of the other guys if anyone knew where you lived. Said you forgot your cell phone, and I was going to drop it off to you."
"So... you lied."
Rory nonchalantly lifted a shoulder as he walked past Kyle into the living room, just as if Kyle had asked him in. "Sort of, I guess, if you want to get technical. But if you didn't run off like you did, I wouldn't have had to track you down. Nice place, by the way. You gonna ask me to sit down?"
"What do you want, Rory?" Kyle was in no mood to be hospitable. He was still angry at himself, and more than a little annoyed at Rory for following him home. He was also feeling embarrassed over his earlier outburst, and from leaving work early. Nice example you set for the new guy.
Rory turned to face Kyle and the full effect of Rory's handsome face and gray eyes stopped Kyle cold. Somehow, while at work at Happy World, with Kyle's mind consumed by the rules and regulations, he'd been more or less oblivious to the fact that Rory was gorgeous. In the small confines of his apartment, with nothing to distract him, Kyle was suddenly keenly aware of Rory's good looks. He felt a stab of desire rip through him that went balls deep.
His annoyance forgotten, and embarrassed by his body's reaction, Kyle tore his eyes away and looked toward the kitchen in an effort to distract himself. "So sit," he said. "Do you want a glass of water? Soda? I have tuna salad." He knew he was rambling, and bit his lip to stop himself.
Rory laughed, and the sound did funny things to pit of Kyle's stomach. "Okay, a one-eighty. I can live with that. Water is good, and tuna salad sounds fabulous. I haven't eaten anything since lunch, and I'm feeling a little funky."
Funky? Kyle remembered Rory's medical alert bracelet and diabetic condition. The last thing he needed after the day he'd had was Rory going into shock or whatever it was that diabetics did when their sugar dropped, especially not in the middle of his living room. "Are you okay? What can I do?"
"Feed me, Seymour," Rory said.