NORMAL (52 page)

"Hey!"

"Sorry," she murmurs sheepishly, "but can you blame me?"

"Yes!"

"Fine, whatever. Hey, it wasn't your first time, was it?" she asks.

"Not exactly," I reply, my voice barely more than a whisper. Carl has seen my overreactions to accidental touches, she's seen me nearly panic on occasion, but she doesn't know details.

"How do you mean? You can't be half a virgin," she says gently.

I shake my head. "No, I wasn't a virgin. But... my ex, it was different than it was with Sam, that's all." I chicken out. Part of me wants to tell her about Robin, but most of me just wants to forget.

Carl considers me. I'm not sure if she's buying my explanation. "Do you think you and Cap will, like, be together now? Did you talk about it?" she asks instead.

I shake my head. "No, I don't know what he wants, but like you said, he doesn't do the girlfriend thing. And I'm not girlfriend material anyway," I mutter defeatedly.

"That's ridiculous, Rory," she argues, and I shake my head again, soberly.

"Come on, Carl, you know I have issues. Maybe you don't know the whole story, but you've seen the scars, and you haven't seen the half of it. It could never work out. He knows I'm fucked up, and no one would want that, not for real. And even if he could, he deserves better." I outline the ice-cold, stone- hard facts.

"Rory-"

I hold up my hand to stop her. I don't need platitudes confusing me more right now. "I don't want to talk about it, okay? Look, I know my limitations, and so does Sam. I don't know what will happen after break, I just know being with him makes me happy, and I just want to enjoy that as long as I can, you know?"

Carl nods. "I get what you're saying, Rory, and if you don't want to talk about it, then we won't, but for the record, I think you're wrong."

I don't respond. What would be the point? She doesn't know how screwed up I really am, so she can't understand why Sam and I could never happen, not for real, and just debating it is making my heart ache in the worst way. After such a wonderful afternoon, I was in such good spirits, and I don't want to be brought down.

"Alright you, I need to shower and get ready if we're going out," I say, shaking off the melancholy that threatens to overtake my mood. Carl glances at her watch and jumps up.

"Damn, we're meeting in the lobby in an hour and I haven't started my makeup!" she yelps.

I laugh. I have to shower, dry my hair, and get dressed in the same hour she's concerned about completing her makeup in. The truth is I could be ready in twenty minutes.

I see her out and walk back to Sam's suite to give him the bad news about tonight, but the way he's standing there staring at me makes me think he might already know.

"No room service?" he says with a disappointed pout.

I shake my head in confirmation. "Carl needs girl time and I owe her, she's always there for me," I explain as Sam closes the distance between us and slides an arm around my waist.

"Yeah I know," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss my hair. "But I don't have to be happy about it."

I laugh "We're all meeting up after dinner anyway," I offer in consolation, to him or myself I'm not sure. "Wait, how did you know our night in was cancelled?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Eavesdropper!" I accuse.  

Sam chuckles loudly. "Hey! At least I admit it! And at least I stopped listening when you started talking about me," he adds with a wry smile.

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about," I tease, biting my lip to suppress my tell-tale smile.

"Is that so, baby girl?" he says softly, bending slightly at the knees so that we're eye to eye. My breath catches in my throat.
He really is stunning.
"So your telling Carl that you bet Tuck misses her right now, that was just a coincidence?" he asks, his eyes alight with humor, referencing Tuck's earlier comment during their private conversation about being "fucked" because he was already missing her even though he'd just left her. I try to come up with some witty response, but with Sam's face so close to mine, all I can focus on are his full, pink lips, slightly swollen from how much I've kissed them today.

"I... may have inadvertently overheard a small part of your conversation," I whisper. Sam grins triumphantly.

"That's what I thought," he breathes, and leans into me, obviously meaning to kiss me, but I pull away at the last second, sacrificing my own desire to punish him for forcing my confession.

"Hmm, well I guess I need to go shower and get ready for my girls' night," I tease, and turn to walk back to my room, intentionally slowly, giving him time to stop me, which he does by grabbing my hand and yanking me back to him. I laugh.

"Girls'
dinner
," he corrects, and then kisses me in earnest, causing my knees to weaken and making me reconsider prioritizing my friendship with Carl over a night in with him.

He pulls away with a satisfied smirk, clearly pleased with my punch-drunk reaction.

"Hurry up, beautiful girl, I've got to be down there in less than an hour and I need to kiss you some more before dinner to hold me over."

I nod and wordlessly head back to my room to take my shower.

I want to hurry, as he'd instructed, but if I plan to be intimate with him again tonight, I have to make this a utility shower. My bikini line is waxed, but I take the time to go over my legs with my razor carefully, knowing that if the evening goes the way I hope, his hands will be all over them in just a few long hours.

I don't bother drying my hair, instead I sit out on the balcony allowing the wind to dry it into beachy waves, and light the cigarette I bummed from Dave last night, but hadn't gotten around to smoking. Fortunately it was still in my bag, unbroken.

I try not to think too much about this thing with me and Sam. I know if I analyze it any more, I will just come to the same conclusion I've already come to time and time again. That it is temporary and that I will eventually be hurt. But right now, on spring break, I intend to enjoy every minute of it I can - this small taste of a normal, happy, future that simply isn't in the cards for me, thanks to Robin Forbes.

I slip on a white sun dress and dress it up with a thin black belt around my waist. I pair it, as usual, with my black motorcycle boots. It's a little short for me, but it comes to mid-thigh, and I know it will be longer than anything the other girls have on tonight.

I know I won't look nearly as dolled up as I did last night without Carl's cosmetic expertise, but it doesn't really matter. I feel more comfortable in just a little mascara and lip gloss anyway, and it isn't as if Sam didn't already know what was under all that powder and shine.

When I'm satisfied that I'm presentable enough, I knock timidly on the adjoining door to Sam's suite, not wanting to catch him getting dressed. Well, maybe that's not true, but knowing it would be impolite to just barge in as if I had some inherent right to be there.

Sam opens the door with an inquisitive look, as if he disagrees that I should have hesitated to just walk on in, but his expression changes immediately as he looks me over.  He's in jeans, the waistband of his boxer briefs peeking out from the top, and nothing else, making it impossible to look away from the taut muscles of his perfect pecs and six pack.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around me. I sigh, breathing in the clean scent of a freshly showered Sam. He's freaking delicious. "Let me just grab my shirt," he says as he releases me and heads back into the bedroom. I see his tablet sitting on the coffee table and remember I need to email my mom to check in since my forgotten phone died in my beach bag hours earlier.

"Can I use your iPad to email my mom?" I ask, sitting on the sofa and picking it up.

"Sure," he calls from the bedroom, "just, uh, wait a minute-"

Sam rushes out to me, but it's too late, I'm already powering it on, and my heart stops the instant the screen lights up.

"Ror-"

"What the fuck?" I breathe.

I jump up from my seat and stare with wide, horror-filled eyes, as Robin's deceptively boyishly-handsome face smiles at me from his Facebook page. I gasp in shock as the tablet tumbles from my trembling hands and I close my eyes and start counting backwards in an attempt to control my racing pulse.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I flinch back, my eyes springing open, and I stumble, nearly falling, before I catch myself on the arm of the sofa. Sam's face is etched with worry, and I can see that he's beside himself, at a loss for what to do with me. He reaches out to touch me again, and I take a cautious step back. I don't know why. I know he won't hurt me, but I can't think straight right now, and my instinct is to protect myself.

Sam backs up a few small steps, his hands held up as if to show me he's harmless. I close my eyes again and shake my head, trying to pull myself together.

Nothing's changed,
I remind myself. I'm in Sam's room. Sam, my
friend
. My
something more
. He wouldn't hurt me. Robin isn't here. It's only his picture. He can't hurt me now.

But why the fuck is Sam's Facebook account open to Robin's page?

I take a deep breath and I lean on the arm of the sofa. I should sit. I should calm down. But I can't. I need to stay on my feet. I'm jumping out of my own skin, and I can’t escape the feeling that I need to be ready to run.

"Rory, it's okay," Sam says carefully. "I'm sorry-"

"Why?" I ask sternly, desperate to know why I've just been made to look into the hazel eyes that not only haunt my nightmares, but my every goddamn waking moment.

"I didn't mean for you-"

"Why?!"

"
Fuck
, Rory, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to see that. I was just... curious. I knew his first name and the town you're from. After everything you told me this morning... I just- wanted to look him up, that's all," he says with a shrug.

That's all? Is he serious?!

"I don't want him to be a part of this," I mutter in frustration.

Sam's brow furrows. "A part of what?"

"Us!" I shout.
Oh, shit, I didn't mean to say that.
There is no
us
, not really. I rake my fingers through my hair. "I mean...
us
- our friends, and my life now. Just all of it. I'm trying to move on," I backtrack, trying to explain. Sam takes a cautious step toward me and when I don't back away, he takes another.

"He's not, Ror," he whispers. "I'm sorry, please don't let this upset you. I just wanted to know what he looked like, I never meant for you to have to see his photo," he assures me as his fingers tentatively brush my cheek, and I turn into his touch automatically.

"That part of my life is over, Sam. He's nothing, he doesn't matter," I murmur, trying to convince myself as much as him.

Something that resembles resentment flashes in Sam's eyes. "How can you say that? Look what he's done to you, Rory! You can't even see his photo without nearly panicking!"

I narrow my eyes at him. "I thought you said you were just curious?" I accuse. "But now it sounds like more than that, Sam, so I'll ask you again. Why were you lookin' him up? What are you plannin'?"

I try to sound calm, but my heart is thumping in my chest like a snare drum. I know this man, and I know this isn't just casual curiosity. His face is hard, impassive. After all the details I admitted this morning about all the things Robin did to me, Sam is not simply
curious
. I recognize the same thing I saw in Cam's eyes the night I told him the same thing.
Wrath
.

I can't allow this. This is why I didn't want to tell him.

"I'm not planning anything, Rory," he says carefully, and though my gut tells me he isn't lying, he isn't telling me everything either.

But it's not his job to protect me and it certainly isn't his job to avenge me. Nothing good can come of this, only pain and loss - two things I can bear no more of.

"You'll swear to me you ain't goin' after him?" I mean to come across as foreboding, but instead I sound desperate and childish. I may as well ask him to pinky swear.  

Sam doesn't respond at first, he just glares at me. "I told you I'm not planning anything," he repeats.

"That ain't what I asked!" I shout, and his fingers shove roughly through his hair.

"I don't know what you want to hear, Rory! I fucking
hate
him! I
hate
what he did to you, and I
hate
that he just got away with it!"

"He didn't-"

"Don't you tell me again about his stupid fucking scholarship! He deserves to be in jail! He deserves to be fucking dead!" Sam's eyes are heated, his entire body tense.

"It ain't your job to mete out punishment! I don't
want
you to!"

I can't let him put himself at risk. Doesn't he understand that
he's
the one who could end up hurt or in jail if he went after Robin? Or
worse?
I couldn't handle losing him! Doesn't he get that?!