TEN

 

P R E S E N T   D A Y

 

SAM PRETENDED THAT Tuesday night in the school library never happened, and I'm grateful. I'm still struggling with my reaction that night, and I've tried not to dwell on it too much. Tonight is my therapy session, so I can wait until then to process how it is that the one thing that terrifies me most - being overpowered by a man, even if it was just a hug - is what managed to quell a full blown panic attack with just the help of a few whispered words of comfort.

At the moment I'm mostly concerned about calc. Tomorrow is the big test, and I'm still having trouble with some of the material, but Sam has assured me he'll have me ready.

I rush through the rain to my jeep since it's my turn to drive to lunch today, but as I sit in the driver's seat I find I can't move. I have issues driving in the rain, so I ask Carl if she doesn't mind switching places and she agrees without question. Carl has noticed some of my issues, though she hasn't seen anything close to an attack. I've told her I went through some things last year that I'm still dealing with - the same thing I initially told Sam - and she's been sympathetic. It's good to have real friends, and while no one can ever replace what Cam and I had, I've never in my life had girl friends I actually believed cared about me. It's not something I take for granted.

I step out to let Carl into the driver's seat and Sam catches me to tell me he can't meet me in the library after school because he has to drive his sister to a doctor's appointment. I call back that I'll text him to figure it out, and hastily jump into the passenger seat before I can get totally drenched.

What about calc test? I text Sam.

I can meet you after.

But I have my therapy session at five thirty.

We pull up to the diner before I can reply, so I jog over to where Sam is getting out of Andrew's car with Tuck and Dave.

"Damn, Ror." He shrugs off his jacket and holds it over both our heads to protect us from the rain. "Don't you have a jacket or an umbrella or something?" he chides.

"No, Dad, it's just a little rain," I tease, and we both tense, aware that dads are a sensitive subject for both of us, and the truth is the rain is a sensitive one for me. What isn't a sensitive subject for me?

Once under the awning Sam shakes out his soaked jacket and I wait for him.

"I have a doctor's appointment at five thirty. I can't miss it," I tell him.

"I gotta drive Bits at four and pick her up at five," he replies.

"Bits is some nickname," I observe, earning a playful elbow to my side.

"Hey. I couldn't say Beth when she was born. I was only three. I called her Bits, and what can I say? It kind of stuck. Give me a break, will ya?"

I laugh. At least it's a reasonable explanation.

"Want to meet up at like seven? You could come over for dinner. My mom will be there, and Bits would love to meet you." He pulls the door and holds it open for me.

I actually consider it. If it's a family dinner then we won't be alone. And after my freak out in the library, the fact is, Sam's had me alone. If he wanted to do something about it, take advantage of it in some way, surely he would have already. But then, Sam has also made it abundantly clear he has no romantic or sexual interest in me - that he's only ever wanted me as a friend. I should be comforted by the fact that he isn't attracted to me. I know that.

I ignore the small pang of disappointment that tightens my chest, and remind myself that friendship is all I want, too. It's all I can handle. That’s if you call accusing him of luring me down to a pond to have exhibitionist sex, and now, of intentionally trapping me in a deserted library with nefarious intent, "handling it". For the millionth time I wonder what the hell appeals to him about a friendship with me in the first place. Maybe there's something wrong with him.

And how fucked up is it that I'm searching for some character flaw to explain Sam wanting to be my friend?

It's utterly unfathomable that I'm actually starting to trust a guy, but I am. I also try not to dwell on the fact that if his sister would want to meet me, it means he's mentioned me. Why this pleases me, I don't know. We're friends, so it's normal if he's mentioned me in passing. I only hope it wasn't in a passing conversation about how I freaked out and more or less accused him of trying to trap and assault me. In inwardly cringe at the memory.

The truth is I'm curious about his sister. In fact, I'm curious to learn anything I can about Sam. After all, he knows more about me than anyone other than my mother and psychiatrist.

Yeah. I decide dinner at his house isn't such a bad idea.

"Okay, but you better get me ready for that test," I warn, teasingly poking him in his chest with my index finger. Damn, that's muscular. Just like the rest of him.

"Yeah?" he asks, eyes wide with both a hint of surprise and a whisper of hope.

"Yeah," I confirm, and Sam breaks out into a triumphant, lopsided grin.

It was barely over a month ago that I told him I couldn't handle being at his house even with his family there, and I know he reads the significance in the fact that I'm agreeing to do just that. He doesn't say anything more about it, though. Instead, he slings an arm casually around my shoulders as we both scan the diner for our respective groups of friends.

"There," Sam nods in the direction of the booth in which our friends have apparently decided to eat together, and leads us on.

I don't think anything of Sam's arm around me until Carl's only vaguely surreptitious look silently accuses me of a secret affair. I roll my eyes before scooting in beside her, Sam following behind me.

It's only two minutes later that Chelsea walks in with her friend Lily, and Dave calls out for them to join us.

And they do.

Chelsea slides in next to Sam, and we all scoot over to make room. Dave gets up and grabs a chair, situating it at the head of the table to make room for Lily.

Carl and Tuck flirtatiously tease each other while Chelsea chats away with Sam, careful to hoard his attention. Andrew eats with one hand so he can keep Tina tucked close with the other. Dave makes eyes at Lily, whose batting eyelashes and hair flipping over her shoulder make it obvious she's receptive to whatever he's offering. It isn't surprising; Dave is handsome like his friends, though he has the sense of humor of a perverted clown, making it difficult to take him even remotely seriously.

Suddenly I feel like the odd man out. Invisible again. And for some reason, right now, it bothers me.

They're all talking about spring break. Apparently Sam's uncle is high up in the corporate food chain at the W Hotel Group and is hooking everyone up with luxury accommodations - not standard high school spring breaker lodgings, that's for sure. I knew Sam's family was wealthy, but this is some hook-up. An image of Chelsea in a string bikini, flirting with a shirtless Sam on the beach flashes through my mind unbidden.

"I think I might have changed my mind about coming," I blurt suddenly.

And I've lost my damned mind.

Carl shrieks excitedly and Chelsea fakes a pleased smile, but Sam is the first to speak. "Really?" he asks.

I shrug. "I've been thinking about what you said. About only being a senior once." I immediately regret my sudden outburst. Especially the last part where I've just admitted, in front of Chelsea no less, that Sam tried to convince me to come, and she's irked, I can tell. Way to stay off her radar, Rory.

"Come, Ror. It'll be fun, I promise," Sam says.

"I don't know if my mom will let me," I backtrack, though it is the truth. "And this close to break I doubt there will be any hotel rooms or flights..."

"You can stay with me and Tina. Tina will probably be staying in Andy's room anyway," Carl teases and Tina blushes and yanks Carl's ponytail in retaliation.

"I, uh, would need my own room... sleep issues," I explain with a shrug.

"Who's sleeping?" Carl replies, "It's spring break! We're there to party, not sleep!"

I roll my eyes, but under the table, unseen by the others, Sam squeezes my knee. I meet his gaze.

"I'll take care of it," he breathes into my ear.

Sam has no way of knowing about my nightmares, but somehow he understands how important it is for me to have my own hotel room. That's if I do convince my mom to let me go, and that's only if I myself decide I really do want to go.

Carl and Tina spend the rest of lunch trying to convince me to come, while Chelsea gives detailed descriptions of the swimsuits she's purchased in what is, to me at least, a transparent attempt at stealing Sam's attention. Sam's disinterest is infinitely pleasing to me.

Out of nowhere, Chelsea asks why I don't change in the locker room for phys-ed - the one class I have with her. Sam glares at her, but I just shrug.

"I prefer to change in the bathroom. Privacy," I murmur. Carl tries to change the subject but Chelsea persists.

"But there are bathroom stalls in the locker room, of course." 

I don't know what she's playing at, but it's clear she's trying to put me on the spot, likely for Sam's benefit. But if she's trying to show Sam that there's something wrong with me, the joke's on her. He already knows.

"We should get back to school," Sam says dismissively. He turns so his back to her. "I'll see you at my house for dinner, Rory?"

I nod, but I'm inwardly cringing. I know he was trying to make some point in defense of me, but what it was, I don't know. That will just have pissed Chelsea off more, and while some small part of me is satisfied by Sam making point of showing Chelsea that I'm his friend, most of me wishes he'd just let it go.

I cut phys ed and head home one period early. I make myself a snack and settle at my desk to work on my English paper. Restless, I leave a little earlier than usual to make my five thirty appointment with Dr. Schall. At five after, I sign in and, as always, wonder why they even keep a sign-in sheet when they remove it after each patient to ensure confidentiality. I'm reading on my tablet when the front door swings open, and to utter my astonishment, in walks Sam.

My mouth gapes open. What the hell is he doing here?

"Rory?" He seems as confused as I am.

Just then, the door to Dr. Schall's office opens and out walks a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, and though her hair is blonde, her unmistakable midnight blue eyes tell me immediately who she is.

"Hiya Sammy," she murmurs nonchalantly. She doesn't seem like a girl who tried to kill herself in the past year, but maybe I don't look like what I actually am either.

"Hey, Bits," he replies softly. And I understand. Bits's doctor's appointment. I swallow anxiously.

"Bits, this is- uh, Rory. My friend I told you about. Rory, this is my sister."

Bits seems confused, and maybe a little annoyed. I realize she probably thinks Sam brought me along to pick her up, and that would be a pretty egregious invasion of privacy since this is clearly a therapist's office.

"I, um, have an appointment with Dr. Schall. At five thirty," I explain nervously. This is so damn awkward. I remind myself that Sam already knows I have issues. He's seen my prescription bottle - obviously they were prescribed by a doctor. And I don't even know Bits. Anyway, she has problems of her own. Surely she wouldn't judge me. Right?

She visibly relaxes at my explanation. "Well that is some coincidence."

Sam and I still have our gazes locked, but neither of us speaks. I wonder if he knows Dr. Schall specializes in teen victims of violence and abuse.

God, of course he does! He must. His sister sees him, and obviously her family - her wealthy family who could afford any doctor they wanted - did their research before choosing him. Part of the reason my mom joined the big firm was because their insurance covered him. I run through some of the crazy things I've said or done in front of Sam since we've met, and realize he's probably already deduced that I'm a victim of something. Seeing me here shouldn't change anything. But God, why won't he say anything?

"You're going to be joining us for dinner, aren't you, Rory?" Bits asks in a clear attempt to break the tension.

I force a small smile for her benefit. "Um, yeah. After my, uh, appointment. Sam tutors me for calculus and we have a big test tomorrow," I explain.

"Great, looking forward to it," she replies, and starts toward the door.

Dr. Schall emerges from his office and shakes my hand. It took us a few sessions before I felt comfortable with even that minor contact, but lately it's been fine. "Come on in, Rory," he invites.

"Yeah, me too. See you later," I murmur back to Bits.

Sam continues to stare at me. "Uh, later, Ror," he mutters, and follows his sister out the door.

****

 

When I leave the office an hour later, the day's rain has let up into a light drizzle.

No.

No, no no! Shit!

I left my headlights on. Who does that? Fuck!

I unlock my jeep and fling myself inside. I shakily jam the key into the ignition, pray, and turn.

Please please please...

The engine growls half-heartedly like a sickly dog on its last leg, but it has no bite, refusing to spark to life.

I try again with no luck. Fuck.

I don't know what the hell to do. My mom's working late and she won't be home until eight.

I suck in a deep breath. Okay, well I can't stay out here, because I can't be alone, even in my car, out at night.

It's dark. And unnervingly desolate.

Okay, Rory, don't panic.

I scurry back inside the office, but only make it as far as the vestibule. The office door is locked. I ring the buzzer, but there's no response, and after trying several more times and knocking until my knuckles sting, I realize Dr. Schall and his receptionist must have left through the back. I'd forgotten about the back exit.

Fear rolls in my gut, my hands trembling as I take out my phone. I tell myself everything is fine, but my anxiety is a living, breathing monster, whispering that my fear is indeed very rational - the danger lurking just beyond the meager protection of the glass doors, earnest and laying in wait. My pulse races as I make to call Carl, but at the last moment my shaky fingers dial Sam's number instead.

"Rory?" he answers.

"Hey," I greet, trying to remain calm. I take a deep, steadying breath. "Look, I left my headlights on and my car won't start. I'm still at Dr. Schall's," I say tremulously. I'm trying to keep it together, but I'm frightened, and I know he can hear it in my voice.

"I'll be right there. Stay inside." In the background I can hear he's already on the move, which calms me a little.

"Everyone already left. I didn't notice, when I was trying to get my car to start. I can't get back in. I'm in the vestibule," I say a little less shakily, but not by much.

"Everything's going to be fine, Rory. Just stay in the vestibule. If there's a lock you can turn from the inside, do it. Otherwise just stay inside and I'll see you in ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay." There is a lock, so I turn it and relax a little more.

Sam takes an audibly deep breath. "You want me to stay on the phone with you?" 

I know I should say no - that I'm already burdening him enough this evening with having me over for dinner, teaching me calculus, and now having to rescue me from my own stupidity. "If you don't mind," I say instead, surprising even myself with the potency of my accent.

"I don't mind, Rory. Of course not," he assures me, and goes on to apologize about freezing earlier, explaining that he was just surprised to see me here.

I tell him not to worry about it and that I was kind of stunned, too. I say Bits seems nice, because she does, and we chat about nothing and everything while he drives and I try not to freak out. He talks more about Miami, and promises it'd be no imposition to get me my own room. He even quizzes me on math.

When Sam arrives, he orders me to wait until he gets to the door to unlock the bolt. I only hang up when he's right outside the door, and as soon as I'm out of the vestibule, without even thinking about it, I step right into his arms. They wrap around me like I belong in them, and now, finally, I relax.

"Thanks," I breathe as I step out of our hug.

"No problem, Ror. Come on, I forgot an umbrella when I rushed out." He grabs my hand to lead me in a hurried jog to his Escalade.  

When we're safely inside the car I turn to face him, only vaguely registering that I'm alone, in a car, with a guy, and I'm not afraid. This is a trigger for me. A big one. And yet... nothing.

"I'm real sorry about this," I murmur. Damn, I sound so southern, so damsel in distress, and it's the last thing I want to be in front of him.

"No big deal. It happens. But I don't have jumper cables in my car and it's really coming down out there. Are you cool to leave your car here overnight?"

"I guess, but what about school-"

"I'll drive you."

****

 

We pull up to his red brick colonial just after seven. It's a beautiful house. Big, but not obnoxiously so. A traditional French style crystal chandelier hangs in the enormous window overlooking the mahogany front door. I'm feeling disheveled, and I'm sure I look it, too. My clothes and hair are damp from the rain, and it's less than ideal for meeting Sam's family. Sam keeps driving around to the side of the house, and pulls into the garage, on account of the rain no doubt.

I get out and look around. It's been professionally designed and organized, that's for certain. Black and white rubber tiles blanket the concrete, making the garage feel like a room in the house. The back and side walls are all done in custom cabinetry, and there's a huge Subzero party fridge as well.

Sam takes my hand and leads me up the three steps to what I assume is the back hall. It leads around a corner, past a bedroom and a guest bathroom, right into the kitchen, which is filled with a mouth-watering combination of savory aromas, but is otherwise empty.

"Mom! Bits!" Sam calls out. "We're here!"

Footsteps pad from above and down the back staircase beside the kitchen, and Sam's sister appears.

"Hi guys. Mom's just on the phone with Aunt Cathy. She'll be right down," Bits says. "Nice to see you again. Just so you know, Sam and Mom are pretty much the only people who call me Bits. My actual name is Beth," she says with a amiable smile.

"Well it's nice to meet you Bits, Beth, whichever you prefer," I reply.

She shrugs. "Honestly, it doesn't make the slightest difference to me. Totally up to you."

"I like Bits," I admit.

"Me too," she replies and smiles conspiratorially. "I'll get the food on the table. Maybe Sammy can give you a tour."

I laugh. "Sure, Sammy, that would be great," I tease with an innocent smile, batting my eyelashes at him.

Sam rolls his eyes and hooks his arm around my shoulder to lead me out of the kitchen and down another hall. "She likes you," he murmurs. "She's not usually so open with new people."

"I like her, too."

Sam shows me the main foyer, which leads on one side to a formal dining room and a family room on the other. Straight back is a grand "great room", which my house - old or new - certainly doesn't have. It's all decorated in transitional furniture and decor - somewhat traditional with contemporary accents. Either it was professionally decorated or Sam's mom has a real knack for interior design.

When we return to the kitchen, Bits is still busy getting the food together. "Almost ready, go show her upstairs, it'll be ready when you're done," she calls back to us without looking.

Sam peeks down at me inquisitively.

"Calculus," I murmur. The truth is, I think I would be okay walking around upstairs alone with him - I really do. But I'm not sure - I can't be sure. Perhaps I'll never be sure. And I can't risk having a panic attack tonight. Not here. And for that reason, I use our safe word.

"Oh, you'll have plenty of time to study after dinner," Bits mutters flippantly and Sam and I exchange secretive grins. I chose a good safe word.

Sam's mom emerges from the foyer and introduces herself as Elaine Caplan. She's absolutely stunning, but looking at her children, I'd expect nothing less. Bits got her blonde hair from her mom, but Elaine's is shoulder length and layered, and her eyes are brown, similar to mine.

She invites us to sit at the kitchen table, and serves me chicken breast with rice pilaf and steamed vegetables. It's really rather good. We chat about school, and they ask minimal questions about my life before I moved here, and I wonder if Sam warned them not to pry into my past. I don't know if I'm grateful or annoyed if he did.

We study in the dining room after dinner, and by the time Sam guarantees me a ninety or better, I'm already half exhausted. My phone buzzes.

Shit, it's my mom. It's almost ten and I haven't checked in since she called me when she got home just after eight and I told her about my car. My phone screen reveals several missed calls from her, and I sigh as I answer, peeking over at Sam, who's gathering up our practice tests.

"Hi, mom. I'm fine. Just finishing up now," I answer.

"Rory, do you know how worried I've been? I've been calling for thirty minutes!" she shouts, obviously frazzled. My mother used to be a totally laid back parent. She'd get passionately riled up about clients and causes, but me she trusted implicitly. And while I think she still trusts me for the most part, my judgment is another story.

She was truly shocked to the bone to learn what'd happened - what'd been happening for so long right under her nose. I know in many ways she blamed herself. Blames herself. Not as much as she blames my father though, and I think that actually helped with her self-recrimination. But since everything came out, she's been making up for lost time. Where we used to go full days without connecting, now she checks in with me every couple of hours when I'm out. Where I used to eat alone or next door with Cam, now she's sure to have dinner with me most week nights, unless she has to work late, .

"Sorry, I've been studying. I told you. My phone was on vibrate in my bag. I didn't hear it," I explain.

"God, Rory. I've been imagining all kinds of things. I don't even know this Sam person! How do I know-"

"Mom, calm down. Sam's my friend, okay? I told you. We're not even alone. I'm fine. I mean it," I reassure her. From hands-off parent to helicopter in one year or less.

Sam watches me out of the corner of his eye, and though he's trying to feign disinterest in a conversation that is clearly about him, I know he hears every word of my end.

My mom sighs. "Alright, why don't you give me his address and I'll come pick you up."

"It's fine, Mom, I told you he would drive me home."

"Aurora, that boy has spent his evening rescuing you from a dead car battery and teaching you math, give him a break-"

"Alright one sec!" I cut her off. She's driving me crazy. I hate when she calls me 'Aurora', it just reminds me of my father. And the truth is I feel guilty, because this isn't her. This isn't the Amy Pine I grew up with. This is a woman who had the rug pulled out from under her in the worst way, all because of me, and who lost her husband and her home in the fallout. And she's right about me burdening Sam, too.

I peek over at Sam, who's given up pretending not to be paying attention. "Everything okay?" he asks tentatively.

I nod. "Yeah, my mom is just lecturing me on imposing on people. She wants to come pick me up to save you the drive, but I don't even know the address here."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Imposing? Don't be ridiculous, you just said it yourself, 'Sayum's mah friend, okay?'" he teases in an exaggeratedly southern Rory voice that sounds more like Scarlet O'Hara than me. I giggle and cover the mic on my phone.

"I don't mind driving you, really," he adds sincerely.

"Yeah but you have to drive me to school in the morning too. My mom leaves too early to get to the city for work-"

Sam has taken two long-legged steps and is suddenly right in front of me. He places his hand gently on my upper arm. "I'm driving you home, like I said I would, and tomorrow I'll drive you to school, like I said I would. You wouldn't be calling it an imposition if I was Carl, and if you were Tuck you'd be demanding I take you through the drive-thru for takeout on the way."

I stare at him up, silently bemused, because I know he's right. I don't stop him when he slowly takes my phone from my hand, and proceeds to introduce himself to my mother. He assures her it's no imposition to give me a ride, that I'd do the same for him, and that I've actually done him a favor by forcing him to study for our test. When he hands me back the phone, my mom is calm and there's a smile in her voice.

"See you soon, honey," she sings, and hangs up.

What has Sam done to my mother?

****

 

On the ride home I once again marvel at how comfortable I am in a situation that is, in itself, one of my most precarious triggers. I remember the last time I was alone in a car with a man - when Sheriff Chipley, the father of one of my closest friends and a man I'd known my entire life , gave me a ride home from his office last May. I freaked out. When he parked in front of my house I tried the door handle, but it was locked. I turned to find him facing me, not getting out of the car like I'd expected. In retrospect he was probably just poised to offer me some comforting words, since he turned out to be one of the few people to actually stand by me through the aftermath, but in that moment all I knew was utter terror. I smacked him, screamed, cried, hyperventilated, and ended up spending the night in the hospital.

But right now, alone with Sam, who outwardly seems to have a lot in common with Robin, I feel no fear. Because I believe that inside Sam and Robin couldn't possibly be more different. Sam is slowly earning my trust - something that just over a month ago I'd never have thought possible - and I smile to myself at the thought.

"What's with the secret smile?" Sam asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I look over at him, chewing my lip as I consider him a moment, before deciding to simply tell him the truth. "I beat a trigger," I reply proudly.

"Oh yeah? Which one is that?"

"I'm in the car with you. Alone. And I'm not panicking. I'm not even scared," I admit, unable to keep the self-satisfaction out of my voice. In fact, I sound downright boastful.

Sam continues to glance between me and the road. "Was that trigger specific to me? Or guys? Or being alone with anyone?" he asks.

"Guys. Men. Being alone with a guy in general is... well I haven't been in almost a year, anyway. Except for you, obviously. But in a car... I never thought I'd be able to do it again, to be honest. Not ever," I admit, wondering why I feel so compelled to answer him when he asks me a question, even an inherently personal one.

Sam considers my words, then nods. "It's the safe word. See? I told you it would work. You're comfortable because you know if I do something to bug you all you have to do is say one word and I'll back off."

I think about his explanation and determine that while the safe word has definitely helped in the way he's described, it really worked more as a facilitator than anything. Because while I may not have had "calculus" to say before, I still had "no" and "stop" and all the others, and I know better than anyone that with the wrong person, no word, safe or otherwise, is worth a damn.

"It's not just the safe word and you know it," I whisper.  

We stop at a red light and Sam looks at me intently. "Like I said, you're stronger than you think you are, Ror."

I shrug and look away as the light turns green, and Sam's eyes return to the road and he drives on. I'm still not sure he's right about that.

"Are you coming to Andrew's tomorrow night? I think it's gonna be a smaller thing, not a big party." He changes the subject.

"No, I can't. My mom's friend is coming to visit and we're going out to dinner."  One of her closest friends from childhood is coming out from the city and my mom is really looking forward to it. Even though she works in Manhattan, my mother rarely has time to do anything social. She usually even works through lunch or has to meet with clients.

"You and your mom are pretty close, huh? I mean you're always saying you have to have dinner with her..."

He's right. I do have dinner with her most week nights, and I've used this as an excuse many times to avoid social invitations. "We're all each other has," I shrug. "She gave up her whole life for me. I'm the reason they got divorced - my parents I mean. The least I can do is have dinner with her."

"We have that in common then," Sam says quietly after a pregnant pause.

I turn to him, perplexed.

"My dad left because of me, too."

I shake my head. "No, I mean it literally. I'm the only reason they broke up. It was completely my fault. She was on my side, he wasn't. She gave up her career, her home, her marriage, all of it, just to get me the fuck out of there."

Sam stops at another red light and turns his whole body toward me. He licks his bottom lip, unwittingly distracting me. He has fascinating lips. Full. Pink. I blink a few times to stop these wayward thoughts about someone who is supposed to be my friend.

"The last time my dad hit my mom, he broke her nose. I was thirteen. Big for my age. For the first time, I hit him back. A lot. And then I told him to pack his shit and to leave, and if he ever came back the whole town would know what a piece of shit he was, including the cops." Sam's voice is deathly quiet. "So yeah, he left because of me. I'm the reason they got divorced."

I swallow nervously. I'm struck by Sam's confession that his father was physically abusive to his mom. Elaine seems so normal, so put together. I would never have pegged her for a victim. It also kind of explains a little more about Bits. Her seeking out an older guy to date, and her extreme reaction when he abandoned her. God, it all must have been so hard on her. And on Sam, too. I wonder how many times he had to witness his own father hurt his mom, and he was only a child.

"I'm so sorry," I murmur.

Sam shakes his head. "Don't be. We're better off without him," he echoes my own words back to me.

I nod. I'm still reeling from the fact that Sam is confiding in me. I've spent so much time feeling like I was a burden to him, and wondering what he's getting out of this friendship at all. Like when he told me about Bits, this confession about his father gives me a chance to be there for him. To give something back to him.

"Can I ask you something, Ror?" he asks quietly. I look at him warily, but nod. "Did your dad... hurt you?"

I take a deep breath and shake my head. "Not in the way you're thinking."

"How then?"

I'm silent for a few moments. The car is in park, in the middle of the street, empty on a weeknight. "He didn't protect me. He didn't help me. He blamed me..."

"Didn't protect you from who, Rory? Blamed you for what?"

I glare at Sam. I don't know how we got here. He knows so much, but he also knows nothing at all, and I'm not sure I want him to know. Once he does, he'll look at me differently, that's a fact. So what if he's already deduced that I'm a victim of something? He probably thinks someone hit me, like his dad did to his mom. And I think it'd be best to let him think that.

"Calculus," I whisper, blinking through the blur of welled tears. Sam looks hurt, and I don't know if he's upset that I still won't confide in him or upset for me.

Suddenly the sound of a car horn blares from behind us. The light has turned green and we didn't notice. Wordlessly, Sam shifts gears and resumes driving me home.

When he pulls up in front of my house, the front door is open and my mother is standing in the open doorway. She may trust Sam to drive me home, but she isn't going to give him time alone with me in a parked car, that's for sure.

Sam stops me before I open the passenger door. "I'm sorry, Rory. I don't mean to pry, I just... You know you can talk to me right? If you want to, I mean. You can tell me anything, I won't repeat it, I swear. I just want to be here for you, okay? I care about you."

He stares at me intently as I process his words. They've surprised me, and I don't know why, because I think I already know them to be true. The thing is, I have talked to him. I do talk to him. More than anyone else who isn't my mother or paid to listen to me. And I know I can trust him; I know he hasn't repeated anything I've told him. I know this without him having had to tell me.

I think it's hearing him say he cares about me that's gotten to me. I remember hearing Robin say those same words. I remember wondering exactly what they meant, and believing them simply because he'd spoken them. I'd believed a lot of things simply because Robin said them, not only about his feelings, but about my own. But I'm not the same naive girl I was a year ago. Not even close.

And yet with Sam, the words seem extraneous. His actions have already proven he cares about me - that he's a good friend. And I realize I care about him, too. Very much.

"I know," I finally whisper.

Sam nods once and then I follow his gaze behind me where my mother is waving from the doorway, obviously wondering what's holding us up. Before I know what's happening, Sam has gotten out of the car and walked around to open the passenger door for me. I climb out and am about to tell him goodnight when he starts leading me up the walkway to my house.

"What are you doing?" I breathe.

Sam smiles wryly. "Walking you to your door, of course. You got to meet my mom..."

Oh, Jesus.

Sam holds out his hand to my mother and introduces himself.

"Hi, Mrs. Pine. I'm Sam Caplan, Rory's friend, it's nice to meet you," he says politely. I roll my eyes at his formality.

"Oh, hi. It's Ms. Pine, but you can call me Amy, anyway." She seems a little flustered and I narrow my eyes at her. If I'm not mistaken... is my mother blushing? I look back at Sam and allow myself to really take him in. He really is gorgeous. His midnight blues sparkle in the dim evening light, that incredible dimple ever present with his charming smile. Okay, fine, I don't blame her.

"I hope you consider letting Rory come with us on spring Break," he says, and I throw him a death glare. I haven't even brought this up to my mother yet. My mom's eyebrows practically shoot into her hairline and she turns her gaze on me. Great, here goes nothing...

"I'd be going with Carl and Tina. Sam and his friends are just going too," I explain. My mom doesn't say anything, I can see her turning this over in her head and imagining all of the awful things that could happen, none of them any more awful than the things that have already happened.

"My uncle works in hospitality. He's getting us a great deal on the hotel. Flight, too. It'd be no trouble to include Rory," Sam offers, but my mother is glaring at him with open hostility, any effect of his charm having been obliterated by her concern for her daughter. Sam's smile falters. "She'll be fine. I'll look out for her. I, uh, won't let anything happen," he murmurs, his voice turning hesitant.  

My mother's eyes narrow. "With all due respect, Sam, the last boy who made such promises to my daughter wasn't exactly sincere."

"Mom!" I admonish. "Can we talk about this later?" I hiss. My tone says it all. What the hell is she doing referencing Robin to Sam? She doesn't know he knows anything at all, and really, he doesn't.

The house phone rings and I'm grateful for the interruption.

"Can you grab that, Aurora?" My mother asks, more a directive than a question.

I huff and turn to head back to the kitchen to the nearest landline. "Don't fucking call me that," I mumble under my breath.

"Rory!" my mother chides.

"Sorry," I grumble.

It's my mom's friend, Karen, who's coming to visit tomorrow. She's a talker, and she keeps me on the phone for nearly ten minutes despite my attempts to blow her off. After finally telling her I'd have my mother call her back, she lets me go. I'm surprised when I go to head upstairs and find Sam and my mom still in our modest front hall, talking. I shoot them both a puzzled look and my mother excuses herself.

"What was that about?" I ask Sam.

He shrugs. "I was just trying to soften her up about Miami."

I laugh. "Good luck with that."

"I'll pick you up at 8:10."

"Okay."

And with that, he turns and leaves.

I close and lock the door, ensuring the deadbolt is tightly secure. Not a minute later, my mother calls me into the living room where she's watching The Daily Show and going over a legal brief.

"So what is this about Miami? You haven't even mentioned it..."

"What were you and Sam talking about?" I counter.

She considers me a moment. "How much does he know?" she asks.

I don't say anything.

"Rory?"

"More now that you said that thing about the last boy who made me promises."

My mom sighs. "I'm sorry, Rory. I was just thrown by the whole spring break thing, and him saying he'd look out for you. And, by the way, you failed to mention your new friend was a bonafide supermodel. A warning might have been expedient, you know."

I roll my eyes. "What did you say to him?" I press, worried now.  

She shakes her head. "It's not what I said, it's what he said..."

I give her a look to urge her on, and she does.

"He told me about his sister. That she went through a tough time, too. Then he said that he doesn't really know any details about what happened with you, but he knows you've been hurt, but that you're doing better than you realize. He insisted that you can handle going away with your friends, and that he would look out for you since he's used to looking out for his sister. He seemed so sincere... He said that obviously someone betrayed you, and me too, but that we can trust him. That he cares about you."

I sit down on the sofa, dumbstruck. "He saw me have a panic attack my first day of school."

"You never told me that," my mother accuses.

"Then I slapped him when I thought he was hitting on me. At a party. But he was just... looking out for me. And I accused him of tricking me into being alone with him in the library. And I had another attack, but he stopped it."

"He stopped it? What are you talking about? You mean your medicine stopped it," she corrects me, but I shake my head.

"No. Sam said I didn't need a pill, and he just... hugged me. Until I calmed down. And I did. I was... fine."

"You were alone with him?" my mother asks, eyes alight with both concern and hope.

I nod. "A few times now. He's my friend. He's not gonna hurt me," I murmur, realizing how fervently I believe it.

My mom sighs. "Okay, Rory. Why don't you go to bed. We'll talk about this Miami thing tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."