THREE

 

S E P T E M B E R,  L A S T   Y E A R

 

I AM LITERALLY shaking with excitement. Finally, finally, it's junior year. I am officially an upperclassman. Everything changed this past summer. I was never the kind of girl who had a lot of girl friends. As a kid, I was more of a tomboy. I had little interest in painting my nails or attending slumber parties. Instead I was always more likely to seek out a street game of kickball or a pickup game of basketball at Cam's driveway hoop. Cam's been my best friend since his family moved next door when we were both three, and we've been inseparable ever since.

It wasn't all that strange when I was a kid. By the time I'd started high school, it was a little unorthodox that I hung out with mostly guys, but it was what it was. I was mostly carefree and still saw the guys as just my friends, and not romantic interests. Soon enough, though, I started to feel like I was missing out on something. Cam's a great friend - the best - and I love him, truly, but while we mostly hung around listening to music or playing video games, I increasingly started to wonder if I shouldn't be at the mall or just doing something to bond with girls my age. It wasn't as if I didn't know them. Linton is a small town; we've all known each other our whole lives. And it wasn't like I was an outcast or anything. Everyone was always nice enough to me, even the girls who weren't all that nice in general.

Then, this past summer, after passing the lifeguard test, I got a job at the  pool. It gets hot as hell in Linton during the summer, and we're far enough from the gulf that the ocean breeze dies miles before it's of any use to us. Most of us spend our time either at the lake, or if our parents can afford a membership, the pool at the country club.

I've known Lacey Forbes forever. Of course, everyone in Linton knows her and her family. She and her friends, Courtney, Emmers, and Stella, are the closest thing Linton has to a "popular clique", and her dad, who's the town's mayor, has been friends with mine since they were kids. So when Lacey approached me at the pool in July, I saw it as my chance to make some girl friends - to work on becoming less of a tomboy and more of a normal girl. Lacey had her own motivation.                         

I've always been considered pretty enough in our small town, but when a girl hits about fourteen, what makes her attractive has less to do with her face, and more to do with how fast she develops. This new rating system, along with my being seen as one of the guys, always had me left off any "hot" lists. Until now. Sometime at the end of the last school year, I sprouted breasts. Not especially big ones, but I was just happy not to be flat as a washboard anymore, and according to Cam, who grimaced when he reported it, my necessary quota for breast size was significantly lower due to my attractive face. Again, Cam's words, not mine. According to the guys in my grade - guys who had been my best friends but now suddenly saw me as a sexual object - my large B's were equivalent to double D's on a plain girl. This news sent me into a fit of laughter, and caused Cam to rub his face red with his palms. He's like a brother to me, and can't stand it when his friends - our friends - talk about me like that. But it's become clear to the both of us over the past year that this is the way of things, and we'd both have to get used to it.

The truth is I know Lacey's sudden interest in me wasn't random. Popular girls like to keep girls that are considered pretty as close as possible. I would be an ally instead of competition. That, coupled with the fact that I'm best friends with Cam and the other desirable guys in our grade, made a friendship with me appealing, and inducting me into her clique would be mutually beneficial. Lacey has a not-so-secret crush on Cam, and though Cam has hooked up with her twice, he isn't a relationship kind of guy. Lacey is just one of many to him. As many as there are in Linton anyway. And fortunately, it's common knowledge that my friendship with Cam is one hundred percent platonic, otherwise, Lacey may have chosen me as a target instead of an ally.

But it doesn't really matter to me. So what if she's basically using me? I'm doing the same to fulfill my curiosity about what it would be like to have girl friends, and so far it's going great.

We hung out a lot over the summer, and though I still spend a lot of my time with Cam and the guys, I've become pretty tight with Lacey and the girls, too.

Now that the first week of junior year is over, Lacey is having the girls over to celebrate. It's the first time I'm sleeping over her house, but she's not the reason I'm excited.

Lacey's older brother is a senior. Not just a senior, but the senior. Quarterback of the football team, the town's golden boy - stunningly handsome, and popular. For years I've admired him from afar - from the bleachers at his football games, from the lifeguard chair at the pool - but since I've befriended Lacey, I've had opportunity to admire him from a little closer. Though he wasn't around the house much when I was over at Lacey's this summer - too popular with far too full a social calendar - tonight I know I'll get a glimpse. He can't stay away from his own house all night.

My dad drops me off around dinner time. He couldn't be more pleased with my new friendship. He and Mayor Forbes golf every Sunday, and not only have they been friends since childhood, but with my dad being the town's district attorney, they have professional dealings as well. No doubt our families would have spent a lot of time together if my mother could stand Lacey's.

Cindy Forbes is everything my mother can't stand about small southern towns. Self-important, self-absorbed, and status obsessed. Her haughty attitude irked my mother at their first meeting almost twenty years ago and my mother has been making excuses to avoid associating with her ever since.

Even after all this time my mother is still a fish out of water here in Linton, but she's refused to adapt, forcing her gills to process oxygen instead of growing a pair of lungs. She grew up on Long Island and met my father at NYU when she was an undergrad and he was in law school. They fell instantly in love, so the story goes, and when they each graduated, my mother agreed to accompany my father back to his hometown where they got married and she attended law school at the University of Florida in Gainesville. She practices as a public defender and mostly volunteers her services, much to my father's chagrin, being the DA and all. But whenever my dad tries to pressure my mom to do anything she doesn't agree with, she reminds him that she'd made the ultimate sacrifice: giving up New York for Linton.

Linton is all I've ever known, so though I keep my opinion to myself - not that anyone's ever asked me - I'm stuck somewhere between understanding Mom's disdain for the frivolity of what our community considers important - social statuses, golf and football - and my father's desire to play the game. After all, what's so wrong with wanting to be popular? With wanting friends?

"Have fun, Sleepin' Beauty," my dad says as I climb out of the passenger seat with a wave. He calls me that when he's pleased with me, and Aurora when he's not. Never Rory. My parents couldn't agree on a name when I was born, and it'd been three days before the maternity nurse mentioned something about how I was the best sleeper in the nursery, and my father took to calling me Sleeping Beauty. That's how they decided to name me after the fairy tale princess.

Dad drives off before I'm halfway up the Forbes' flagstone walkway. Our house isn't exactly small, but the Forbes'  Greek revival is positively enormous, with forest green storm shutters and a wraparound porch accented with dramatic palatial columns. The lawns are immaculately manicured, as are the rose bushes that line the walkway. It isn't just a house, it's a statement. We are better than you are. And I suppose it's not untrue. A mayor, his perfect blond botoxed wife, a football star, and Little Miss Popular. Some family. Mayor Forbes must be proud.

It's no secret my dad had wanted a son. Instead he got Sleeping Beauty. Mom couldn't have any more kids - something about scar tissue from the C section that brought me into this world, and though he'd never say so, I know my dad resents me not only for being a girl, but for ruining his chance at fathering any future sons. When I was younger I was as much a son as any girl could be, but the older I got, the further my father and I grew apart . It was easy enough to please him when all I wanted to do was to throw a baseball around the yard with him and Cam, but now... he barely even looks at me.

Only when I mention something about spending time with Lacey does he even ask about my day, about my life. He's always asking Mayor Forbes - or Bobby as Dad calls him - about his son. He goes to the football games - everyone in town does - and cheers for the quarterback as if he were his own. And Mayor Forbes is all too happy to share the glory. So when I asked my dad for a ride here for the sleepover since my jeep is being serviced, he spoke to me for the first time all week. Idly I wonder who golden-boy quarterback Robin Forbes' biggest fan is - his dad, or mine. Or maybe me. And every other girl in town.

I'm only a few steps from the front door when a deep, masculine voice skates over to my spot on the porch. I pause and peek sideways as Robin comes jogging around from the side door.

"Dude I'm on my way, chill out. She'll wait on me, don't you worry," he says cockily into his cell phone, and I silently agree that whomever she is will certainly wait on him. I sure would.

He notices my presence and changes directions, and my heart takes off down a runway ready for flight as my body freezes in place.

"I'll call you back, bro," Robin murmurs, slides his phone into the pocket of his jeans, and slows to a stop a few feet in front of me.

I swallow nervously as his gaze slowly and purposefully trails me from head to toe and back again as if my cutoff shorts and tank top are something special.

"Rory." My name slides off his tongue like he's said it a thousand times, his mouth spreading into a grin,  inexplicably pleased.  

My breath catches in the net of surprise lodged about halfway down my throat."H- Hi," I stutter like an inexperienced little girl rendered dumb by a cute boy. Which, of course, I am.

"You sure look nice," Robin drawls like the southern gentleman he's been raised to be, and I blush scarlet. He's looking at me expectantly, and I realize he might be wondering what the hell I'm doing at his house.

"I... I'm here for Lacey," I mutter hastily.

"Well that's disappointin', but I figured as much. Didn't realize you girls had gotten so close."

I shrug. Wait... did he just say he was disappointed that I was here for Lacey? "Um, yeah, I guess. She's just havin' a bunch of us over," I explain.

"Well I knew that, but I didn't know the guest list extended to the prettiest girl in school. I mighta cancelled my plans," he winks, exaggerating his southern accent in a way I've overheard him do when he was flirting with girls like Maddie Stern. Pretty girls. Popular girls.

Holy shit. Is Robin Forbes actually flirting with me?

Embarrassingly, it takes me a second to even realize he means me, which he notices. He smirks when I blush again, and I look down, away from his hazel eyes positively gleaming with mirth. He's flirting with me, but I have no idea how to flirt. I've spent my whole life with boys and no one's ever flirted with me. Maybe if Robin wasn't so handsome, his boyish good looks beyond distracting, I'd be able to come up with some witty response.

"I am not," I say instead, meaning to call him on his bullshit, but sounding more like I'm back in elementary school.

I gasp when his toned arm reaches out, and he pushes a wayward strand of hair out of my eyes, tucking it carefully behind my ear.

"Oh, but you are, Miss Rory Pine. And everyone knows it. In fact, my boys and I were just talkin' about it after practice yesterday. Pissed off my best wide receiver some, too," he half-smirks. His best wide receiver is Cam, and if Cam got pissed off, then whatever was said wasn't exactly innocent. "Now, he tells me you're just his friend, but that doesn't ring true to me."

What? "What do you mean? Of course I'm just his friend, why wouldn't that be true?" I ask, completely confused. This boy is the most handsome boy in town, in the whole damned county probably. Everyone knows who he is. He's a freaking football star who will undoubtedly ride a scholarship to Gainesville, and from what my dad says, will go pro after that. He gets any girl he wants with the snap of his finger, and he's never said two words to me. That made sense. Now, here he is, telling me I'm pretty and questioning my relationship with Cam. This makes no sense whatsoever.

"Why wouldn't that be true? Well, sweet Miss Rory," he says, clearly making fun of my naivety, but I can't take offense, because it's true - I am naive. "Your buddy Cameron Foster is a bit of a ladies' man, from what I hear. They sure are drawn to him." Robin is right. Cam's good looking as hell. He’s one of those guys who never went through an awkward phase, and I might resent him for it if he weren’t my closest friend in the world. Girls have always been attracted to his laid back personality, but he's a total player. He has no problem getting any girl he wants to hook up on his terms, but the description is just as fitting for Robin, perhaps more so. Robin's a senior, so he's got a year on Cam and me, but even so, Robin is a freaking magnet for pretty girls. But he's never noticed me before, I don't think, and I'm surprised he's even aware of how much I hang out with Cam.

"The same could be said about you," I hedge, finally finding my wits.

Robin unleashes his full-on, panty-dropping smile and runs his fingers through his dirty blonde hair, a little brighter now from months of summer sun. God, he's handsome. And he knows it too. "Well, what do you think people would say if I had the pleasure of spending as much time with the prettiest girl in school as Foster does? Do you think they'd believe me if I said we were only friends?" That's the second time he's called me that. Hearing something like that, from him, it's alien enough that a part of me still thinks he may just be teasing me.

"If y'all had grown up together and were like brother and sister, then, yeah, I'd believe it. And, of course, the prettiest girl in school is Maddie Stern, everyone knows that, and from what I understand you do spend quite a deal of time with her," I reply, vaguely wondering where this courage is coming from. Maddie is a senior like Robin, homecoming queen, beauty pageant winner extraordinaire, and everyone knows she's dated Robin on and off for years. If you could call blowjobs in the locker room dating.

"Correction Miss Rory, Maddie was the prettiest girl in school, and maybe I wouldn't have to spend so much time with her if you'd do the honor of lettin' me take you out," he drawls, as if him asking me out is the most normal thing in the world.

My wits go back into hiding and I swallow audibly. I open my mouth to speak, but my words lodge behind a lump of nerves.

Robin smirks with satisfaction. "Well I'll let you think about that a bit. Why don't you be a good girl and make sure they put you up in the guest room upstairs tonight. I'll come by later for my answer."

I'm still processing his words as he winks at me before he turns on his heel and saunters to his BMW M3 convertible, folding his tall, lean frame into the driver's seat and peeling out of his family's long drive.

It's minutes before I'm composed enough to ring the doorbell and enter the Forbes' mansion. Lacey and the girls are excited about my arrival, or so they portray. I don't mention my encounter with her brother. I'm not even sure if I imagined it or not. I spend most of the evening of movies and gossip quietly trying to work out what the hell happened on that porch. Was he serious about asking me out? Do I want to go out with him? He makes me feel... nervous. He's real attractive, but I have no experience with this. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel, how I'm supposed to know if I even like him or not. I don't even know him.

Cam is the only person I'd ever feel comfortable talking to about anything this personal, but here I am, stuck in a gaggle of girls, talking about nothing real, nothing that matters. I'm weighed with loneliness, and just as I'm thinking how much I miss my best friend right now, my phone buzzes with an incoming text. Few other than the people currently in this room text me, so I know it's Cam before I even pick up my phone.

You good Rory girl?

I smile. Cam knows me so well that sometimes it's like we're the same person. Only he would think to check on me right now. Only he would know that a slumber party with a bunch of chicks who are supposed to be my new best friends isn't the most comfortable situation for me.

Yep, u got a minute?

I know he's out with Missy Potter. I know he has sex with her- but not only her. And she seems just fine with that.

I do want to talk to him, but I don't want to interrupt anything. I don't want our friendship to be a burden to him. Ever. And if he's busy with a girl, and takes my call anyway, it wouldn't be the first time he's bailed on someone else because he thought I needed him.

For you? Always. Give me 5, I'll call u.

That means he is busy. If he wasn't, my phone would already be ringing.

Don't worry about it, let's talk tomorrow.

I'll figure this Robin thing out myself. There's a good chance he was joking, anyway. I wouldn't have bothered Cam at all, except if Robin wasn't joking, then he might actually come for that answer tonight.

Not for the first time I feel overly dependent on Cam, and I feel guilty. Maybe I can just sleep in Lacey's room like the rest of the girls and avoid the whole thing. What excuse would I even have to stay in the guest room anyway? I'm about to slip my phone back into my bag when it starts vibrating. Cam.

"Hey I told you not to worry about it," I answer, "And it hasn't even been five minutes."

"Stop, Ror. If you didn't need to talk you wouldn't have asked. Out with it," he orders, straight to the point as ever.

"Those girls treatin' you good?"

"Yeah, they're fine. I'm fine," I insist. "Get back to Missy, I'll call you in the mornin'."

"Missy can wait. Don't you worry about me, Rory girl. What do ya need? If Lacey fucks with you just tell me, I swear to God-"

"Cam!" I cut him off. I'm not three feet from Lacey and I peek over at her, wondering if she could hear him through my phone. She looks at me and her eyes brighten at hearing Cam's name. I excuse myself out the french doors that lead to the side of the house as Lacey calls for me to tell Cam that she says "hi". Once on the porch, I forward her greeting.

"Yeah, yeah, hi back, or whatever," is his response. I'll dress it up when I pass it on to Lacey. "So what's up Ror? You need me to pick you up?"

"No, Cam, I'm fine, really." I take a deep breath. "Okay. I ran into Robin Forbes when I got here tonight," I begin.

"He say somethin' wrong to you?" Cam's voice is low and deathly serious, the threat implicit.

"No! Jeez, Cam, why do you always assume someone is mistreatin' me? Am I such a goddamned victim?"

"Nah, Rory girl, you're no victim, but you are beautiful and innocent and Robin Forbes doesn't do innocent. What'd he say to you?"

"He, uh... he asked to take me out," I murmur softly, suddenly unsure of what Cam's reaction will be. He's always been so damn protective of me. There's a long pause and for a moment I think the call got dropped, before Cam lets out a long, resigned sigh. "Cam?"

"I was afraid a' this." Another sigh. "Damn, Rory girl, what'd you say?"

"I... said nothin'. I stood there like a stupid deer in headlights!" I grumble.

Cam chuckles. It's a comforting sound, reminding me of childhood, of home. "Well you musta said somethin'. Was he a gentleman about it?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess. He was... sweet. Kinda. I don't know. But no. I really said nothin'. When I couldn't make myself talk he just smiled and told me to think about it. That he'd come by for my answer later tonight." I don't mention that he instructed me to sleep alone in the guest room. I know what Cam will make of that, and vaguely I wonder why it's not sending up red flags for me.

"Well, don't hold out on me, what's your answer gonna be? Don't keep me waitin', Rory girl, I ain't him."

"Of course you're not, Cam. I... don't know. That's why I called you! What do I do? What do I say?" I'm desperate, completely out of my comfort zone.

"Say no," Cam says immediately, the big brother in him shining through.

"Cam," I whine.

He sighs again. "Well, hell, Ror. You're the one who's gonna have to make this call. Guys are gonna ask you out. You're too damn adorable for your own good. I was worried about this the other day. The seniors were talkin'. Sayin' how hot you've gotten. Askin' me all about you, and about you and me. They aint gonna stop askin', and I can't hold them off forever. Forbes ain't a bad guy, but you know he gets around. You ain't that kinda girl."

"Well I know I ain't that kinda girl. But surely Robin must know that, right? I mean, why would he even wanna go out with me?"

Cam laughs again. "Why would he wanna go out with you? Seriously Rory girl?" He lets out another frustrated sigh. "Whatever, it's probably best you keep on not knowin' what you got goin' on. But Forbes sure has noticed, along with the rest of the damn town. The fact that he must know how inexperienced you are is the only reason I believe his intentions might be alright. But that doesn't mean you gotta go out with him. That's your choice... What do you want, Ror? Do you wanna go out with him?"  

Cam asks the million dollar question. And the truth is, I have no idea. I was much more comfortable admiring him from afar - when he was unattainable. And I know I should want to go out with him, every other girl sure does... and maybe I do, too. I think I'm just so thrown off and nervous that I can't quite get a grip on how I feel about it. But how do you decide if you like someone if you don't even know them? I suppose that is what dating is for - to get to know them.

"I suppose I'm not sure, Cam, can't you just decide for me?" I groan. He always makes decisions for me when I can't decide something, which is pretty often. But this is different than choosing my lunch order.

"I did, remember? I said 'no'. You didn't like that answer," he reminds me.

Lacey calls me from the living room and I realize I should get back to the girls. I tell Cam I'll call him tomorrow and sarcastically thank him for his "help".

The rest of the evening flies by and I'm no closer to knowing what the hell to do about Robin when Lacey starts telling us where we're all sleeping, which I'd thought would all be in her room. Courtney is sleeping in Lacey's bed with her, and Emmers and Stella will sleep on the pullout in the den. I have a choice between an air mattress in Lacey's room or the guest room on the third floor. She explains that it's the only room on the third floor so I may not want to be alone up there. Without thinking too hard, I tell her I don't mind, and climb the second staircase to the converted attic room.

Everyone's gone to bed, but I can't sleep. The guest room up here is lonely, like Lacey warned, but it is lovely. There's a canopy bed with a soft cream quilt that matches the gauzy drapes. The queen size mattress is comfortable, but still, I can't sleep. I can't stop wondering if Robin was joking or not about coming up here for my answer, or  if he was joking about asking me out in the first place. When I glance at the mahogany wall clock and see it's almost 1:00 am, I realize he wasn't serious, or maybe he changed his mind. Part of me is relieved, but another part is disappointed, and I drift off to sleep wondering why I'm the only girl in my grade that's never even been kissed, let alone the only virgin in my group of new girlfriends.

****

 

I'm startled out of sleep by a bang and a muttered curse.

"Shit."

I open my eyes, but it's too dark to see the door, which I'm pretty sure has just slammed shut.

I lean up onto my elbows.

"Who's there?" I ask trepidatiously as the figure approaches my bed.

"Well, it's just me a' course. I told you I'd come, I'll be needin' that answer now, sweetheart," Robin drawls the slight slur to his accent tells me he's been drinking.

He sits down on the bed as I sit up.

"You scared me," I whisper.

Robin reaches out and brushes my hair out of my face, pushing a chunk of it over my shoulder. I must look like such a mess. "Well now I see why that daddy a' yours calls you Sleepin' Beauty." He grins sloppily and it’s somehow incredibly endearing. But I can smell the beers he's drunk tonight. And perfume. A woman's perfume.

I blush at his compliment, grateful that it's too dark for him to notice as a pang of disappointment stabs deep in my gut. I wonder where it came from. I have no right to be jealous of the owner of the perfume, but part of me wonders why he's bothering to ask me out at all when he obviously has some other girl ready and willing to do whatever is required to get her scent to cling to him so fervently.

"Didn't mean to scare you, but I can't go to bed, not yet. I'll never fall asleep 'til you agree to let me take you out next Friday."

"Um..." Again, words evade me.

"How about I'll pick you up at seven, and you wear a pretty little dress for me. I'll take you out somewhere nice, and maybe, if I'm real good, you'll give me a nice kiss. How does that sound?" He smiles sincerely, and I think he's trying to ease my nerves by saying he'd only expect a kiss if things go well. The thought warms me and I smile timidly up at him in response. "Don't you worry, Sleepin' Beauty. I know you're a good girl, and I'll treat you right, I promise." He holds up three fingers like a boy scout and I laugh.

"Okay," I murmur, surprising even myself. Robin grins widely in triumph and I can't help but laugh again.

"Well you just made my night," he says excitedly, and I wonder if perfume girl hadn't already made his night before he ever got home. "How about a little preview of that kiss?"

My heart drops. Alluding to a potential kiss if we had a good date is one thing, but now?

I've never been kissed. Ever. Cam once offered to be my first kiss - to teach me, but I'd balked at the idea.

I'm anxious and disappointed until Robin turns his head and points to his cheek. I smile again and press my lips chastely to where he'd just pointed.

Robin presses his index and middle fingers to his own lips and plants a kiss on them before touching them softly to my cheek. It's innocent and sweet, and for the first time, I'm actually excited to go on this date.

"Night Sleepin' Beauty," he whispers, and stands from my bed, and strolls out of the room, closing the door carefully behind him.