FOUR

 

P R E S E N T   D A Y

 

I CLIMB INTO the passenger seat of Carl's Audi. She tells me that Tina is already at the party and we'll meet her there. I look at the clock on her dashboard and estimate that I'll need to kill about three hours before Mom goes to bed and I can sneak back home.

When we arrive, Tucker hands us both red plastic cups and points us to the keg, but I set mine down on the first flat surface I can find. I haven't taken a pill today, but I still don't really like to drink. Tina and Andrew are laughing and talking with a group of people and Carl goes off to join them while I hang back a few feet from the crowd. I watch as a minute later Tuck jogs over, slings his arm around Carl and plants an exaggerated wet kiss on her cheek. She playfully pushes him away, but it's clear she doesn't mean it. Everyone looks so happy and carefree... normal.

I don't belong here.

"Having fun?"

I startle but catch myself quickly. Somehow I recognize Sam's voice instantly, and his tone tells me he can tell just how much fun I'm having.

"Didn't mean to sneak up on you."

I shrug. "Tons," I murmur, unenthused. "You?"

"A blast." He matches my level of excitement. "Can I get you a drink?" he offers.

"I don't really drink."

"How about some water?"

"I- uh-"

He hands me his unopened bottle of Poland Spring, and my lips part to thank him, but for some reason I stay silent.

"You don't seem to want to be here," he observes.

I frown. He's right, I don't, but it's rude of him to point it out, isn't it?

"Neither do you," I counter. Sam smiles, and it's an unexpectedly wistful smile. I'm surprised by it. I'd expect something more cocky from such a gorgeous, confident guy.

"Touché... I have a lot on my mind."  

If he expects me to ask him about it, he's going to be disappointed. Even though I find that I am interested to know what's plaguing the mind of this beautiful boy, I worry that if I ask about his problems, then he'll have the right to ask about mine. But he doesn't give me a chance to ask, and I think maybe he didn't want me to after all - maybe he didn't even mean to say it.

"You wanna go for a walk?" he asks, nodding in the direction of the open grassy area that leads to what appears to be a pond.

Is he seriously hitting on me?

He doesn't even know me, and the one thing he does know is that I obviously have issues. He probably thinks  the crazy ones are easy. My eyes narrow. I straighten my shoulders indignantly and square my stance. False confidence all the way.

"No. I don't want to go for a fucking walk. I'm not gonna fuck you, or hook up with you in any way. Or anyone else for that matter. Spread the fucking word," I growl. My throat is suddenly desert-dry, so I take a swig from his water bottle to soothe it, praying it doesn't betray my anxiety.

Sam stares at me like I've just grown another head, so I turn and stomp away from the hordes of people, toward the pond, marching in the exact direction I just insisted I did not want to go. My heart pounds mercilessly, but this isn't panic, this is anger.

Ugh! Guys! They're all the fucking same.

"Hey!" Sam calls after me.

Can't he just take no for an answer?

He catches up to me and his unexpected grip scorches the skin of my arm like wildfire.

I don't think. I wrench out of his hold, turn, and smack him across his face. "Don't touch me!" I hiss. "Don't ever touch me!" We're now far enough away from the crowd that no one notices us, but if I scream, they'll hear me.

Sam's fingers caress his cheek where my palm made contact, eyes wide and round.

"What the fuck is your problem, Rory?! I wasn't fucking hitting on you!" He rubs his reddened cheek again. "Damn it!"

He wasn't hitting on me?

My boiling blood starts to simmer and shame floods my veins. All of a sudden I can't for the life of me remember what made me so certain his invitation for a walk was code for a hook-up - what made me think he'd want me that way at all. God, if he didn't already think I was crazy...

Damn it, Rory, don't panic.

Sam is glaring at me, but something in my mortified expression must warrant pity, because he sucks in a deep breath and I can sense his anger begin to dissipate.

"I was... you just didn't seem like you were up for a party. I thought you'd want to get away from all those people." He gestures to the crowds, now off some distance, and shoves his hand through his messy chocolate locks in frustration. "I wasn't trying to fuck you. I realize that we don't know each other very well, but what about me that you know so far, exactly, makes you think I'm the kind of guy who would lure you down to a lake, lay you down on the dirty ground, and have sex with you with a hundred of our friends not fifty yards away?"

I swallow anxiously. I've offended him. Moisture pricks the back of my eyes and I will it to stay put. It's beyond reason how much I've humiliated myself in front of this guy in just one week.

"I-" I choke back what threatens to be a sob, close my eyes, and silently count back from ten in double time. When I open them again, I'm greeted by his expectant midnight blue gaze. "I'm so sorry," I breathe.

Sam exhales sharply, his fingers raking that familiar path through his hair . "Look, I shouldn't have grabbed your arm like that. I wasn't thinking," he murmurs. Now he's apologizing and I'm more than certain he has nothing to be sorry for.

"Not just for slapping you." Oh God, I freaking hit him! "God, but I am so sorry for that. But I'm sorry for assuming- I wasn't thinking. I..." I pause and look away. "I don't know what's wrong with me." It's a lie. I know exactly what's wrong with me.  

Sam's expression warms, and it's not full of pity either - it's... compassion. Empathy.

He sighs. "There's nothing wrong with you, Rory."

I look away again, anywhere but at the deep blue oceans that unnerve me so. They seem to know more about me than they should. "Sure there isn't," I mutter bitterly under my breath.

Sam takes an abrupt step so he's directly in front of me, silently demanding eye contact. His arm twitches, like he wants to touch me but thinks better of it.

"There's. Nothing. Wrong. With. You." He glares at me like he can convince me of this with just a look.

Everything in my gut screams that he's a good guy. Like Cam. But if there's anyone whose instincts can't be trusted when it comes to guys, it's me. I was even wrong about Cam. I thought I knew everything about him. But he was keeping his secrets, too.

But Sam saw me freak out. He knows I have issues, but no one else here does. Which means he's kept my secret. Otherwise it would have been all over the school in a heartbeat. That's got to count for something.

"Sam, you... thank you. I mean it, but you know that's not true. And I know you didn't tell anyone what happened my first day. When I..." I trail off and shake my head. He doesn't need a recap, he was there. "Thank you for that. You've been nothin' but nice to me. There's nothin' about you that would make me think anything bad about you," I say meaningfully, answering his original question. "Except that you're a guy," I add quietly.

Sam looks sad for a moment, but offers me a weak smile anyway. "I was just hoping we could be friends. Just friends." He covers his mouth and whispers conspiratorially, "no public fucking on the grass outside of parties. I promise Not even if you beg."

I smile, but it's a wistful smile, because I could never be Sam's friend, even if something in my bones really wishes otherwise. But I no longer believe that guys and girls can really be just friends, and I'm too attracted to him to even try. I could never fully trust him, not really, and I could never trust myself with him.

"Why would you even want to be my friend?" I ask. Because really, if I were him I'd have fled screaming in the opposite direction.

He considers me a moment. "I don't know, Ror, you just seem... real." He shrugs. Something about the way he says "Ror" reminds me of Cam, and the memory of our friendship cuts me so deeply I wince.

"I wish I could be your friend, Sam," I murmur.

His eyes are full of some unfathomable emotion, and I wonder how this conversation has grown so intimate. We barely know each other. When Sam speaks again his voice is so low it's practically a whisper. "Who hurt you, Rory?"

I tell him the truth, matching his tone - barely audible. "Everyone."

He looks back at me, bemused. In my peripheral I catch a girl stalking over to where we're standing. Belatedly I realize it's that girl - Queen Bee - Chelsea. Sam follows my gaze and notices her too, and I can't tell if he's relieved or disappointed by her arrival. But either way the spell is broken, and suddenly it feels like we're standing too close, so I take a step back.

"There you are!" Chelsea says to Sam, like she's been searching all over for him.

"Here I am," he agrees. He takes her cup and gulps down a healthy sip of beer.

"So I wanted to ask if you're coming Sunday?" Chelsea asks excitedly. It's like I'm not even here, which would be fine if we were with a group of people, but since it's just the three of us, her not acknowledging my existence is just beyond awkward. I'm invisible again.

"Coming...?" Sam's expression remains blank.

"To brunch, silly. Your mom didn't tell you?"

Sam groans like this is an old argument. "Come on, Chel-"

"Cap! Come on, it'll be fun," she whines.

Sam shoots her a skeptical look. "I think you and I have different ideas of what constitutes fun."

Chelsea glares at him a moment before changing tact and smiling again. "Your mom's coming. If you come I'm sure Bits will, too. You know how much she needs to get out, Cap-"

"Alright, Chel, fine, whatever," Sam cuts her off.

"It'll be good for-"

"Have you met Rory?" Sam interrupts again and I don't know if he's saving me from being ignored, or using me as an excuse for a subject change.

Chelsea turns, finally acknowledging that I do, in fact, exist. She looks me up and down before plastering on the fakest smile I have ever witnessed.

"No, I don't believe we've met. New girl, right?" Chelsea says through overly whitened, perfectly straight teeth framed by unnaturally glossy, red lips.

I just nod. She reminds me so much of Lacey with her false enthusiasm.

"So nice to meet you."

I don't say it back. I just say "thanks". Chelsea takes a step closer to Sam and casually slips a hand over his bicep. It's a possessive gesture and he doesn't stop her. Idly I wonder if Carl and Tina were right about their relationship - or lack thereof.    

"So, how do you know Cap?" she asks. She angles her body so she's beside Sam, facing me - as if they're a united front - a unit- facing off against me - the outsider. I doubt he notices, but she's making a point, and I read it loud and clear.

"I, uh, don't really," I murmur, because it's true. I don't know Sam, and I have no intention of battling Miss Possessive over a boy I can't even be friends with, and I'm a little surprised when his brow furrows considering I've just told him as much. "Um, excuse me." I spot Carl with Tina over on the deck, and head straight for them without turning back, leaving Chelsea and Sam to their private conversation.

Sam doesn't seek me out again, and other than accidentally locking eyes with him once later in the evening for barely a moment, I have no other interaction with him. I don't know why he unnerves me. And not in the way other people unnerve me. Other guys. There's no fear. But there's something.

I ask Carl to drive me home around eleven and go right to bed. I pray for a dreamless slumber, but I know instead it will be fitful and riddled with nightmares. it always is.

****

 

The weekend is slow and uneventful. I mostly read and hang out with my mom. On Sunday afternoon I turn down a shopping trip with Carl in favor of therapy. I can't reschedule. I've tried that before as an excuse to avoid the sessions altogether, and they know my maneuvers by now. Though lately I've been more receptive of Dr. Schall, whom my doctor down in Florida referred, I've only been in New York a few weeks and we don't really trust each other just yet. Instead, I show up to my appointment and make arrangements to move my sessions to Thursday evenings so my weekends can be free to spend time with my new friends. Dr. Schall is happy to oblige me, pleased that I'm working my way back into social situations. The road back to normal. Even though Dr. Schall hates that expression. He doesn't believe in normal and he hates when I use the word.

I spend the rest of my Sunday studying calculus and realize I'm even further behind than I thought. Damn I hate calculus.

The next day I ask Mr. Frank about extra help, and he points disinterestedly to the student tutoring sign-up sheet tacked to the bulletin board. I quickly add my name to the list of "tutorees" and hurry off to my next class. When I head out to the parking lot to meet the girls for lunch, Tina and Carl are talking to Andrew and Tuck. Their pack is close by. I see Sam, and he sees me, but he doesn't approach me, doesn't say "hi". I remind myself I told him we couldn't be friends, but for some reason his going out of his way to ignore me stings.

The rest of the week goes by like the last, except Sam still doesn't acknowledge me. When I run into him in the student lot again, I venture a greeting. It's no more than a murmured hello, but he just offers a quick, forced smile, and continues to ignore me.

I try not to sneak glances his way, but it's hard. He's really insanely attractive. I also try not to take offense to the fact that he no longer seems to notice I'm alive, and remind myself that this is want I wanted. To be invisible. But I can't not notice how much Chelsea clings to him whenever possible, and though he doesn't seem to flirt with her or show her anything other than friendly affection, he certainly doesn't push her away. I have no right to be bothered by this, and yet...

It's finally Friday again, and while we eat lunch at the diner, Tina invites us to Andrew's again for a party tonight. Apparently his parents go away most weekends. My parents used to go away every other weekend - taking turns with my dad's brother to stay with their mother, my Nanna Joyce, since the state didn't cover weekend help and her dementia made it impossible to leave her alone. I always stayed with Cam on those weekends, until last year when I stayed at the Forbes'. It wasn't my choice. My boyfriend didn't want me staying with another man, even if things were never like that with Cam and me. We did sleep in bed together back when we were kids, but once we were eleven or so Cam started sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor, giving me the bed. In many ways that bed - that room - it felt more like home to me than my own. My heart is crushed by a wave of regret, and I wince, excusing myself to the bathroom to blink back the sudden rush of tears and count backwards from ten. Three times.

But it works, I calm.

I find myself wondering about Sam and Chelsea's relationship, even though it's in no way my business. It's obvious - at least to me - that she wants more than their friendship. Much more. I think about how unenthusiastic he was about brunch with their families. Or his mom and whoever the hell "Bits" is. It sounds like a freaking pet's name or something.

When I return to our table, Carl is talking about some incident at last week's party that I must have missed. Apparently some girl named Sarah, one of Chelsea's minions, made a move on Sam by making some drunken suggestive offer. He just laughed her off, but Chelsea was not amused. By Monday, rumors were swirling about Sarah and one especially nasty sexually transmitted disease. Carl hedges there's no doubt as to the rumors' source.

"What is it with them?" I ask, unable to rein in my curiosity any longer. "Chelsea and Sam, I mean. You said he wasn't interested in her, but she clearly seems to have some claim on him, and their families know each other, right?" 

"She wishes she had a claim on him," Tina laughs. "But I mean, yeah they're friends. They've always been friends. Cap's mom is tight with Chelsea's parents."

"Just his mom?" I ask.

"Yeah, his dad left when we were in middle school. They're divorced," Carl murmurs.

"Who is, uh, Bits?" Obviously it's someone Sam cares about if his - or her - needing to get out was enough to get Sam to agree to a brunch he was otherwise less than eager to attend.

Tina shrugs. "No idea. Sounds like a cat?"  

"No, Bits is Beth. Cap calls her Bits. It's like a childhood nickname or something," Carl explains.

"Oh, right," Tina replies, nodding with some kind of understanding.

I look back and forth between the two of them. "And Beth is...?"

"Cap's kid sister."

Oh. I didn't know Sam had a sister. But then, why would I? We're not even friends. "Does she go to school with us?" I ask.

Carl shakes her head. "Not anymore. She's a sophomore, but she's homeschooled now."

Why would she be home schooled? And why am I so pathetically interested in this guy? I don't even freaking know him. I want to ask more questions, but the subject has already shifted to Tina and Andrew and how excited she is to stay over his place this weekend while his parents are away. Apparently they've been sleeping together for a while, but haven't actually slept together. They've had plenty of sex, but she's always gone home. It seems the physical side of their relationship preceded the emotional side, but now they're catching up. Tina, it would appear, is in love. I offer a cursory smile.

I could not feel more disconnected from the conversation. How common can finding actual true love in high school really be? If there even is such a thing. I never loved my ex, but that didn't stop me from thinking I might, and the one person I was sure I really did love, was gone before I even had a chance to explore it.  Sometimes I like to think it would have worked out. Others, my new cynical self is too quick to shoot down those kinds of sentimental fantasies. It can't change anything anyway, what's done is done. The truth is my only examples of "love" are pitiful excuses for the concept. My parents' romance obviously didn't last. Even before I caused their divorce, they never matched the people described in the college love story I was told.

I wonder if Tina is sleeping with Andrew because she thinks she's supposed to. The way she talks about sex, it would seem like she really enjoys it. I wonder if she makes it sound that way because she thinks she's supposed to. If she says she loves him because she wants it to be true. In public they're always affectionate, and she does appear happy. But I know better than anyone, just because they seem like some golden couple, doesn't mean it's true. The way they act in public probably has little to do with what happens behind closed doors.

Or maybe they really are in love and she really does enjoy their sex life. What would I know about it anyway? I used to think I was just a late bloomer, but then I was convinced there was always something wrong with me. I'd said I just wasn't ready, but I was seventeen at the time, and everyone else was ready. By the time I had my first experience with actual desire, it was overshadowed by all the bad, and then gone in the blink of an eye.

Maybe that's why Sam unnerves me so much. Because he's not only attractive - Robin was attractive, Cam was attractive - but Sam, I'm attracted to him. I'm starting to think that maybe I was right the first time around - that I just wasn't ready. That I should have just trusted myself. I try to think of things I could have done differently, what I could have changed. I play this game all too often, but Dr. Schall says it's a waste of time. He says my focus should be on the future - on future relationships. But what kind of relationship could I possibly have now? I can't even allow someone to invite me to go for a walk without accusing them of trying to seduce me into God even knows what. And who would want that? Yeah, some future I have to look forward to.