"So that sex on school property comment sure sent you running away fast," an unfamiliar male voice slurs suggestively.
My pulse races as I turn around to see Dave leaning back against the wall of the house sipping his beer.
"Just needed some air," I choke out.
He smirks. "So you haven't done it at school yet? You know, I'd be happy to help you remedy that." I don't know if he's teasing or hitting on me, and I don't care.
"Not. Interested," I grit out through my clenched jaw.
"Ah, a good girl. Well I don't usually do the girlfriend thing, but you know, I think I'd be willing to give it a try for a chance at a pretty little thing like-"
"Back off, Dave," Sam's low voice murmurs.
I turn. I didn't hear him come outside and my hands are trembling, all my energy concentrated on counting backwards and taking deep breaths.
I'm relieved not to be alone with Dave, but now I'm alone with two guys. I remind myself that there's a party, or get together anyway, just inside. I remind myself that Sam is my friend. That he's just defended me.
I turn away and silently count backwards again.
"I'm just getting to know the new girl, Cap," Dave slurs lightheartedly.
"Just leave her alone," Sam says quietly, and I peek over at them.
"Oh, sorry man. She yours?" he asks.
Why are they talking about me like I'm not even here? I jump up, angry all of a sudden.
"I ain't his! I ain't anyone's!" I shout, the southern accent I've tried so hard to suppress since I moved here flooding out unbidden.
Dave raises his eyebrows, surprised by my outburst, but it looks like Sam is trying to stifle a smile. Dave looks to Sam, who just shrugs.
"You heard her, she's her own woman. Now back off," he says.
Dave shrugs, turns and heads back inside without another word.
I almost thank Sam for standing up for me, but my gratitude dies in my mouth. Instead, I just sit back down on my step.
"You okay?" Sam asks softly.
"Yeah," I reply quietly. I peek up at him and he seems conflicted.
"You, uh, want me to leave you alone?" he asks. He knows I'm afraid of being alone with him, but for some reason, right now, I'm not. Maybe it's knowing that there's a crowd of people just on the other side of the door.
I shake my head.
"Can I sit?" he asks, nodding at the step I've claimed.
I laugh. He's asking my permission to sit outside at a party at his own friend's house. "Sure, if you want," I shrug, and he folds his long frame to sit on the opposite side of the step, facing me. "Your friends sure are somethin'," I mutter.
"Dave has a, uh, special sense of humor, but he's just flirting. You don't need to worry about him," he offers. I don't say anything and Sam sighs. "They're not gonna stop, you know. You're the shiny, pretty, new girl, and they're all interested."
"Great," I say sarcastically, but inwardly I'm dwelling on the fact that Sam just called me pretty, and I'm surprised that this actually pleases me.
"It might help if they knew your deal. I mean, after last week I mentioned that you're not looking for a hookup, but, you know... they're guys, and you're hot."
I don't point out that Sam, too, is a guy, or ask why he's not included in the group he's mentioning. I do, however, blush at the fact that he's now called me hot, and for some reason - maybe because we've already discussed just being friends - this doesn't bother me. In fact, it just about the opposite of bothers me.
"What do you mean my deal?" I ask, and he shrugs again.
"Like if you're seeing anyone, or if you have a boyfriend back home," he murmurs.
"Would it help if I did?"
Sam laughs. "Dave would probably just see it as a challenge," he admits.
"I don't have anyone back home. No boyfriend, no one at all."
Sam frowns. "You must have friends," he hedges, but I just shake my head.
I look down, staring at the fingers I'm twisting in my lap. I really don't. In fact, next to Carl and Tina, Sam - who I've only just accepted as a friend a matter of hours ago - is my closest friend. I don't know why I've chosen to confide this, frankly it's very embarrassing. There's a long pause, but for some reason it isn't awkward. At least not for me.
"You never said why you were homeschooled," Sam observes. No, he's right, I didn't.
"Same as your sister. Bad breakup," I murmur, stealing Beth's excuse since it's not really a lie, just not nearly the whole story. When I peek over at Sam, he looks distressed, and I blink at him, wondering what I've said wrong.
He rakes his fingers through his hair as if deciding something. "Rory, my sister didn't just have bad breakup. She's been having a tough time for a while now. She was just a kid when my dad left, and this guy she was seeing was older, he graduated last year. When he dumped her she… kind of lost it.”
I don't break eye contact, I'm stunned by how open he's being right now, and I want to be worthy of his confidence.
"She took a bunch of pills last summer. She almost died... She did it on purpose," he whispers.
I blink at him for a moment until I finally find my voice. "That must have been tough on you," I say.
Sam seems surprised by my response. He lets out a short, ironic laugh. "It was tougher on her," he replies. I reach over and put my hand on his arm before I even realize I've moved. He's surprised by my touch, that much is obvious, but he doesn't pull away.
"Still, you obviously care about her. It must've been hard on you, too."
We sit there for a few moments, eyes locked, silent, until finally, Sam sighs.
"Yeah," is all he says.
I pull my arm back and start pulling on a loose thread from my oversized sweater.
"So, a bad breakup, huh?" he prompts.
I just nod.
"Bad like Beth's?" he asks, and I'm not sure exactly what he's asking.
I nod again. "Bad. But I didn't do anything like that," I reply, though there were times I'd considered it.
"Did you love him?" Sam asks.
"Who?" I reply, and Sam smiles.
"The guy who broke up with you."
I shake my head. "No. Not him. And I broke up with him, he just... didn't make it easy on me. And things were complicated. I had this best friend since I was a kid... and then my parents broke up right after... It was just a lot, all at once," I explain, realizing I've explained nothing at all.
Sam doesn't push though. "He was an idiot," he says. "The guy who hurt you."
Now I'm the one with the ironic chuckle. "They all hurt me, Sam. One way or another," I murmur, "but thanks." Sam is just offering platitudes, he's trying to be nice, and I'm dumping my baggage on one of my only three friends.
"What-"
"Can we talk about somethin' else, please?" I ask.
"Just trying to get to know you, Ror," he replies, and again, I'm struck by the sound of the nickname on his tongue, how much it reminds me of Cam, and how conflicted I am by that realization.
"Calculus," I breathe. I surprise Sam with our safe word, but after a second he nods and changes the subject.
"So why do you call me 'Sam'? I mean, everyone else calls me 'Cap', besides my family I mean," he asks.
"You introduced yourself to me as 'Sam'."
His brow furrows, and again I can't help but think he looks adorable when he does that. "Did I?"
I nod. "I can call you 'Cap', if you prefer," I offer, but he shakes his head.
"I think I like that you call me 'Sam'," he replies, but doesn't elaborate.
"Sam it is then."
He smiles. "You know, your accent comes out when you get mad."
"I know."
"I like it. It's... cute."
"Well, kind sir, I'm glad you found it entertainin'," I joke, exaggerating my accent for his benefit, and he lets out a loud, genuine chuckle.
"I do. I like it a lot."
We rejoin the party when Andrew comes to retrieve Sam for his beer pong partner
, and after confirming that Carl can get a ride home with Tuck, I decide to head home, thankful that I drove myself and haven't drunk anything.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Homecoming, Last year
It's crazy how much has changed in a year. I spent last year's homecoming teasing Cam about being Sophomore prince, and making up excuses why I couldn't go to the dance. Now, I'm waiting for Robin to pick me up, and my dad is actually giving me the time of day.
I run my hands down the short skirt of my navy blue dress for the hundredth time, the material so alien to a girl more used to wearing cotton and denim than fancy silks. My brown hair still has some faint strawberry blonde highlights, courtesy of the now-departed summer sun, making the effect a pretty auburn. Pretty. It’s not something I’m used to feeling, but the truth is, pretty is how Robin makes me feel.
Mom has freshened up my makeup for me and lectured me about being responsible for the tenth time since Robin first started taking me out a few weeks ago. We've been on a few dates since then - dinner, movies - all innocent stuff, that all culminated in romantic make-out sessions. But he hasn't pressured me for anything more, and I'm grateful for it. I like him, I really do, but I'm just not ready to move any faster than we already are, and the good news is that Robin seems just fine with that.
It's almost as if my inexperience is part of the reason he likes me, and he's being respectful of it. We haven't talked about being exclusive - Lord knows I'm not about to bring it up, but I don't think he's been seeing anyone else. He certainly hasn't been taking any other girls out for dinners or movies, or I'd have heard about it. Small town and all.
Robin asking me to homecoming was a big deal. Cam goes stag every year. He doesn't want to go with one of his hookup girls, even as friends, for fear of giving them the wrong idea, and since I've always refused his offer to go together as friends, he goes alone. But from what I hear, he usually doesn't leave alone.
Last week I noticed Maddie, who'd attended every homecoming with Robin since their freshmen year, scowling at me in the halls. It was that day, after practice, while I was trying to figure out my algebra homework while waiting for Cam to drive us home, that Robin made a big show of surprising me with pink roses and asking me to go with him.
Now that the excitement of the game is over, my nerves have all but dissipated and I'm just looking forward to dancing with him. We destroyed the visiting team. Robin threw four touchdowns, three of which were caught by Cam, and no one cheered louder than me. Except maybe my dad and Mayor Forbes.
When the game ended it was like a movie - the team lifting the heroic quarterback up on their shoulders to celebrate the resounding win in his last hometown homecoming game. But after just a minute or so, Robin jumped down and his gaze zeroed in to where I was hanging back on the sidelines, just smiling. He made a beeline for me, lifted me up and kissed me hard, right in front of everyone. It was my first public display of affection and it melted me. Robin was proud that he was dating me, and in this monumental moment in his life, it was me he wanted to share it with.
When the doorbell rings, my dad gets to it first, and I obediently hang back as he dotes on Robin and discusses the highlights of the game. Robin thanks him and politely excuses himself from the conversation to greet me. He kisses my knuckles and I blush as Robin tells my dad he won't have me out too late, not that my father cares, before leading me to his car and opening my door for me.
****
The dance is fun, but it turns out Robin doesn't really dance. We mostly hang out and chat with his friends while he keeps a possessive hand on me at all times - around my waist, my shoulders, at the small of my back.
Predictably, he and Maddie are named Homecoming King and Queen, and I clap for him and resign to hang back while the rest of the court is announced and they dance. Cam is announced as Junior prince, and he nonchalantly hops up onto the stage and takes his crown without enthusiasm. I clap even louder.
I'm shocked beyond measure when they announce the Junior Princess and my name is called. At first, I just start my cursory clap and don't even realize it's for me until Emmers and Courtney start pushing me toward the stage. As shock subsides, anxiety registers. Lacey is supposed to be princess, and I worry she'll be angry with me. Before I make my way to the stage, I look around and realize she's just a few feet from me. I offer her an apologetic look, but she's smiling, and though it doesn't reach her eyes, I know she's trying.
"Hey, it's better than losin' to Missy fuckin' Potter," she whispers to me, and I smile at her in gratitude.
When the court dance begins, I'm comfortably dancing with Cam, my prince, but I can't stop myself from glancing over at the king with his queen and thinking how good they look together. No wonder Maddie was practically snarling at me in the hallway all week. But Robin isn't looking at me, he's glaring at Cam, who, with his arms slung casually around my waist, doesn't even notice. It's only a minute into the dance when Robin taps Cam on the shoulder and asks to cut in. Cam looks at me for my okay, which I give without words, and he shrugs and walks over to an affronted Maddie, and smiles at her wickedly. I notice her blush and accept Cam's offer to dance with him instead.
****
When it's time to leave, Cam grabs my elbow.
"You're ridin' home with me," he says into my ear.
"What do you mean? I can't," I reply
"Forbes has been sippin' out of a flask all night. You're not gettin' in a car with him," Cam informs me.
Shit. Has he?
I saw his friend Tommy offer him a drink earlier and he took it, but I thought it was just the one. Now that Cam has mentioned it, Robin has had whiskey on his breath all night.
Suddenly I'm anxious as hell. I can't let him drive me home, I know better than that, and more importantly, Cam would never allow it. But I can't tell Robin I'm leaving with Cam, that'd never fly, and I can't let Robin drive at all if he's been drinking like Cam says.
"I'll take care of it," I murmur to Cam and make to head over to where Robin is standing in the corner of the gym with his buddies. Cam doesn't release my elbow.
"You won't get in the car with him." It's not a question.
I nod. I won't, but I don't know how he's going to react. I've never questioned Robin before, and our relationship is still so new. If it even is a relationship. I'm not his girlfriend, I don't think, so do I even have the right to dictate to him when he's had too much to drive?
Maybe not, but I can't just let him drive, that much I know.
I gingerly approach him and can now easily see the shine in his eyes, the sloppy slant to his grin. Robin's been drinking plenty, and I can't help but wonder when?
"There she is," he announces and grabs my hand. He pulls me through the door to the boys locker room, now completely deserted.
Before I can even open my mouth to speak, I'm pushed back against the lockers and his mouth is on mine. His kiss is harder than usual, more aggressive and less sweet. His lips move down my neck and for the first time, his hands don't stay in their safe zones. One moves up over my shirt to my chest, so I grab it, and try to push it back down. He obeys, but too much, and it continues down and around back to grab my ass. I reach back and push it away again.
"Rob," I say, trying to get his attention, but he doesn't relent. His hands keep exploring. "Robin, please," I whisper, suddenly desperate for him to back off.
And with a frustrated groan, he does.
"Come on, sweetheart, I just wanna touch you a little. You're so damn gorgeous," he murmurs and his lips find my neck again, but his hands are finally behaving. "God, how's a man supposed to behave himself?"
I push him back and he stumbles a step before his eyes finally focus on mine. He sighs a resigned sigh. "Alright sweetheart, let's get you home," he says and takes my hand to lead me outside.
I don't move. "Robin..." I hesitate.
His eyes light up, but before he can mistake my hesitation as indecision as to how far I'm willing to go right now - which it most definitely
is not - I explain. "You've been drinkin'..."
His eyes narrow. "So?" He doesn't deny it, and I can tell he thinks I'm being judgmental.
"So, I think you should just let Cam drive us home. He can drop you off and then take me home."
For a long moment Robin just glares at me, then he steps forward so there's no room between us and smirks sloppily.
"You worried about me, sweetheart?" he whispers.
I nod. Because it's the truth.
Robin smiles. "Foster ain't takin' my date home for me. How about you drive me and then take my car home. I'll have Lace drive me to your place tomorrow, and I can take you to lunch to thank you for being such a thoughtful, sweet, gorgeous girl." He pecks me chastely on the lips.
My grin is impossible to suppress. He's being so reasonable. And sweet. And I know for a fact that he never lets anyone drive his car. In fact, everyone knows it. He loves it too much.
"You'll let me drive your car?"
His drunken sloppy grin is actually adorable. "I think I will, darlin'."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Present Day
The last few weeks haven't been awful. My calculus grades are up, no doubt thanks to Sam's tutoring me in the library after school twice a week. My AP English teacher agreed to write a letter of recommendation to NYU, and even though it was submitted late, my mom got the admissions office to agree to include it with my application due to my "extenuating circumstances". I applied to a few local safety schools in the city and also here in Long Island, but I have to get into NYU, it's the only thing that makes me actually look forward to the future.
Before the bell rings to signal the end of first period, Mr. Frank hands out yesterday's quizzes and I can't help but smile and do a small, seated, victory dance at my ninety two. Sam glances back at me and grins as I mouth a heartfelt "thank you". Sam winks.
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