God am I lucky it's too dark for him to see my blush. Has Cam ever made me blush before? Jesus, tonight has really thrown me off. I turn to my side, away from Cam, and hug my pillow.
When I hear him open the closet door for his sleeping bag, I reach behind me and flip open the comforter. Cam sighs at my silent request, and hesitates only a few moments before sliding behind me and wrapping me in his arms. I find his hand, so big splayed over my stomach, and lace my fingers with his. I hide my wince from my smarting back as he pulls me tighter against him, but I'm grateful for the comfort.
"God I've missed you, Ror," he breathes into my hair.
"Me too, Cam." He has no idea how much. I'm so glad he can't see my face right now.
"I thought you were goin down to Gainesville with Forbes," he says.
I shake my head. "We... broke up," I whisper.
My back smarts again as Cam's lungs fill with a sharp intake of air. He swallows, then exhales. "Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks.
I shake my head again. "Not tonight. I just wanna sleep," I whisper back. I feel Cam's nod.
"Okay. Night, Ror." He kisses my hair.
"Night, Cam. Love you." Feeling how emphatically I mean the words, I regret every time I've said them to Robin. I'm quite sure now that I never really loved him at all.
"Me too, Rory girl."
I breathe deeply, inhaling Cam's scent. I'm filled with his masculine essence, he smells clean, and strong... like home.
"Ror?" he whispers.
"Yeah?"
"Did you just... uh... sniff me?" he asks. I can hear the smile in his voice.
I jab him lightly with my elbow in response and we both laugh.
Finally I close my eyes, and slip back into sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Present Day
I'm a different person in Miami. The sun is shining, and I let the vitamin D seep into my skin. Here, I don't have to be Rory: victim, survivor, or damaged mess.
Here, I'm just another high school senior blowing off steam on Spring Break. I walk alone on the beach as the sun begins to set. We all spent the day by the pool, relaxing, swimming, just messing around like normal teenagers. And here, now, I can pretend I'm one of them.
I've showered and slipped on my cutoffs and a tank top, and decided to sneak in some quick alone time on the beach before I head up to Carl and Tina's room to submit to Carl's insistence on doing my hair and makeup. Tonight, we're all going out to dinner and then to club and bar hop. Dave has the inside info on which establishments don't ask for ID, and I'm truly looking forward to continuing Operation: Normal Rory.
I was shocked when I saw the room Sam's uncle put me up in. It's more like a giant suite with only one room. A contemporary king bed dominates the large space, with a huge modern marble bathroom with both a shower, and a tub, not to mention a vanity area and a bidet. And it also has its own living area and an incredible balcony. But that's not what most shocked me.
When I texted Sam that there must be some mistake with my room since the rate I paid shouldn't cover even the most basic accommodations in this hotel, I heard an immediate knock on my door.
But not the main door. No, the knock came from the door to the adjoining room.
My room attaches to Sam's suite.
And a suite it is. It's a freaking luxury apartment.
Sam's suite has a separate bedroom, living room, and even a small kitchen with a dining table. His uncle sure took care of him.
Sam even offered to keep the doors adjoining our rooms open, or at least unlocked, since he has a separate bedroom anyway, but I told him I didn't think it was a good idea. I know he thinks it's because I don't trust him, not fully - not to give him unfettered access to my bedroom - but the truth is, I'm worried I'll let this new Normal Rory thing go to my head. That I might crawl into his bed in the middle of the night like I used to do with Cam, but without the element of innocence. Especially if I have something to drink. It's not like I've drunk enough in my life to have developed much of a tolerance for alcohol.
Anyway, I'm sure Kendall wouldn't like us keeping our rooms open to one another, and as jealous as I am of her, she's never done anything to me, and I wouldn't disrespect her like that.
I make my way up to Carl's room and am shuffled into a whirlwind of clothes, makeup brushes and sponges, hair irons, and eye shadows and lipsticks of every color imaginable. Carl wants to dress me, but I insist on wearing my own outfit, and she only agrees when I promise not to wear jeans.
Tina styles my hair in long, loose waves - a more polished and dramatic version of my natural look - and Carl goes to work on my face. Even when I wore makeup regularly it never took me more than twenty or thirty minutes, but Carl spends almost an hour doing God only knows what. She applies products I've never even heard of, and I start to get a little worried she's going to make me look like a hooker.
"You are going to get a lot of attention tonight, Rory," Carl murmurs while she works. I roll my eyes. "Hey! Don't do that, do you want your liner uneven?" she asks, and I laugh. I really couldn't care less about uneven eyeliner.
"I don't want attention, I just want to have fun with my friends. You guys aren't gonna ditch me for Tuck and Andy, right?"
Tuck and Carl have been bickering like crazy. They still consider each other a casual hookup, but it's plain for anyone to see that there are real feelings there, though neither of them will admit it, and it's causing friction between them. I'm hoping that this trip will bring them some perspective, because Tuck is obviously head over heels for Carl, and Carl is way too stubborn for her own good.
"We promised we wouldn't leave you alone, relax, and I'm sure Cap will be watching you like a hawk anyway," Tina murmurs flippantly while she teases my hair.
"Why on earth would he do that?" I ask, bemused, though he did vow to look out for me, but Tina wouldn't know that...
"Uh, because he always does, and you usually wear jeans and no makeup. Tonight, you're a freaking knockout," Carl replies as she turns and holds up a hand mirror to show me her finished product.
Holy shit.
"Damn, you guys are fucking miracle workers," I murmur as I glare at a version of myself I don't even recognize. They both laugh, but I'm utterly mesmerized.
I'm not a vain person. But Carl is right, tonight I look a damn lot better than I normally do.
"You're a good canvas, Rory," she replies
"You should do this professionally," I say, and we all laugh.
Of course, she fully intends to. Carl has said a hundred times how she wants to own her own salon one day. I don't know how I seemed to miss this fact when she offered - well more like demanded - to doll me up tonight, but the girl knows what she's doing, that's for sure. Tina, too.
"Alright, go change, we're all meeting downstairs in fifteen minutes! Hurry up," Tina shoos me out of the room.
I smile to myself when I see my reflection in the mirrored elevator doors. I really look something special tonight, I think as I enter my room. As long as I don't get triggered in some way, tonight is going to be a blast.
I can't let anything ruin tonight.
I decide to preemptively take a pill - just to make sure I don't freak out because some guy ends up in an elevator with me, or bumps into me in a bar, or some other normal occurrence that for me could be catastrophic.
I pull out the semi-short, flouncy pink skirt I bought with Carl and pair it with a plain white tank and my motorcycle boots. I'm not exactly comfortable in a skirt, but I know that compared to all of the other girls in micro-mini skirts, halter tops, and skyscraper heels, I'm basically a nun.
And I have pharmaceutical help to calm my nerves and uncertainty.
I grab my purse and head out the door just as I see Sam doing the same. Okay, pill or not, now I'm nervous. He's never seen me dressed up at all, and I'm not sure if I'm more worried that he won't like it, or that he will.
He's ending a call on his cell phone when he sees me, and freezes with it mid
air. He blinks at me, but doesn't speak, only heightening my nerves. An awkward moment passes interminably.
"Well, say somethin', will ya?" I murmur, full southern Rory in effect. I must learn to control my accent when I'm nervous or upset.
Sam is wearing jeans and a fitted white tee shirt with a stylish navy blue blazer. He looks freaking edible. I can see the definition of his chest muscles through his shirt, and his perpetual just-rolled-out-of-bed hair is still damp from his shower. My knees start to feel a little weak and I swallow anxiously.
I force myself to mentally shake it off. I need to gather my wits if I'm going to go out on the town with my crush who's supposed to just be a close friend when he's looking like something to eat. More so even than usual.
"Uh..." He's still completely frozen.
"Sam," I admonish. His silence is freaking me out!
Sam finally unfreezes and runs his fingers through his hair. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, Ror... You look... nice," he murmurs before averting his gaze.
"Yeah?" I'm not fishing for a compliment. I know Carl and Tina did an amazing job with my hair and makeup, but I'm not sure it's me. And my outfit... I doubt I'll fit in with any of the other girls out tonight. Sam takes the steps that separate his door from mine and meets my gaze once again.
"Yeah, Ror. Really, really, really nice," he assures me, his voice low and unsure, as if my looking nice isn't necessarily a good thing. "I hope you don't get me into a fight tonight," he mutters under his breath as we start walking toward the elevator. With his words - ones I'm not even sure I was meant to hear - I realize that his frozen reaction to my outfit was probably just concern over my attracting attention, and making it more work to keep up with his protective promise. But if he thinks I might attract attention, then that means he really does think I look good, and the thought makes me smile to myself.
For some reason it's awkward as we wait for the elevator to arrive, and I'm starting to feel apprehensive about the whole evening. I don't know why it's taken me until now to remember that I don't want to attract attention - that it's exactly what I've been dressing to avoid for the past year.
"I don't look like I'm, you know, askin' for it, do I?" I ask, suddenly worried I've made a huge mistake wearing a skirt. It's not too late to go change into jeans. Sam's brow furrows, confused by my question.
"Asking for what? What are you talking about?" he asks, and I'm suddenly incredibly embarrassed.
I look down at my boots and start stammering like an idiot. "I just don't want anyone to think, you know, that I'm lookin' for somethin'. Because I'm dressed like this... in a skirt. I... I-"
Sam turns to me and lifts my chin to meet his gaze. "Rory, no one is going to think anything about you because you're wearing a fucking skirt. They'd have no right to. I don't know where you'd get such an idea." He sighs. "You look beautiful. Really beautiful... just stick close by when we're out, okay? It'll be fun. Relax," he insists, and with his words, I do, I relax, clinging to the sound of Sam's voice calling me beautiful, and the burst of emotion that feels an awful lot like hope.
The elevator arrives, we both step in and I press the call button for the lobby.
"Ready to go over the rules for tonight?" Sam asks. The what now?
"What rules?"
"For the bars. I want you to stick close to the girls and make sure you don't get separated from the group. If they go pair off with their guys, which they will, make sure you find me first. Don't let them go off without first-"
"Why do I get rules? It's spring break, it's supposed to be fun, you've been saying so for weeks! Why doesn't anyone else get rules?" I grumble.
"They've all been out to clubs and bars in the city a hundred times, Rory. How many have you been to before?" he asks.
I purse my lips. "None."
Sam smirks. "Don't pout, you're too adorable like that and we need to go over the rules."
"Fine," I huff like a preschooler.
"First, don't accept any drinks from someone you don't know... In fact, don't take any drinks from people you do know either. I'll get your drinks for you," he decides.
"And what if you're off workin' on some random hookup when I want a refill?" I ask, and I push down the flare of pain at the thought.
I don't know what would be worse, him flirting with some stranger right in front of me or him not doing so because he's being faithful to Kendall. I think the idea of him being committed, exclusive, maybe even in love... I think that'd be far worse.
I'm an awful friend.
"Don't worry about that, I'm not going to abandon you, okay?" he says meaningfully.
I've heard that before too. But people don't always have a choice. Sometimes they don't mean to abandon you, but they do anyway. Even when you need them the most.
Like when you're out at a bar dressed like a hussy with more makeup than a call girl and all your friends have paired off to go hook up...
Maybe this whole night was a bad idea.
"Hey. Ror. I mean it, it's going to be fun. We'll stick together, okay?"
I nod hesitantly. I don't want to ruin his night either.
"Okay, so drinks only from me, and don't put it down once you get one either. Keep an eye on it at all times. If you need to put it down, don't pick it back up, I'll just get you a new one."
"You sure I'm not gonna be attacked by some random girls jealous that I'm bogartin' all of your attention?" I tease.
He really is something to look at. Carl joked that I'd be getting attention tonight, but Sam doesn't go anywhere without every female head turning in his direction, including mine. And some male ones too.
We walk out of the elevator and head to the lounge off of the lobby where we're meeting everyone. "Don't be ridiculous," Sam murmurs dismissively.
"Ridiculous? Chelsea came after me in a bathroom stall because you spend time with me. Kendall tried to pimp me out to her own brother to keep me away from you! I'm not bein' ridiculous. They all think-"
"Rory, you have no idea what you're talking about. Kendall doesn't like me like that. That's not what that was about," he argues.
"Oh, really? Then what was that about? She sure seemed eager to set me up with... Randy, was it? You can't really think she just met me for two seconds and immediately thought I'd be perfect to 'settle down' with her brother..."
Sam takes a gentle hold of my elbow to halt our progress through the lobby. I can see our friends over by the lobby bar, but we're still far off away enough that they haven't seen us yet.
"Kendall wasn't being possessive, Ror. We're really just friends. She was just messing with me," he explains, explaining nothing at all.
So the idea of me dating the "super hot" Randy is a joke? She was messing with him? I know I'm scowling, but I can't help it, I'm offended.
"No, Ror, you don't get it," Sam says, exasperated. He shoves his hand through his hair and sighs, as if deciding something. "She was just trying to make me jealous, okay? Kendall, she's a good friend, just a friend. But she thinks she knows everything, and she thinks that you and me... she just thinks I should, you know, make a move or something. With you. See if we might be more than just friends - because we've gotten so close and whatever. But I've told her you're not looking for that. The thing with Randy - she was trying to light a fire under my ass, so to speak. Push me to make a move, that's all," he explains.
That's all?
I'm about to ask him why Kendall would think he should make a move on me - what he meant by "and whatever", but I stop myself. It's no different than Carl seeing all those little things that she took as evidence of some secret love affair. Or crush. But Carl turned out to be right, at least about my feelings for Sam.
Could it be possible that Kendall is seeing the same thing in her friend that Carl saw in me?
I stop myself. I shouldn't let myself hope for such things - there's just no point. Because even in some crazy world where Sam could want me, it could never be enough. My feelings are too strong; I'm in too deep. And I'm not gi
rlfriend material, even if he would ever want me as one, I'm just too fucked up, and he knows that better than anyone. He's seen my panic attacks, witnessed my nightmares, knows my triggers, seen my scars.
No. He could never want that. Who would choose that? And he doesn't deserve it even if he could. He deserves a normal girl. And, of course, there's his "no girlfriends in high school" rule.
"You and Kendall are really just friends?" I ask so softly I'm not even sure he heard me.
"Yeah, Ror. I mean, I'm not gonna lie to you, we used to hook up. But it was just that, a hookup. Physical. Kendall's got a boyfriend now - a serious one. She's in love. It was never like that with us. She's a good friend," he explains, and I've no doubt of his sincerity.
The relief I feel at hearing this is only more evidence of how out of hand my feelings have grown. I want to ask him if it would actually make him jealous if I was to go out with Randy, but I don't. I'm not sure I'd want to hear the answer.
We meet up with everyone at the bar and pile into three taxis to head to the Mexican restaurant for dinner. I'm not usually a drinker, but since everyone ordered pitchers of sangria, I decide to have a glass. I've never had it before and it's actually really good - sweet, so I doubt it has too much alcohol.
A few glasses later and dinner is over. Everyone is having a ball - laughing, joking. Andrew and Tina are kissing, and Tuck and Carl are arguing over female independence and who should pay the check on a date.
Lately every issue that's come up has turned into a full blown battle of wills between those two and it's getting kind of old. I wish they'd simply profess their love for one another and put everyone out of our misery. Because it's obvious as hell to everyone but them.
By the time we're at the third bar of the evening it's clear it's where we'll be ending the night. Everyone's drinking and dancing and flirting and I doubt anyone would even recognize the change in venue if we did decide to go somewhere else. Carl and Tuck have gone from making out in the first bar, to screaming at each other in the second, to a mixture of both now.
I watch Tina and Andrew climb into a cab to go back to the hotel and I've no doubt as to what they're up to.
NORMAL Page 24