ReCAP: A NORMAL Novella (12 page)

I take deep breaths and try to focus myself.
"Rory. What did you mean?" I ask her slowly, carefully.

But she doesn't answer, instead, her eyes
roll and she sways on her feet.

"I just meant… that right
now, drunk or not, I know what I want, and I want—“ but she gags,
and even though I know she's backtracking, that she's trying to
cover her confession with bullshit, I'm now worried she's going to
be sick and that becomes my first priority. I ignore the fact that
my whole world is spinning. That Rory unwittingly just told me her
ex didn't just hit her, that he fucking
raped
her.

Motherfucking
fuck!

"Ror? Ror, are you okay?"

Her eyes roll back and she squeaks out
"sick" and then she's fucking stumbling to the ground, and I grab
her just in time to stop her from falling.

I pick her up and carry her to the bathroom,
checking to make sure she stays conscious.

I'm such a fucking bastard. I was supposed
to be looking out for her. And I let her drink herself sick, and
nearly took advantage of her.

I set her down on the edge of the bathtub,
and make sure she's steady before I get a washcloth and run some
cool water over it. I press it to her forehead.

"Fuck, Ror, you only had three drinks at the
bars. You didn't take any drinks from anyone else, did you?"

She shakes her head. "No, you told me not
to," she says shakily.

I rake my finger through my hair. Even for
the most inexperienced drinker, it shouldn't be enough to get her
sick. "How much sangria did you drink at dinner?"

She shrugs. "Two glasses?" It's a question,
and it doesn't leave me with too much confidence.

"Fuck, Rory." And then I'm hit with a scary
thought. I narrow my eyes at her. "Did you take a pill tonight,
Rory?"

I know immediately that
I'm right, even before her slow nod.
Goddamn it,
doesn't she know how
dangerous that is?!

"Damn it, Rory! Don't you know you're not
supposed to drink on those?!"

But she looks so adorably
contrite that I can't even stay mad. "I... I didn't think about it.
I didn't want to freak out and ruin everyone's night. I just wanted
one night to be normal. I took it before we went out, I…
forgot."

There's that word
again.
Normal
.
She doesn't even see the irony of the most incredible,
extraordinary girl wishing she was just like every other girl who
barely ever even turned my head.  

I can't even hide my affection for her when
I'm still kind of mad. Well, congratulations, Pine. You took drugs
and drank and now you're sick. Welcome to teenage normalcy," I tell
her.

I get up but she grabs my hand to stop me,
and she looks almost frightened.

"I'm just going to get you some water. Look,
Rory, you should probably throw up. I think you probably will
anyway, but either way, you should make yourself," I tell her.

She makes an adorably repulsed face and I
can't help but crack a smile.

"Stop being cute, I'm still mad at you."

I go and grab some water for her, and hand
her the bottle. She looks at it dubiously.

"I can't. My stomach," she croaks.

Yeah, she needs to puke.

"Come." I hold out my hands to her and she
trembles as she slips hers into mine. I guide her down in front of
the toilet and gather her hair away from her face. I rub up and
down her back. "You need to throw up, Ror. Trust me, you'll feel
better," I encourage her.

She gags, but she isn't listening, she's
still trying to hold it in.

"Go... away," she chokes out.

"Rory…" I chasten her. Why
won't she just listen to me for once?

"Please. Don't... want you
to see me throw up…"

Oh. Well that's just
stupid. Doesn't she know I already find her irresistible? A little
vomit isn't going to change that.

"Yeah, well I don't want to see you in the
hospital. So I need you to throw up for me, okay?"

"I'll do it if you leave."

But I'm not leaving her, and she hasn't got
a choice in the matter. She wretches into the toilet a moment
later, and I sit beside her, holding her hair and rubbing her
back.

"There you go," I encourage her.

When she's finally emptied her stomach, she
sighs with relief and sits back, resting her head against the
toilet seat.

"That's my girl," I
whisper. She's not, of course. But it's this moment – when I've
just witnessed her throw up more than I ever thought could fit
inside her little body, when her head is pressed to the fucking
toilet – that I wish she could be. Not just something more than
friends, but
my
girl
.

It's the first time I've ever actually
wanted a girlfriend. But I would do anything for this girl. And I'd
rather spend an evening stuck next to a toilet with her, than
anywhere else, doing anything else, with anyone else.

And I know, somehow, that given the chance,
I could feel this way forever.

She asks for privacy again, which I
refuse.

I tell her I want her to
stay in my room so I can keep an eye on her, and then help her get
cleaned up. She rinses her mouth thoroughly with mouthwash and
washes off all that makeup, revealing the Rory I know and…
love?

I shake the thought out of my head. It's too
much to think about right now.

I finally leave her alone in the bathroom to
finish up, and get my damned head on straight.

I grab the extra pillows and blankets from
the closet and make up the couch for myself, knowing I'm not going
to get much sleep tonight anyway.

"Sam, I think I'm okay, I just wanna get to
bed," Rory murmurs when she comes out. What did she think I had
planned? A round of monopoly?

"That's the plan," I assure her.

I wash up in the bathroom, but when I come
out, Rory's laying on the couch.

"What are you doing?" I
ask her, and she blinks at me.
God
, she must think I'm a real
asshole if she thought I meant for her to sleep on the damned
couch. "You're not sleeping there."

She sits up, and I realize she still doesn't
get my meaning.

"The couch is for me, Rory. You take the
bed." I know she's about to argue, and I hold out my hand to stop
her. "Not a chance. Come on, Ror, let me be a gentleman."

"I wish you were less of a
damn gentleman," she mutters under her breath, and I laugh. She
means for stopping our… whatever that almost was. And it shoots a
thrill through my bloodstream. I love that she still wants me even
though she's sobering up, and I wonder what it means.

She takes my hand and I help her up.

My breath catches. Holy fuck, she's wearing
my boxers. Why is that the hottest thing I've ever fucking
seen?

"Sorry," she offers. Unless she's
apologizing for my raging hard-on, I have no idea why she's
sorry.

"Help yourself," I say with a chuckle. I
also love that she felt comfortable enough to borrow my underwear
without asking, and I want her to keep them. I want to imagine her
wearing them to bed at night long after we return from break.

I follow her into the bedroom and she climbs
under the covers.

"You gonna tuck me in?" she teases me.

"Something like that," I tell her. In truth,
I want to climb in behind her and hold her all night. I don't even
care about hooking up. But of course, that's out of the question.
Shit, I hope she's not nervous being alone in here with me right
now. "You're okay, right? That I'm here, I mean."

She lies down and rolls to face me. "Yeah,
Sam. I've told you, I trust you. I'm pretty sure you can't trigger
me anymore. Not unless you did something intentionally to."

"I would
never
—“

"I know."

I sigh, and sit down on the edge of the bed.
I love hearing that from her, but I'm not sure I'm worthy of that
trust right now. Not after my behavior tonight. I'm reeling with
everything that's happened, from the intensity of our kisses, but
most of all, from her revelation.

Rory wasn't just abused.
She was raped. And I can't wrap my mind around it. How could
someone do that to her? Her
boyfriend
. He was supposed to
protect her. For him to violate her in the worst way… I just feel
like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and run through a
fucking shredder. I want so desperately to ask her about it, but I
know I can't tonight, so I just lean down and press a soft kiss to
her forehead, hoping that it's enough for her to know what she
means to me, and that I'd never let anyone hurt her ever
again.

"Goodnight, Ror. Look, if you wake up and
you don't feel good, or you need something, anything, wake me up,
okay? I mean it."

"Thanks," she breathes.

I smile. "I got you, Pine. What-"

"
are friends for
, I
know."

****

The
Way Things Should Have Been

I
'm in love with Rory. I haven't told her, I may never have
the balls to tell her, but I've finally admitted it to myself, and
that's something. As we lay on the beach in the afternoon sun, her
head resting on my stomach, I rest my eyes and try to make sense of
the day.

I was up most of the night, my head reeling
with Rory's admission, grappling between overwhelming fury and
devastating grief. Witnessing another one of her nightmares didn't
help, but holding her did, and by the time morning came, I knew how
I felt about her. I think I've known it a while, but it's not an
easy thing to admit, especially for someone who didn't believe the
concept even existed a few months ago.

And I knew I had to know the truth. It took
a whole lot of nerve I wasn't sure I had to ask her to tell me
everything. I was terrified she would just shut down and run away.
In truth, I was hoping that what I'd been imagining all night was
worse than the reality. But Rory dashed those hopes with her
story.

He beat her and raped her.
Repeatedly. For months. And the last time… the last time he almost
killed her. Nausea overtakes me every time I think of it, and I try
to think of what I can do, how I can fucking punish him for what
he's done. He can't be too hard to find. And her fucking father. I
thought my father was a dick, and he is, but this… this is a
different kind of betrayal. I hope I never meet the man, because I
may have gotten better at handling my supposed anger issues, but
fuck if I haven't fantasized about beating them both to a bloody
pulp a hundred times since this morning…

I still don't have a good
read on that best friend of hers. She's said a couple of times that
every guy she ever cared about has only hurt or abandoned her, and
today she said this
Cam
character would never hurt her. So why, if he was
such a good friend, did he abandon her when she fucking needed him?
Why would he let this happen to her? What kind of best friend just
stands by and allows his best friend to get abused and assaulted? I
grit my teeth and take a deep, settling breath, watching Rory rise
and fall with it.

But I can't shake the
feeling that there's more to the story than a platonic friendship.
That now familiar jealousy rears its ugly head, and I have to force
it back down. It was my arms she slept in last night, me she was
kissing barely a couple of hours ago.

I open my eyes and peek down at Rory,
resting peacefully with her eyes closed, face to the sun. She's
grown tan in the two days we've been here, and small freckles have
sprouted on her nose and cheeks. She somehow manages to get more
beautiful every time I look at her, and my chest swells with what I
now know is love.

I didn't make a conscious
decision to kiss her this morning. After all of the horrors she'd
just confided, it was hardly the appropriate thing to do, but it
felt so natural – the only way to express what I was feeling for
her. She seemed to agree, but still, I needed to know if it was me
she wanted, or just a guy she trusted enough to be intimate
with.

I have to believe that she
cares for me. Whether or not she loves me, whether or not she's
even capable of that after all she's been through, I have to
believe that she knows that me and her – we're something real.
Something
more
.

But I'm afraid to push her.

She sits up suddenly, yawning, and I wonder
if she fell asleep.

Tucker and Carl argue over food, and I
realize that Rory hasn't eaten anything substantial all day.
Neither have I for that matter, and I suggest we all get
smoothies.

We pack up our things from the beach and
move to the pool deck. Tucker and Dave push three tables together
for our group to sit, and I ask Rory what she wants.

She tells me to surprise
her, and I smile at the irony. She's the one always
surprising
me
.

I bring her a strawberry banana smoothie and
she sips it quietly.

I regret our plans for tonight. The boys and
girls are having separate dinners, and I hate being apart from her
when we just got together this fucking morning.

"How's your smoothie, Ror?" I ask. I'll get
her another one if she doesn't like it. I'll get her one of every
kind to try.

She nods and smiles, and continues
sipping.

"Ha,
Ror
, do you call her that 'cause
that's what she makes you do when you fuck her? Ha! Roar! Get it?"
Dave spits, and I lose my fucking mind.