Normal (Something More, #1)

by Danielle Pearl

The sneer I expect is missing. He's not looking at me like I'm some psycho freak - though I'm pretty sure that's what I've become. Instead, he's watching me with genuine concern. His eyes are the deepest blue, like a midnight sky, and his brow is creased with worry.

He's harmless. There's that word again. But I know better. Of course he's harmless. Everyone is harmless. Until they're not. Robin used to be harmless too. I don't say any of this to Carl though.

The students settle, and just before he turns to face the smart board, Sam peeks back at me and half smiles. For a moment, I think I imagined it, but then Carl nudges me with her elbow and mouths, "see!" I don't see really. He's just barely acknowledged me.

I don't tell her he's only being nice because he thinks there's something wrong with me. Because he knows there's something wrong with me. Because he pities me. Pity.

If they pitied me it would have meant they believed me. Now, I don't want pity. I want to pretend like none of it ever happened. That was the whole point of moving across the country. That no one would know. But while Sam may not know what happened, he's witnessed the scars. Not the physical scar, but the emotional ones. And those are far deeper.

Everyone looks so happy and carefree... normal. I don't belong here.

"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.

"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."

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 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.

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.

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.

He's right. According to Lacey he's incredible, and I can't help but let my gaze drift to his lips. "Don't you look at me like that, Ror," he whispers. I meet his eyes again. "Like what?"

"Well, you've been ignoring me, so I just figured..." I trail off. He's looking at me like my words are irritating him. I'm trying to give him an out from doing something I'm sure he doesn't want to do, so why that would bug him, I can't imagine. "You can't be serious." When I just continue to blink at him he continues. "Rory I haven't been ignoring you, I just backed off because I thought that's what you wanted."

But damn, he was trying to be respectful by giving up on this friends thing. And I've been stressing about it, though I didn't want to admit it to myself. God, I just can't get it together - first I ask him to leave me alone, then I'm upset when he does. I suppose the concept of a man respecting my wishes, taking me at my word... these are completely novel to me.

The more we chat, the more it becomes clear that regardless of what I've said, we are becoming friends. There's a strange kind of comfort, a rare connection I seem to share with Sam. I realize how unlikely it is to find, and decide that maybe I should give him a chance. After all, it's not like I'm trying to replace Cam.

"So, look, you saw me have that panic attack my first day..." I wait for him to acknowledge this with a nod. "So I have these triggers. I know it's weird-" "It's not weird," he cuts me off, and I blink at him for a moment. "Well it's not normal," I counter.

"Some of these... triggers... Look, I can't walk out there with you," I gesture out the doors. "Not alone. It's not personal, okay? It's got nothin' to do with you. I really don't wanna offend you. Like I've said before, you've been nothin' but nice to me." I'm rambling, my nerves betraying my otherwise carefully hidden accent, and I'm not sure if I'm making any sense. "Okay, Rory. I get it," he says.

Sam doesn't push though. "He was an idiot," he says simply. "The guy that hurt you." Now I'm the one with the ironic chuckle. "They all hurt me, Sam. One way or another," I murmur. "But thanks."

I know Sam can't know how significant it is that I can tolerate these casual touches. Like his patting my head, or when he took my hand to lead me down the hall last week, or the few times he's touched my arm when he thought I might be upset, or even when he playfully elbows me. All friendly, innocent touches, that for me hold a world of meaning. Just a few months ago, a pat on the back from my mother's male co-worker thrust me into a full blown panic attack. But Sam - his touch feels natural, and not only can I tolerate it, but I think I actually find comfort in it.

I actually consider it. If it's a family dinner then we won't be alone. And after my freak out in the library, the fact is, Sam's had me alone. If he wanted to do something about it, take advantage of it in some way, surely he would have already. But then, Sam has also made it abundantly clear he has no romantic or sexual interest in me - that he's only ever wanted me as a friend. I should be comforted by the fact that he isn't attracted to me. I know that.

It was barely over a month ago that I told him I couldn't handle being at his house even with his family there, and I know he reads the significance in the fact that I'm agreeing to do just that. He doesn't say anything more about it, though. Instead, he slings an arm casually around my shoulders as we both scan the diner for our respective groups of friends.

Suddenly I feel like the odd man out. Invisible again. And for some reason, right now, it bothers me.

"I, uh, would need my own room... sleep issues," I explain with a shrug. "Who's sleeping?" Carl replies, "It's spring break! We're there to party, not sleep!" I roll my eyes, but under the table, unseen by the others, Sam squeezes my knee. I meet his gaze. "I'll take care of it," he breathes into my ear.

"Everything's going to be fine, Rory. Just stay in the vestibule. If there's a lock you can turn from the inside, do it. Otherwise just stay inside and I'll see you in ten minutes, okay?" "Okay." There is a lock, so I turn it and relax a little more. Sam takes an audibly deep breath. "You want me to stay on the phone with you?" I know I should say no - that I'm already burdening him enough this evening with having me over for dinner, teaching me calculus, and now having to rescue me from my own stupidity. "If you don't mind," I say instead, surprising even myself with the potency of my accent. "I don't mind, Rory. Of course not," he assures me, and goes on to apologize about freezing earlier, explaining that he was just surprised to see me here.

I only hang up when he's right outside the door, and as soon as I'm out of the vestibule, without even thinking about it, I step right into his arms. They wrap around me like I belong in them, and now, finally, I relax.

She was truly shocked to the bone to learn what'd happened - what'd been happening for so long right under her nose. I know in many ways she blamed herself. Blames herself. Not as much as she blames my father though, and I think that actually helped with her self-recrimination. But since everything came out, she's been making up for lost time. Where we used to go full days without connecting, now she checks in with me every couple of hours when I'm out.

On the ride home I once again marvel at how comfortable I am in a situation that is, in itself, one of my most precarious triggers.

But right now, alone with Sam, who outwardly seems to have a lot in common with Robin, I feel no fear. Because I believe that inside Sam and Robin couldn't possibly be more different. Sam is slowly earning my trust - something that just over a month ago I'd never have thought possible - and I smile to myself at the thought.

"What's with the secret smile?" Sam asks, breaking me out of my thoughts. I look over at him, chewing my lip as I consider him a moment, before deciding to simply tell him the truth. "I beat a trigger," I reply proudly. "Oh yeah? Which one is that?" "I'm in the car with you. Alone. And I'm not panicking. I'm not even scared," I admit, unable to keep the self-satisfaction out of my voice. In fact, I sound downright boastful.

Sam continues to glance between me and the road. "Was that trigger specific to me? Or guys? Or being alone with anyone?" he asks. "Guys. Men. Being alone with a guy in general is... well I haven't been in almost a year, anyway. Except for you, obviously. But in a car... I never thought I'd be able to do it again, to be honest. Not ever," I admit, wondering why...

I may not have had "calculus" to say before, I still had "no" and "stop" and all the others, and I know better than anyone that with the wrong person, no word, safe or otherwise, is worth a damn.

"We're all each other has," I shrug. "She gave up her whole life for me. I'm the reason they got divorced - my parents I mean. The least I can do is have dinner with her." "We have that in common then," Sam says quietly after a pregnant pause.

"The last time my dad hit my mom, he broke her nose. I was thirteen. Big for my age. For the first time, I hit him back. A lot. And then I told him to pack his shit and to leave, and if he ever came back the whole town would know what a piece of shit he was, including the cops." Sam's voice is deathly quiet. "So yeah, he left because of me. I'm the reason they got divorced."

"Can I ask you something, Ror?" he asks quietly. I look at him warily, but nod. "Did your dad... hurt you?" I take a deep breath and shake my head. "Not in the way you're thinking." "How then?" I'm silent for a few moments. The car is in park, in the middle of the street, empty on a weeknight. "He didn't protect me. He didn't help me. He blamed me..."

Sam stops me before I open the passenger door. "I'm sorry, Rory. I don't mean to pry, I just... You know you can talk to me right? If you want to, I mean. You can tell me anything, I won't repeat it, I swear. I just want to be here for you, okay? I care about you."

And yet with Sam, the words seem extraneous. His actions have already proven he cares about me - that he's a good friend. And I realize I care about him, too. Very much.

"See these? These tears, from these innocent brown eyes? These are because of him." His fingers whisper down my neck and land on my sternum, safely above the humble swell of my breasts. "This here? This is the sweetest, most beautiful heart in the goddamn world. And it's hurting. And that's because of him, too. He is the luckiest bastard on fuckin' earth, havin' a chance with my best friend in the world. And instead of cherishing that, he's goin' out with you, and messin' around on the side with some slut who couldn't hold a candle to you, Ror."

I don't want to let Robin Forbes take anything more from me than he already has. With Carl and Tina - and if I'm honest with myself, Sam - I think I can handle it. In fact, I'm actually looking forward to it. Less than two weeks away.

Carl is already out the door with her eighty five, and Sam is hanging by the door waiting for me when I'm handed my ninety four. My grin practically splits my face in two. I skip over to Sam and wave the paper in his face. "That's my girl," he smiles, and holds out his hand for a high five. I comply and he laces our fingers together, and somehow we end up holding hands as we walk to our next classes. It's strange how much pleasure the simple connection brings me. The warmth of his touch, the feel of his skin. I've never felt this before, not even with Cam, and definitely not with Robin. "God, I'm impressive," Sam murmurs.

Sam doesn't budge, instead, when I try to tug my hand from his, he holds firm, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of my hand. I'm instantly reminded of Cam, who used to do the same thing to soothe me, and I wince at the symmetry. My mind starts reeling, racing with confused thoughts. How did I get so close to Sam so quickly? Why does it feel like I’m betraying Cam? No. That's not what's happening here. No one could ever take his place. Never. God, I miss Cam. I miss what we had. What the hell is Sam doing to me?

In two months, Sam has forced his way into my heart, and nothing good can come of it. He's my friend - one of my closest friends! And here I am, lusting after him. There's no point in denying it - I want him. And not just physically either. I've only ever wanted one other person in my life, and I only realized it when it was too late. And now, with Sam, it's already too late. I'm damaged beyond repair, I know it, and he knows it too. And maybe that's why he was so clear about only wanting me as a friend from the beginning, or maybe he simply isn't attracted to me. The reason is irrelevant, and I know it should make all of this easier to repress... but there's only one forgone conclusion: I will get hurt. I am so fucked up.

It's Sam. Of course it is. I don't lift my head from my knees. I know Sam can see the pill bottle in my hand. I know I've let him down, and I also know he'll judge me for it. He'll know he was wrong. That I'm not stronger than I think I am - that I'm just as weak as I knew myself to be. And it serves him fucking right. He's not going to save me. No one is, and his unsolicited effort is just confusing me more. He keeps trying to be this good friend to me, and I don't understand why. He barely even knows me - just like Chelsea said. And I don't deserve him or his good will. I had someone. A boy I loved, who loved me. And I lost him, and it was all my fault.

You're not helping, you know that? You're only hurtin' me. And the worst of it is, I was almost starting to believe you. But... I am fucked up. The sooner you just accept that, the easier it'll be on both of us," I mutter bitterly. I blink back tears and take a deep breath. "I understand if you don't wanna be my friend anymore." I swipe at my wet cheeks and make my escape, fleeing down the stairs.

I know my words hurt Sam. I meant for them to. But I'm not sure why. He doesn't seek me out, and I don't expect him to. But I'm not quite prepared when he passes me in the hall and averts his gaze. He doesn't speak to me, he doesn't even look at me. It's just like that second week of school. We've reverted back into strangers, and I'm once again invisible. I'm not sure why I expected anything else. I asked for this.

But I didn't expect it to hurt this much. I realize he'll likely take me up on my offer to end our friendship. Why wouldn't he? I basically took everything he's ever done for me and thrown it back in his face. What I hadn't realized was how much I would miss him - how much I've taken him for granted. It's been a matter of hours, and already I feel the loss like a gaping hole in my chest. I never really considered how much I looked forward to seeing him each day. To talking to him, to joking and teasing with him. To his simple, innocent, friendly touches, that I now know were only innocent from his end. And that's why I needed to do this, I remind myself.

I can't have feelings for Sam. I can't have feelings for anyone. Not for someone else who's just going to betray or abandon m...

I swallow nervously at his intensity as a tear slides down my cheek, but I obey, still mortified from the events of the day. I remember that we're not friends anymore. That I made it so. And I wonder why he even came to my defense, yet again, when I've done nothing but spit in his face. I wonder if his anger is for me or for Chelsea, and decide it's probably both.

"She had a baby, Cap," she says hesitantly. "She's manipulating you! Can't you see? She's the one who attacked me! I mean, you saw!" "Just because she won the fight doesn't mean she started it, Chelsea."

"You okay?" he asks softly. I nod, keeping my gaze averted. I'm so not okay. "God, Ror, I'm so sorry." My eyes shoot to his. "Why? Why are you sorry? All you did was help me. All you ever do is help me! And I've been nothing but a bitch to you... I'm so fucked up," I sob defeatedly, unable to control my words as they flood my lips.