"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'tevertouch 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 tofuckyou. 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. Nowhe'sapologizing 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 amsosorry for that. But I'm sorry for assuming-Iwasn'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.Justfriends." He covers his mouth and whispers conspiratorially, "no public fucking on the grass outside of parties. I promise Not even if you beg."
