I shrug, but nod. I don't know how to react to this serious version of Tuck.
"Cap's really beating himself up over what happened."
"But it's not his fault," I argue.
"Well Cap doesn't seem to agree." By Tuck's tone I would think he agrees that Sam is at least partially to blame for what Robin did, and I can't help but wonderwhy? "But just so you know, that guy would have to have a death wish to come near you again. Cap made it very clear what would happen if he did. I got a few in myself. We got your back, Pine. You know that, right?"
I blink at him for a moment, genuinely touched. It's not that I didn't consider Tuck a friend. I did. Of course I did. I just never really considered whether or not he'd be there for me if I needed him. I suppose I never considered a situation in which Iwouldneed him. But I guess I did, and I guess he was.
"Thanks, Tuck. I mean it. Really," I say hoarsely, and he smiles sympathetically. "Is Sam back in his room?"
Tucker shakes his head. "Nah, he went for a walk on the beach. Said he needed to clear his head."
"Oh." I try to keep the disappointment from my tone, but I fail, and they both look at me in pity. "Well, I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow," I murmur.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you, Rory?" Carl offers one more time.
"Thanks, but I'll be okay," I insist, and hastily say goodnight and close the door.
I hurry into the shower, washing every inch of my body, including my hair, scrubbing furiously where I can still feel Robin’s hands on me. I scrub my scar raw, unable to stop picturing his fingers proudly stroking his mark. I don't feel totally clean, but it's not nearly as bad as the last time. Because he didn't succeed - didn't get what he wanted - and the thought is gratifying.
I slip on a camisole and the boxers I stole from Sam last night, knowing they'll offer some comfort.
I know I'll need to tell my mother what happened. I know it won't be long before she hears it herself. Because I'm eighteen, the police didn't contact her themselves, but I've no doubt that come morning, Robin will have contacted Mayor Forbes to bail him out, and Mayor Forbes will call my father, who will call my mother, accusing me of God knows what. I wonder how they will try to make it my fault this time, but I've no doubt they will.
One thing keeps bugging me though. Robin said my father told him I'd be down here, but how did my father even know? I was under the impression he and my mother barely even spoke, so why would she tell him about my spring break plans?
I decide to call my mother in the morning and tell her what happened. I know she's going to freak out, and demand I come home, but I won't allow Robin Forbes to ruin my spring break. He's ruined enough of my adolescence. I hope my mom gets it, because I know she's going to be upset - understandably - but I'm not going home early. Tomorrow I have to go into the local precinct where they'll explain the logistics of the charges and how everything will work with the restraining order and the case.
But tonight, the only thing I want to deal with is Sam. I still owe him an apology for our fight about Cam, and I also owe him a serious thank you for saving me tonight. I wonder if he's still walking the beach "clearing his head". I hate that I've complicated his life. That he's spending even a moment of his own spring break upset because of me. I want to go down to the beach to find him, but I know there's no way I can handle walking around the resort alone right now. Not at night.
I decide to check if the adjoining door on Sam's side of the room is locked, and if not, to just wait for him there. I won't be able to sleep until we talk, though I expect he probably locked the door after our argument. I wouldn't blame him.
I'm astonished to find his door isn't even closed, let alone locked. I pad though the room, just in case he did come back and is asleep, not wanting to wake him. I notice the room has been cleaned since I was here before dinner. When I determine the main part of the suite is empty, I tiptoe into the bedroom and find the bed made up and undisturbed. I'm almost disappointed the evidence of our intimate afternoon has been eradicated. Like it never even happened.
The whisper of an ocean breeze caresses my skin, raising goose bumps, and I look to my right, finding the sliding glass door that leads to the bedroom balcony open. I walk toward it, but slow my gait when I realize he's there, sitting on the chaise lounge, looking troubled. I pause when I get outside, waiting for him to look up, but he doesn't.
"Sam." My voice is a shaky whisper, betraying the stress of the night.
He startles and turns to me, making to stand, but I gesture for him not to. Sam blows out a deep exhale, raking his fingers through his disheveled hair, before settling his hand on the back of his neck. His eyes skate around the balcony, meeting every surface but my eyes.
"Can I, uh, sit?" I ask trepidatiously. So much has happened in the past twenty four hours, and my earlier confusion over where we stand has only compounded and multiplied.
Sam's brow furrows, and he nods. I can't help but think how beautiful he is, how especially stunning he looks with his bemused expression, and my fingers itch to trace the soft crease of his forehead, but I don't. I'm not sure he wants me to touch him right now, since we haven't resolved our argument from earlier, even though I realize it's been overshadowed by what happened with Robin.
I settle on the foot of the same chaise, and Sam scoots back, bending his knees to make room. We're so close, but not touching, and it's strange considering how accustomed I've become to his casual touches, even before we hooked up. His fingers shove through his hair and his tongue slips out to unconsciously lick his bottom lip before he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, radiating intensity and resignation.
"I'm so damn sorry, Rory. I fucking saw you. Iknowyou, and I know you would never do that even if we-" He takes a deep breath and sighs. "I know you wouldn't just go hook up with some guy. Youcouldn't. But- "
"Sam-" I want to stop him. I don't need him to apologize for not having psychically known what was going on, and the last thing I want is for him to wallow in this self-recrimination when in fact he was the one whosavedme, but he rejects my interruption with a shake of his head.
"Rory, I don't even fucking recognize myself anymore. I don't want to be this guy. I don't want to give ultimatums, and the last thing I want is to cause you any more stress, but I can't do this with you."
My heart stops.This is it. I'm too much trouble; he's ending it.
"I want to give you all the time you need. I know this isn't easy for you, and I know how hypocritical this is. Especially after everything you told me abouthim- how possessive he was..." Sam scoots a little closer and takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. "But you don't know what you're doing to me - how I felt when I thought you were just with some other guy. I felt sick, Ror."
Now I'm the one who's confused.
