"I don't need everyone's rooming arrangements. Just mine is fine, thanks," I say cheekily, and Sam nudges me with his shoulder. "But why are you rooming alone?"
Sam shrugs. "Not really interested in listening to Andy and Tina screw each other. Or Tuck and Carl for that matter," he makes a scandalized face and I giggle.
"Whatever, Super Tutor, see you at lunch," I reply and turn off into my next period class.
****
We all end up at the diner at lunch again, including Chelsea. I'm a little disconcerted by the way I catch her looking at me - less combative and more inquisitive. Everyone is talking about Miami. The clubs they want to hit, the boutique shops, the restaurants. Sam and Tucker talk about surfing while Dave makes suggestive comments about taking Lily jet skiing and how he'd be happy to take her "for a ride". As I've gotten to know Dave, I've learned he never misses a chance at sexual innuendo, and while I usually find myself rolling my eyes, Lily seems to find his comments complimentary.I guess there's someone for everyone.
Tuck tries to talk Carl into letting him teach her to surf, and Sam offers to give me a lesson, which I decline.
"She's from Florida. Why would she need a surfing lesson from you, Cap? She can probably ride big waves," Dave announces, smirking as he recognizes his lead-in for one of his trademark comments. "She can probably ride real big-"
"Damn it, Dave,will you shut the fuck up?!"Sam growls in my defense.
I grit my teeth, and I know anyone paying me any attention can sense my tension. I remind myself that Dave makes these comments to anyone and everyone whenever possible. It's not personal. It's not about me. But even when I've confirmed with myself that I'm fine, I realize Sam's still aggravated.
"Chill out, man. I was just sayin-"
"I know what you were fucking saying andI'msaying to back the fuck off. Could you show the girl some damn respect?Jesus." Sam runs his fingers through his hair in frustration.
Dave stares wide eyed, clearly surprised by Sam's defensive response, so accustomed to slinging whatever ridiculous comment that springs to mind without consequence. In fact, Sam usually laughs. Dave says nothing more, he just looks between Sam and me as if trying to figure something out, and it unnerves me. But beside me, Sam is still unsettled.
"I'm okay, it's fine," I whisper into his ear.
He meets my gaze to confirm this for himself. "Well it's not fine with me," he mutters under his breath. Under the table, Sam hesitantly takes my hand and I grab on to the lifeline.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Chelsea spying our interaction, as she always does, and it irks me. As it always does.
"So, Florida? Is that where you're from?" Chelsea asks, her tone dripping with false cheer.
I consider her a moment, wondering at her motivation, the direction of her inquiry, before tentatively nodding.
"I was just thinking, we don't really know anything about you..." Her words sound like an accusation and I keep silent as Sam glares at her.
Carl is the one to come to my defense. "Youdon't know anything, Chelsea, I've known Rory since I was like four." Carl is intentionally breezy, flippantly waving her hand as if to brush her off, but Chelsea doesn't relent.
"Is that so? How is that, since she lived down in Florida until a couple months ago?" she asks, still cheerily, as if she's genuinely just interested.
"Her grandma lived next to me. We used to play together when she came to visit," Carl explains.
"Hmm, so you hung out with her for what? One week out of the year? I'd hardly say you really knew her-"
It was two weeks, actually.
Carl narrows her eyes at Chelsea, and I'm vaguely aware that my grip on Sam's hand has tightened considerably.
"What is your point, Chel? Seriously, just get to it already," Sam demands, annoyed all over again.
"Well, Cap, I'm just trying to get to know Rory is all. I mean, we're all about to go on vacation with her, and what do we know about her really? She shows up in the middle of her senior year with no explanation and I'm just trying to figure out what she's hiding. After all, I don't want to go away with someone I don't even-"
"Then don't fucking come," I snap. I try to slide over to get out of the booth, but Sam is blocking me in. "Excuse me," I say, but 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.
