Carl is shocked. "Wait, wait... start from the beginning, why the hell would she take pictures of you changing? That's batshit crazy!"
"Yeah, no kidding. It was her whole 'I'm hiding something' thing from lunch. She... she saw my scar and photographed it."
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Carl screeches, outraged on my behalf. Sam doesn't leave, he just kind of hangs around looking between Carl and me, and I think he's surprised Carl knows about my scar at all. To be honest, I'm still surprised I showed it to her. She turns to address Sam. "And you saw all this, Cap?" she asks, skeptical, presumably as to why in the world he would be in the girls room in the first place.
Sam registers the accusation and holds up his hands as if in surrender. "No, no. I was walking toward the lot when people started shouting about a fight between Chel and Rory so I-"
"Came to the rescue, of course," Carl murmurs, not unkindly. Sam looks puzzled, of course he has no way of knowing about Carl's incessant observations about Sam's and my supposed mutual crushes. Though I've since realized my own isn'tsupposedso much asactual. Carl sighs. "Come on, Rory, I'll drive you home."
"I have my car," I reply, knowing I probably shouldn't drive right now.
"I'll get it home for you," Sam promises, and I meet his gaze.
"Thanks," I say meaningfully, for more than dealing with my car.
THIRTEEN
J A N U A R Y, L A S T Y E A R
THE PAST TWOweeks haven't been perfect, but they've had their good side. Ever since Robin and I worked things out he's been treating me like a priceless treasure. I've been spending a lot of time with him, some with the girls, and not enough with Cam. That bugs me, but I'm Robin's girlfriend and I know he should be my priority. And really, he is. And Cam is busy anyway, too. He's been spending more time with Missy, which pisses off Lacey, but it's better that way. If he and Lacey turned into something more I think it would be weird.
I still can't believe Robin loves me, but he does. He says it all the time, and shows it even more. He calls me his girlfriend now all the time, too, and he always has an arm around me or some other possessive hold, even in school, where he used to be less public with his affection. It's like he wants everyone to know that I'm his. And he's mine.
The only thing is, I'm still no closer to being ready to have sex with him. Even with the love. And I still don't know why. He got real frustrated with me about it last weekend. We argued, but the thing is, I don't even really blame him. He put my hand on him, and I tried to pull it away, but he told me that if I wasn't going to sleep with him yet, and I didn't want anyone else touching him, then I needed to take care of him.
I protested, but he took out his erection anyway, and wouldn't let go of my hand. He made it like he was showing me what to do, but really he was doing it himself with my hand, and he wouldn't let go until he was finished. I was upset, but after he just kept telling me how much he loved me and how good I'd made him feel, and I realized it really wasn't that bad. I was making a big deal out of nothing. True, I hadn'twantedto do it, but he didn't hurt me, not really - just my hand a little.
It wasn't so awful. What happened on Monday was worse. We were making out in his car and he'd climbed over the console so he was on top of me. He's done it many times, and usually he just gets frustrated with me and stops it before it gets out of hand. His words. He says if he gets too worked up, he won't be able to stop it. That's how it works with guys, I guess. Cam never told me anything like that, and he's told me plenty, but I guess it was never my business with him. Cam wasn't my boyfriend.
But Monday was different. Robin held my wrists again. He hadn't done that since that first night after the lake party, but he did it again. The thing is, when he holds my hands like that, I can't push his other hand away when he's doing something I don't like. And when I try to tell him to stop, he's so busy kissing me, and so forcefully too, that he can't understand what I'm saying. He pushed his hand under my skirt, and when I squirmed to try and get him to stop, I guess he took it as a sign that I was liking it, because he pushed his fingers into my underwear and then pushed one inside me.
It hurt. It hurt a lot, and he wouldn't stop until I managed to get a hand free and smack him.
I hadn't meant to smack him, I just wanted him to hear me - that I wanted him to stop. And he did stop then, but he was so mad that I'd hit him that that's what our argument became about. Robin was so fired up that for a few moments, I really thought he might hit me back. He punched the dashboard instead.
Repeatedly.
It was kind of scary, but he soon calmed down. I promised I'd never hit him again.
But the rest of the week has been great. He's picked me up every morning and driven me to school, and we've hung out afterwards every day as well. Yesterday Robin signed his contract with UFL, to communal fanfare, and Marcus is throwing a party tonight to celebrate since his parents are in Miami for the weekend.
I leave my jeep at home and wait for Robin to pick me up. We drop my weekend bag off at his parent's house before heading to the party. Robin lets me drive. He's making a statement by having me pull up to the party driving his car. It's the same statement he's been making everywhere and to everyone he could for the past two weeks. That I'm something special to him, his girl, and it makes me feel special.
When Robin starts on his third beer I stop sipping my first. Looks like I'll be driving home as well. I don't mind really, I don't especially want to drink, but I prefer when Robin doesn't either. I don't want to nag him, so I say nothing. It's strange - when he has one or two beers, he's fine. Great even. He's fun, and flirty, affectionate, and sweet. But for some reason, I've noticed that once he has beer number four, he starts acting different. He's more possessive, and not in a good way. Unreasonably jealous, too.
I hope he stops drinking soon.
I see Cam over in the corner of the crowded living room, sipping a beer and talking to some girl I don't recognize. She must be a freshman. I walk over to say hi and notice his hand is in her back pocket. I guess he and Missy are still just messing around if he's grabbing other girls' asses at parties.
"Rory girl!" he greets me, freeing his previously occupied hand.
I kiss his cheek. "Hey Cam. Didn't know you'd be here," I murmur. It's strange. He hasn't been at the last few parties, and I honestly thought it was because he was busy with Missy. But the weirdest part about the whole thing is that Cam and I don't just run into each other. We've always been in communication - known where the other was going to be, and usually, we'd go places together.
I guess everything is different now, and the thought unnerves me. I know it's normal, but it doesn't feel right. In fact, it feels all wrong.
"Why would you?" Cam replies and I glare at him, surprised by the uncharacteristic dig. Cam sighs. "Sorry, Ror, I didn't mean that."
I offer him a faint smile, because I know this is all hard on him, too. "You gonna introduce me to your friend?" I ask.
