It hits me like a brick wall.
Of course.
Sam.
Why I didn't realize it immediately, I'll never know. The only way they'd all turn on their Queen, is if they were directed to by someone with more power - their King.
Cap.
Once again, he's defended me. He's cleaned up my mess, fixed my problems.
I want to be angry with him for doing all this behind my back without even discussing it with me, but I can't. I can already hear him say "I got you Pine", or "what are friends for?"
And maybe they are. Maybe this is what it's like to have friends -real friends -who stand by you and back you up when you need them most. I look across the couch at Carl, who’s still just casually munching away. She's the first real girl-friend I've ever had, and I'm eighteen years old. She doesn't judge me - doesn't keep me around to keep an eye on me, or because of some ulterior motive. And last year, when everything went down, the one person I was sure would always stand by me left me all alone to fend for myself before I ever knew what it felt like to have that kind of support system.
I launch myself at Carl and assault her with a hug. She yelps in surprise before returning my embrace.
"Thanks Carl," I murmur, "You don't know how much it means to me to have you as a friend."
She squeezes me back. "I got your back, Rory."
And I believe her.
****
Carl left to go back to school before lunch period ended. The relief from not having to deal with the rumors I'd been expecting has washed over me, and I breathe more deeply. Now all I have to worry about are the school's disciplinary repercussions, but truthfully, that was never my biggest concern. On her way out, Carl admitted she fabricated the part of the rumor about Sam and me being in love in an effort to tease me/ get me to admit to my crush, which I proceeded to deny as usual. I have to admit, I was surprised by the small pang of disappointment I felt at hearing this. I'd wondered why, if Sam had been behind the direction of the rumors, they would include him and I having feelings for one another. For a moment I wondered if maybe I wasn't the only one feeling this way. But Carl's confession made sense, and I'm back in the safe reality ofjust friends.
The only other issue is spring break. There is absolutely no way I can go away with Chelsea, and though I know Carl and Tina, and probably Sam, will be disappointed, I think they'll understand why I can't come with them.
The afternoon has flown by, and I put down my book and decide to bake another batch of muffins since Carl ended up eating three. I flip my iPod back on, and start singing out loud and dancing to 90's Green Day. I've just put a batch in the oven and I'm screaming about having no motivation when the doorbell chimes once again.
I look at the clock and realize school got out about ten minutes ago and it's probably Carl coming back to check on me.
"One second!" I call out, and wipe my hands on a dishtowel as I walk to the door, still dancing to the music.
I swing open the door and freeze.
It's Sam.
And I was bopping my head and singing about howmasturbation's lost its funas I opened the door. I blush bright red, but Sam has a giant grin plastered across his face.
"You know, I was a little worried about you after yesterday, but you seem to be having a good time playing hooky, huh, Ferris Bueller?" he drawls from my front step.
I wipe my hands again on the dishtowel before stuffing it into the pocket of my apron. I'm once again taken with how attractive he is. It's warmer today than it's been lately, and Sam is channeling a modern day James Dean in a simple jeans and fitted tee ensemble, complete with a leather jacket. I'm struck by his effortless beauty. It's just not normal.
"Uh... do you wanna come in?" I offer shyly. I don't know why I suddenly feel so shy with him, but I do.
He hesitates. "Is that okay? I just wanted to check on you. We could talk out here if you want," he offers.
He thinks he’ll make me uncomfortable if he comes inside. He's worried about me freaking out about being alone with him, and vaguely, I wonder why I'm not. But I'm not. "Yeah, come on in." I hold the door open for him, and Sam walks slowly into the house that still doesn't feel like home. It's a modest house. Less than a third of the size of his own, which is pretty enormous. My mom bought it with the divorce settlement. It was less than she deserved, but she just wanted it over quickly, so she agreed to a lump sum that was probably about half of what she'd have gotten if she'd fought my dad in court. By that time my father was eager for us to leave since we'd become such pariahs, at least in his circle, or I bet he'd have tried to ensure she received even less.
We bought this house sight unseen. Karen came and took photos for us, and really, we only needed something small and simple for the two of us. My mom's only requirement was that it be in a safe neighborhood and within the Port Woodmere school district. And that's precisely what we got. It's a standard center hall colonial, nearly identical to the thirty others on the block just like it. I watch as Sam looks around. There are a few photos of me as a kid and a couple of me and my mom, but not much. We've only just moved in a few months ago, and it shows.
Sam turns around to face me and smirks. He reaches toward me and I swallow nervously, anticipating the warmth that I know will spread through me at his touch.
His thumb brushes the tip of my nose and I bite my lip, realizing how much I'd like for him to kiss me, to taste his lips, and also realizing how much the thought frightens me.
He pulls his thumb, now white with powder, back away. "You've got flour on your nose," he explains before reaching back and swiping his thumb across my cheek. "Here, too."
