I fight and scream and-
"Ror!"
I gasp for air.
"Rory, wake up!"
My eyes spring open.
I whimper and wheeze.
I'm on the plane. I fell asleep. It was just another nightmare.
Oh, God,and Sam saw it.
I should have known it was a dream when I continued to fight. When I didn't just give up.
"You're okay, it was just a nightmare," Sam says soothingly, stroking my hair with unfathomable tenderness. But his eyes are anything but calm. I've frightened him.
I'm mortified.
It's only then I realize that although I took care to sleep leaning into the plane window, I've ended up on the opposite side of my seat, clutching him desperately. I loosen the grip of my fingers and release his sweatshirt.
I look around to see if anyone else is staring at me, infinitely relieved to find I've only got the attention of Sam, at least for right now.
I swallow anxiously. "I didn't scream, did I?" I pray that whatever I said or did, it wasn't loud enough to garner widespread humiliation. I know I must sound desperate and frightened, but this isn't my first nightmare. Or my hundredth.
Sam follows my darting gaze. "No one else noticed," he replies, obviously recognizing my concern. But he still looks distressed.
"I, uh, sorry," I murmur, gesturing to where I clung to him in my sleep.
He looks at me like I'm crazy for apologizing to him.
"What did I, um, say?" I ask hesitantly.
Sam shoves his hand through his hair."God,Ror, you were sobbing and saying 'please' and 'stop'," he chokes out. His eyes are subtly glazed, and I wonder if he's holding back tears.God, I'm that pitiful.Without warning, he grabs me and tugs me to his chest, his long fingers threading through my hair. I allow myself thirty seconds to savor his embrace before I lift my head.
"I'm okay. It was just another nightmare," I assure him.
"You have them a lot?" he asks softly.
I let out an ironic, humorless laugh. "Only when I sleep."
"God, Ror." Sam's consternation is palpable.
"It's fine."
He looks at me in open awe. "It's sonotfine, butyou.. You're amazing, you know that?"
I look away. I'm many things, butamazingisn't one of them. "Can we just forget this happened?" I plead. I can tell he doesn't want to - that he wants every detail of the nightmare I just had, and probably every one I'veeverhad, but I can't give him that. "I, uh, need to use the bathroom," I murmur unconvincingly, and unceremoniously climb right over his lap and rush to the front of the plane, thanking God the lavatory is unoccupied.
I stay in the restroom more than fifteen minutes, until the flight attendant announces our initial descent into Miami. Sam makes no further mention of my nightmare. Instead, he goes on and on about our trip, and even gets me to agree to try jet skiing. The reformed tomboy in me can't wait.
SEVENTEEN
S P R I N G B R E A K, L A S T Y E A R
ROBIN HAS BEENtalking about Gainesville nonstop since my father gave him permission to take me. I've forced smiles and cursory conversation, and Robin has barely noticed. When he climbed on top of me in his car last night, I didn't fight him. I didn't even say 'no'. I didn't beg, I didn't plead, and I didn't scream. I just let him do it. But I couldn't stop my tears.
