Could it be possible that Kendall is seeing the same thing in her friend that Carl saw in me?
I stop myself. I shouldn't let myself hope for such things - there's just no point. Because even in some crazy world where Sam could want me, it could never be enough. My feelings are too strong; I'm in too deep. And I'm not girlfriend material, even if he would ever want me as one. I'm just too fucked up, and he knows that better than anyone. He's seen my panic attacks, witnessed my nightmares, knows my triggers, seen my scars.
No. He could never want that. Who would choose that? And he doesn't deserve it even if he could. He deserves a normal girl. And, of course, there's his "no girlfriends in high school" rule.
"You and Kendall are really just friends?" I ask so softly I'm not even sure he heard me.
"Yeah, Ror. I mean, I'm not gonna lie to you, we used to hook up. But it was just that, a hookup. Physical. Kendall's got a boyfriend now - a serious one. She's in love. It was never like that with us. She's a good friend."
The relief I feel is just more evidence of how out of hand my feelings have grown. I want to ask him if it would actually make him jealous if I were to go out with Randy, but I don't. I'm not sure I'd want to hear the answer.
We meet up with everyone at the bar and pile into three taxis to head to the Mexican restaurant for dinner. I'm not usually a drinker, but since everyone ordered pitchers of sangria, I decide to have a glass. I've never had it before and it's actually really good, sweet, so I doubt it has too much alcohol.
A few glasses later and dinner is over. Everyone is having a ball - laughing, joking. Andrew and Tina are kissing, and Tuck and Carl are arguing over gender normative practices and feminine independence and who should pay the check on a date.
Lately every issue that's come up has turned into a full blown battle of wills between those two and it's getting kind of old. I wish they'd simply profess their love for one another and put the rest of us out of our misery. Because it's obvious as hell to everyone but them.
By the time we're at the third bar of the night, it's clear it's where we'll be ending the night. Everyone's drinking and dancing and flirting, and I doubt anyone would even recognize the change in venue if we did decide to go somewhere else. Carl and Tuck have gone from making out in the first bar, to screaming at each other in the second, to a mixture of both now.
I watch Tina and Andrew climb into a cab to go back to the hotel and I've no doubt as to what they're up to.
True to his word, Sam has barely left my side all night. As Carl predicted, I have garnered more attention than usual from the opposite sex, but I'm confident it has more to do with the amount of alcohol they've consumed and their desperation for a random hookup than with my appearance tonight.
The few guys who had the nerve to hit on me in spite of Sam's bodyguard-like proximity all night were let down easy either by me or Sam. The one guy who took hold of my arm and almost caused me to panic nearly got his ass kicked before I could talk Sam down, which in itself distracted me from panicking.
Bottom line: I'm having fun. Other bottom line: I'm drunk.
It turns out that new Normal Rory goes out and gets drunk with her friends. I giggle at the thought and Sam shoots me an inquisitive look.
"You, my friend, are drunk," he observes dryly as he leads me out of the bar to hail a cab, and I giggle again.Who knew I could be so giggly?
In fact, I'd probably be even drunker... more drunk? Whatever, I'd be completely hammered if Sam hadn't cut me off and insisted I'd had enough about thirty minutes ago. Instead, I'm delightfully tipsy.
"So are you," I reply as he slips an arm around my waist to help me walk straight. I cuddle into him and inhale his scent, now complemented with a little liquor and smoke from the bars.
Sam chuckles. "Actually I'm not. I only had a couple, and I can hold my liquor better thansomepeople," he teases. Sam helps me into the cab and slides in behind me. I look him over. No, he's right, he does not appear to be especially drunk, and I giggle again. Sam grins. "You're a cute drunk," he murmurs.
"You're cute all the time," I counter. I'm vaguely aware I shouldn't be saying this out loud, but right now, I just don't care.
"Yeah? You think?" he asks.
I narrow my eyes at him and purse my lips exaggeratedly. "You know you're gorgeous. You ain't foolin' me," I hold my chin high in challenge. He's not going to trick me into showering him with compliments. He's an Adonis, he knows it, I know it, and I know he knows it. He isn't blind, after all.
Sam laughs a full, head thrown back, eyes closed chuckle and I giggle in turn, not even knowing what's funny. "I didn't know you thought so, Rory. Anything else you want to share while you're feeling generous with information?"
I bite my lip and think a few moments. "I love Carl," I tell him.
Sam's eyebrows shoot into his hairline. "Is this where you tell me you like girls?" he asks and it sounds like he's only half kidding. "Cause I won't judge-"
"No, shh, don't interrupt!" I whine.
Sam makes a gesture like he's locking his lips and throws away the invisible key, still making an only mildly successful attempt to hide his amusement.
"I love Carl, she's been a real good friend to me, but... you're my best friend. Not her,you," I confess. Sam's face softens, draining of mirth, and he smiles almost shyly. He opens his mouth, but before he can respond, I blurt out, "and you're super hot," and we both laugh again. I realize my accent is also extra prevalent when I've been drinking and make a mental note to try and remember that.
"I like drunk Rory," Sam says with another chuckle.
I scowl at him. "And what? You don't like sober Rory?" I pout.
