He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and I moan, unabashed. The sound encourages Sam, who takes two steps forward toward the wall and I move with him until I feel a desk or table of some kind behind me. With no effort at all, Sam lifts me and sets me on its edge, pressing himself against me, never ending his kiss. I open my legs so he can get closer. I need him closer. He complies, but he's being careful, and I can feel him everywhere except the one place I really need him. I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him as close as physically possible, and I moan again as I feel confirmation that he really does want me.
I'm aware that I'm "asking for it". I'm giving him more of a green light than I ever gave Robin, and though I know I'm probably coming across like some wanton slut, I can't bring myself to care. I know that come tomorrow I will be hurt. I know I'm falling in love with my friend, and I also know nothing has changed. He doesn't return my feelings, and why should he?
This version of me - this version that goes out and gets drunk with her friends, who gives into her attraction and feelings and has the courage to kiss the boy she's been pining over - this Rory is an illusion.
I know Sam could never want the real Rory. I know he deserves more even if he could. More than a broken, damaged mess. But tonight, just for one night, I can still be Normal Rory. I can allow myself this glimpse of what it could've been like if I'd never said yes to that first date with Robin. If I went to NYU and maybe just met Sam in New York by chance. If I was really just a normal girl and he could want me.
I've never been kissed like this. Only once had it ever felt close, but it wasn't like this. And Robin - even in the beginning, before things went bad, never elicited these feelings in me, in my body or my heart. I'm desperate to know what it feels like when I'm not being forced. When I really want the person I'm with.
I kiss Sam back with all the passion I possess, running my hands up the front of his tee shirt, and I shiver again at the feel of his hard muscles. I can feel his erection firm between my legs, and a heat I've never felt before. Anache. And I know without a doubt that here and now with Sam, the act that's only ever caused me unimaginable suffering with Robin, is the one thing that can soothe that ache.
I rock my hips into him.
Sam makes a deliciously amorous sound before he unexpectedly tears his mouth from mine and wrenches from my grip. He takes two steps back from me and I sit on the table where he's set me, trying to catch my breath. Sam does the same, panting for air, and we blink at each other, like we don't know what just happened.
But I know exactly what happened. And I know before he speaks he's going to apologize, to try and back track, but I won't let him. I want this.
"God, Ror, I'm sorry. I-"
"Ikissedyou."
Sam stares at me, confused, like he's inwardly grappling with something profound. I know he doesn't want to lead me on - doesn't want to mess with our friendship - and I get all of that. Ido. But my feelings for him, they'remyproblem, not his. They shouldn't preclude us from doing this, not right now when we both want it. At least Ithinkwe both want it...
"Rory, you'redrunk.Whether you kissed me first or not, I shouldn't have let that happen. You're my friend." His words are shrouded in guilt.
I slide off of my perch and cover the distance between us, looking intently into his eyes so he knows I mean what I say. "Please, Sam. So, I'm drunk. Sowhat?Half the girls in Miami hookin' up with strangers tonight are drunk. And you ain't a stranger - you're my friend. I trust you." I look up at him through my lashes. I tentatively run my hands up the front of his shirt, just feeling his body under my fingertips. "It's not like I'm a virgin. You don't need to worry. I've never felt this way before, please, I just wanna know what it feels like to do it becauseIwanna do it. Because it makesmefeel good. Please, Sam." I say the last part in a whisper and lean up to kiss him softly.
When he doesn't immediately push me away I move my lips a little more surely, but he only reciprocates for a moment before gently grabbing my wrists to stop the exploration of my fingers, and pulling his mouth away. His expression is a mixture of concern and confusion. I stumble a step before catching my footing.I really am drunk. And actually a little dizzy.
"What do you mean you want to do it becauseyouwant to do it? What other reason is there?"
I shrug. I don't understand why we'retalkingabout this when we could bedoingit, and I want to get this conversation over with quickly and see if I can get him to kiss me back again.
"You know,because. Because I had to. It ain't like I always got a choice," I murmur. "But now Iwantto. I've never wanted-"
"What do you mean you had to? That you didn't have a choice?" he interrupts, and he's suddenly too serious.
Did I just say something I shouldn't have?
My mind is cloudy with alcohol, and with all of the secrets I've confided to Sam, and all the ones I'm still keeping, I'm not sure which is which right now.
"Rory. What did you mean?" He asks slowly and carefully.
I don't know what I meant. I honestly don't even remember exactly what it is Isaid. My stomach turns as the dizziness in my head conspires with the nausea in my belly to make me feel ill, and I close my eyes briefly to get it all to settle and try to focus on the here and now. "I just meant... that right now, drunk or not, I know what I want, and I want-" My words are cut off with a gag. Oh, shit.
Sam's face is etched with worry and I'm no longer confident that I can push this sick feeling back down.
"Ror? Ror, are you okay?"
The room spins and all I can do is squeak out "sick" before my legs give out. Sam catches me with a muttered curse and I'm suddenly held to his chest, my legs dangling over one of his strong arms as he makes his way to the bathroom. He sets me down on the side of the tub and I clutch the tile edge as tightly as I can to hold myself in a sitting position. Sam's doing something, but I can't see what, I'm too busy trying to figure out if closing my eyes makes it better or worse.
Oh,God,worse. Definitely worse.
The faucet turns on and off, and then Sam is kneeling in front of me and pressing a cool, wet, washcloth to my forehead.
"Fuck, Ror, you only had three drinks at the bars. You didn't take any drinks from anyone else, did you?" he asks, obviously deeply worried.
I shake my head.I didn't. "No, you told me not to," I assure him shakily. He runs his fingers through his hair, and vaguely I wonder if it's really that big of a deal. I mean it's a rite of passage for every normal teenager to drink too much and get a little sick, isn't it?
