"Sam, I think I'm okay, I just wanna get to bed," I murmur.
"That's the plan," he replies.
I eye the couch without enthusiasm. It does not look especially comfortable. Especially not with a big comfy king bed on the other side of the wall. I look longingly at the door that adjoins our rooms.I should have just listened to Sam.
While he goes back to use the bathroom I kick off my boots and socks. I can sleep in my tank top but...
I pad back into his bedroom.How come he gets to close the bathroom door for privacy?
Feeling like I'm doing something illicit I open the drawers in the bedroom chest and find his underwear in the second drawer. It's organized pristinely, every item - even his underwear - neatly folded. I feel a little naughty going through them - mostly boxer briefs - and I ignore the simmer of desire that reignites low in my belly. Sam was right, I do feel much better now that I've thrown up, but I'm thoroughly mortified. I find a pair of blue striped boxers and snatch them, scurrying out of the room before he can come out, and hastily close the door.
Once I'm back in the living room, I step out of my skirt and slip on his boxers. I take my bra off under my shirt and fold it neatly with my skirt on the arm of the couch. I slip under the blanket Sam laid out on the couch and curl up on my side. I was right, it is definitely not very comfortable, but it will do. I wonder if he will just go to sleep or come out and say goodnight. I'm not even sure which I prefer right now. I'm so damn embarrassed.
Operation: Normal Rory was a complete disaster. I don't know why I thought I could have even one night of happiness. Why I thought Sam would want to hook up with me in the first place. He's certainly never given me any indication he wanted me like that. I don't know what I was thinking. And then I threw up! Right in front of him.God, what is wrong with me?I close my eyes and drown in shame.
"What are you doing?" Sam asks. I hadn't even heard him come out of the bedroom. I don't answer, I just look up at him, confused. "You're not sleeping there," he says.
I sit up, humiliated once again. But he said he wanted to keep an eye on me and made up the couch, what else could that possibly have meant other than that he wanted me to sleep here?
"The couch is for me, Rory. You take the bed." He holds out his hand, anticipating my argument. "Not a chance. Come on, Ror, let me be a gentleman."
"I wish you were less of a damn gentleman," I grumble under my breath. Maybe then he wouldn't have stopped whatever it was that might have happened between us earlier.
Sam chuckles, though I didn't mean it to be funny, and I take his proffered hand and climb from the couch. His breath catches as he looks me over.Whoops.I forgot I stole his underwear.
"Sorry," I murmur as I drag my feet to the bedroom.
"Help yourself," he says with another easy chuckle, following right behind.
I turn down the cover and crawl into the big, comfy bed. "You gonna tuck me in?" I tease.
"Something like that... You're okay, right? That I'm here, I mean."
I'm surprised that after everything he's still worried I might panic. Not even close. I lie down, rolling to face him. "Yeah, Sam. I've told you, I trust you. I'm pretty sure you can't trigger me anymore. Not unless you did something intentionally to."
"I wouldnever-"
"I know."
Sam sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. He leans down and brushes a soft kiss to my forehead. It's somehow both intimate and chaste, but unfathomably affectionate. It warms my heart that he still cares for me after tonight's embarrassing display. He's an infinitely good friend, and I try not to imagine him as something more.
"Goodnight, Ror. Look, if you wake up and you don't feel well, or you need something - anything - wake me up, okay? I mean it," he says softly.
"Thanks," I breathe.
Sam smirks. "I got you, Pine. What-"
"are friends for, I know."
And with that, he leaves, shutting the door gently behind him.
****
The championship game is over. Sam hugs me and smiles. We've won. He's happy.
Robin glares at me from across the field. He scowls. We've lost. He's angry.
"Don't leave me alone," I plead to Sam.
