I'm worried that she'll beembarrassed after last night.I know her, and I know she's probablyfreaking out over the thought of seeing me at school today.Thethought makes my chest ache even more.I fucking hate the idea ofher wanting to avoid me.And that's exactly what I did to her.I amsuch a fucking dick.
Chapter Thirteen
Ialmost didn't come to school today.I can't believe Iactually said those things.I can't believe I actually called astrange girl a slut to her face!But I'm not sure I wouldn't do itagain, even if I were sober.Every time the memory pushes it's waythrough my mind—them flirting, the thought of where it might haveled had I not interrupted them with my drunken outburst—it makes mystomach roll.
Despite my mortification,my outburst isn't what haunted me all night.Nor was it Sam's fightwith Drunk Stranger Asshole.Honestly, the guy had it coming.Hewas incredibly forward, and he grabbed my wrist—I almostpanicked.
A large part of me isupset—and not at Sam, at myself—because he has, once again, puthimself at risk over me.And that is what I don't want.Sam introuble because of me.
But what I couldn't stopthinking about was Sam believing I flinched because I was afraidofhim.Because Ithought he might hit me.That I see him as some kind of brutalmonster, because he's been violent before, and because he defendedme last night, again.But I'm not mad at him for being violent.Thetruth is I can't help but be grateful that he'd helped me.BecauseIhadbeenfrightened.But not of Sam.
And so I came to school inthe end.I still haven't seen him, even though the last period ofthe day just ended.
I slip my boots back onafter I change out of my sneakers.They're the only thing I stillchange for phys-ed, since after the incident with Chelsea I startedwearing yoga pants or sweats on gym days.I pull my hair out of theloose braid I'd tied it in for gym and head out of the girl'sroom.
"Ror."
He's there when I turnaround, and somehow my heart races and my breath slows at the sametime.
"I owe you an apology,"Sam's low timbre affects me as much as his words shock me."Several, in fact."
I hear his words,lovehis words, and atthe same time I can't get past the ones flying around my own head.I try to interrupt, desperate to get my point made first.It's tooimportant to wait, no matter how badly I want to hear what he hasto say.
"Sam, I—" But heinterrupts.
"For losing my cool, for mydrunken tantrum, but… for pushing you away.It was selfish,and you deserve better—"
"That'snothow I see you."Ican interrupt too, and I can't let him keep talking until I tellhim this.Sam's brow furrows, confused, which is understandablesince I've just carried on our conversation from last night as ifthere were no break.But there hasn't been a break for me, Ihaven't stopped thinking about it."You think I think you're likethem because you've fought?"My narrowed eyes widen with emotion."But every time, Sam, you were fightingfor me," I remind him.
Sam blinks at me and Iknow he's having trouble accepting my words, understanding thesignificant distinction between violence alone and violence indefense of another, but it doesn't make them any lesstrue.
"That'show I see you.That'swhat youdo.Youprotectme… No one's ever been therefor me like you, Sam.Even my own father did the opposite.And…" Itrail off, thinking about Cam, and how unfair it is for me toresent his abandoning me when he had no choice in the matter—whenhe lost his life.But the truth is I do feel that way.All I wantedwas his comfort, but he risked everything, driving out in thatprecarious storm to go after Robin his way.Even if he hadsucceeded, he could have ended up in jail, and that would have beenmy fault too.Either way, I end up alone.
Sam chooses differently.Every time.He respects my wishes, honors my choices.When weargued over Robin's Facebook photo, about Sam's intentions, hepromised he wouldn't go after Robin, even if he admitted he wantedto.Sam only ever acted rashly when he thought me to be inimmediate danger.And how could I begrudge him that?Especiallywhen I'd be lying to say I hadn't always desperately wanted thatkind of support, the sense of security it invokes.
"That'show I see you.As the man who saved my life inthat alley.Who I can count on.No one can take that away fromyou," I promise.
No one can take that awayfrom me.
God,he said those exact words when he was being all smug overgiving me my first—and second, and third—orgasms.There's so muchSam will always be to me that no one can take away from him.Noteven me
And that's when it hitsme.
What am I doing?What thehell is wrong with me?
Sam isn't Robin.His lovedoesn't come with conditions, like obedience and submission, oreven being in a relationship.I ended things with Sam to keep himsafe from any danger my past—or apparently my present—might cause.But it hasn't done that.Sam was never going to stop looking outfor me just because we're not together.He would always protect me.I know it in my heart.Because last night in the bar I didn'tflinch because I was afraid of whathemight do.I flinched because I amso in tune with Sam, trust him and his reactions so implicitly,that his anger made me think therewassomething else to fear.Becausewhy would he be angry if all was well?
Sam is my anchor.And Ithrew him away.
Only, Sam still didn'tabandon me.He kept his promises about protecting me and keeping mesafe, even though I tried to take that right away from him.But Icouldn't.
"Shit, Ror.You're making me feeleven worse than I already did.I was looking for you to apologize."He rakes his hand through his hair "I'm supposed to be your friendand I fucking abandoned you just because it didn't work out with,you know,us."
The way he's actingterrifies me.He's hurt me plenty in the past couple of weeks, buthe always had that hopeful longing in his eyes when he looked atme, when he talked to me.But now, it's dulled somehow.Likethere's something new clouding it… Acceptance.
"Do you… do you think it'stoo late?"My voice almost doesn't come out at all.It's nothingmore than a tremulous whisper, but I know he hears.
His entire demeanorchanges immediately.It morphs before my eyes.Like he's instantlyon edge.
