NORMAL (22 page)

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I demand.

"Wrong with
me
? You're the one who had a baby and tried to hide it! Look at her scar!" she screams to the crowd that has grown exponentially in the past minute.

She pushes me again and grabs for my hair, but I duck and block her. She's startled for a moment by my self-defense, and I take advantage of her surprise.

I punch her.

Chelsea holds her cheek that landed my fist before launching herself at me with a war cry. She slaps at my face, but I block her again and knee her in the stomach.

That's right bitch, I grew up playing with boys. And I know how to fight like one.

Chelsea is hunched over and I'm vaguely aware of the crowd's movement. Some flee to avoid the violence while shouting reports of a fight between Chelsea and the crazy new girl and my supposed C-section scar. Others flock toward the action.

I'm also somewhat aware that some of the new audience members include the male sex - in the girls bathroom - and I'm not wearing a shirt. But Chelsea swings another smack in my direction and I dart out of the way, but not before her nail makes contact with my chin and breaks skin.

"You fucking slut!" she screams. "Where's your baby?!"

"Fuck you!" I yell back, pushing her away from me.

We've squared off, and my back is to the only exit as well as most of our gaping peers.

Chelsea shoves at me again, claws out, and we grapple. She's scratching and slapping, but I'm punching with a closed fist just like my daddy taught me before he decided I wasn't worth a damn more than a whore linking him to a potential pro football player.

I kick her leg out from under her and she tumbles to the floor, giving me a moment to regroup.

I have a choice.

I can attack her when she's down, like she's attacked me in so many ways, or I can take the time to diffuse the situation. I can take the high road. I can be the bigger person. I can be a
better
person....

I attack.

I'm straddling her as my fists meet her flailing hands, landing a few good punches, reveling in the power of having the upper hand. So many times I'd been the weak one. So many times I'd been powerless against one hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle exerting its will over me.

But not now.

Now
I have my attacker where I want her.

We continue to sling bitter curses at one another as she fists my hair tightly, and I keep trying to get enough of a foothold to throw effective hits. The crowd does everything from cheer, to yell for us to stop, to shout suggestive comments, and in the back of my mind I realize that the scene is likely something of a wet dream for the boys lucky enough to have scored a front row seat to this clusterfuck.

"Shit!" I hear Tuck's voice through the commotion, but Chelsea and I still claw at each other, neither able to do much now besides defend ourselves.

I'm too busy trying to maintain the upper hand with my hair being clutched in a death grip to do any more real damage. Somewhere I hear Tuck calling out "Cap! Cap!" and as desperate as I am for Sam not to see this, for him to stay the fuck away from this pathetic shitshow, I can do nothing but continue to push and shove as we roll and grapple.

"Fucking whore!" Chelsea's voice is a high pitched, pained, screech of an accusation.

"Fuck-"

Strong, male arms envelop me and yank me off of her. I struggle against whoever has a hold of me, but I know it's him, even before I register his scent.

When did I become so sensitive to his scent?

He holds my arms to my side like a strait jacket, like I've been held before, but something about his embrace is intrinsically protective, and I'm not afraid of him.

I'm barely aware of my half naked state as I twist and turn, still enraged, unwilling to concede the first bit of power I've had in a physical altercation since I fought Chip over an argument about whether I was "out" or not after sliding home in the championship little league game when I was ten.

No!
I will not let that bitch get away with this! Not when
I
can overpower
her
.
Not when I'm finally the stronger one.

"Let me go!" I demand, still struggling against the restraint of Sam's arms, but they hold strong.

"No," Sam whispers calmly into my ear. "Not until you calm down."

Chelsea staggers to her feet, huffing and puffing. I'm practically gasping for air, but I'm still full of energy, still ready to take her down if she comes at me again.
If only Sam would just let me go!

"Cap! Thank God! She's fucking crazy!" Chelsea shouts.

I squirm again and Sam tightens his hold even more, not hurting me, but not giving me room to twist myself out of his grip.

"Calm down, Chel. What happened?" Sam asks calmly.

I'm panting, my chest heaving under his arms, covered by nothing but a black satin bra. He doesn't seem to notice.

"She attacked me!" Chelsea accuses.

"I did not!" I defend.
How fucking dare she?!

"Will you quit
squirming?
"
Sam hisses into my ear.

I do. Because the fight is over. My will is deflating. Goddamn it,
what is wrong with me?
This isn't me. I try to catch my breath as the humiliation of the situation washes over me. Sam doesn't relax his hold one bit.

"She's crazy, Cap! I told you she was hiding something! Look! She had a baby! Her C-section scar is right there!
Look!
"

I wait for Sam to look down at my hip, to see the ugly inch of jagged scar visible above the waistband of my yoga pants, but he doesn't. I can't see his face, but I imagine what he must be thinking right now and, despite the invalidity of Chelsea's accusations, I flood with shame.

"She threw my phone in the toilet! It's ruined!" she adds, as if this was the real violation here.

"You snuck into the bathroom to take pictures of me while I was changing!" I growl.

"Is that true?" Sam asks, horrified, when I've barely finished speaking. He loosens his hold marginally, allowing me a little slack, but doesn't release me.

"I knew she was hiding something. I needed proof," Chelsea explains, as if this is a reasonable excuse.

Suddenly Sam moves me slightly to his side, still holding me protectively, but he's no longer restraining me, and I can finally see his face. He's distressed beyond measure. His gaze scans the room and he takes in the crowd.

"Get out of here! All of you!" he demands, and makes some kind of nodding gesture to Tuck, who was silently looking on in horror, and Tuck seems to get the message. He springs to action, herding everyone out of the bathroom.

"What is wrong with you, Chel? What were you
thinking
?!" Sam chides. "Imagine if you were a guy? Sneaking into the bathroom to photograph an innocent girl changing?!"

"She's not innocent! She-"

"She's just a normal girl who came to the bathroom for privacy!
God,
Chelsea! I don't even know you anymore!"

That cuts her. The triumph drains from her face, replaced by terror as she realizes her plan has backfired.

The excitement from the fight has worn off, and tears sting my eyes. I'm trembling, and beads of cold sweat form on my forehead and chest. I'm once again reminded of my state of undress and I shiver.

Sam's accusing eyes reluctantly stray from Chelsea to worry for me. He releases me long enough to shrug off the button down shirt he's wearing over his tee, then holds it open for me to slip my arm into the sleeves. I blink and try to focus my racing thoughts. I have my gym tee. It's in the bathroom stall.

"I-"

"Just put on the damn shirt, Rory!" Sam demands, cutting me off.

I swallow nervously at his intensity as a tear slides down my cheek, but I obey, still mortified from the events of the day. I remember that we're not friends anymore, that I made it so, and wonder why he even came to my defense, yet again, when I've done nothing but spit in his face. I wonder if his anger is for me or for Chelsea, and decide it's probably both.

Wherever it's aimed, Sam is seething mad. He glares at Chelsea as he pulls the shirt closed in the front, and I take over, wrapping it around me tightly and hugging it to myself since there's no way I have the dexterity to work buttons right now. He glances down at me and his scowl falters. His arms wrap around me once again, and he pulls me to his chest, this time facing him. I take comfort in the protection, however fleeting it might be, and clutch the front of Sam's tee shirt as I begin to pathetically weep into it.

"Cap..." Chelsea's voice is unsure and pleading.

"Why? You need to start explaining, Chelsea, because right now it looks like you harassed and assaulted Rory for no Goddamn reason, and I don't give a fuck how long we've been friends-"

"She had a
baby
, Cap," she murmurs hesitantly. "She's manipulating you! Can't you see? She's the one who attacked me! I mean, you saw!"

"Just because she won the fight doesn't mean she started it, Chelsea."

"She didn't-"

"You're a stupid, stupid girl," I growl, turning my head to the side, unable to let them continue to talk about me like I'm not even here.

"Excuse me?" Chelsea snarls, her voice no longer hesitant now that she's addressing me and not her
Cap
.

"I will
not
excuse you! There
is
no excuse! You're a stupid girl and the sad part is, you're wastin' your time! If he doesn't want you it has nothin' to do with me!"

I can see her anxiety as she realizes where I'm going with this - that I've known her motivation all along.

"What are you talking about, Ror?" Sam asks and I turn back to him and pull back just enough to meet his eyes.

"She's in love with you. She's in love with you and she came after me because she's convinced herself that I'm the reason you don't want her," I explain. I turn back to Chelsea's mortified face. "But guess what... he doesn't want me either! We've never been anything more than friends, we'll never
be
anything more than friends! If he doesn't want you, then it has nothing to do with me!"

Sam's arms loosen, but he doesn't let me go. He's stunned, it's written all over his face. He had no idea how Chelsea felt about him.

Her emotions are clear too. For a moment, it looks like she might deny it, but then her eyes skate over Sam's position - his arms holding me - and they narrow.

"It doesn't look like you're just friends.
God,
Cap, I was just trying to protect you. I knew she was hiding something and I was right!" she accuses, pointing again to my hip, now covered by his shirt. Sam startles and he takes a step forward, and as he moves, I think he's about to release me to prove to Chelsea that there's really nothing between us, but instead he just shifts me so that he's holding me to his side with one arm.

"So it's true? You fucking attacked an innocent girl because you have a stupid
crush
?!"

Chelsea winces but then rallies for her own accusation.

"So it's true that you're falling for this damsel in distress act? Is
she
lying or are you really just friends?"

Sam's jaw clenches, and I feel his muscles tense.

"We are nothing more than friends," he says carefully. "Which is more than I can say for you and me."

"Cap!" Chelsea pleads.

"Just get the fuck out of here," he replies with a look of disgust. She doesn't move. "Now!" he barks, releasing me to point toward the exit.

Chelsea huffs and stalks indignantly out of the bathroom, leaving Sam raking his hair in frustration and me hugging his shirt protectively to my chest and trying in vain to keep my tears at bay.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

I nod, keeping my gaze averted.
I'm so not okay.

"
God
, Ror, I'm so sorry," he whispers.

My eyes shoot to his. "
Why?
Why are you sorry? All you did was help me. All you
ever
do is help me! And I've been nothing but a bitch to you...
I'm so fucked up,
" I sob defeatedly, unable to control my words as they flood my lips.

Sam's arms are back around me as I sob into his tee shirt. I release my hold on his other shirt, the one I'm wearing, to grasp the one he's wearing, just desperately needing to hold onto something. Some lifeline. And once again, that's Sam.

One of his hands soothes up and down my back while the other strokes my hair in comfort. And comfort me it does, and in that moment I realize, I'm too far gone. I can't let him go. I need Sam. I need him like air to breathe, and if his friendship is all I can ever have, then I'll cling to it, like I cling to his shirt.