NORMAL (9 page)

Robin shrugs, and if I'm not mistaken, he seems a little unsure of himself. I couldn't possibly make him nervous,
could I?

"I like talkin' to you."

I smile. I like talking to him too. He takes my smile as agreement and, holding my hand, starts leading me down the road, away from my house. There's only four houses on the block including mine and Cam's. We pass them and come up to the entrance to the park I spent so many hours in as a child. I look down at our hands, fused together, and I'm struck by how tiny my hand looks in his. I'm not petite, for a girl anyway, but at six foot one, Robin dwarfs me. He's no taller than Cam, but for some reason, next to him, I feel every inch of his stature. Robin notices me looking at our hands and smiles, bringing them up to press his lips to my knuckles. It sends a shiver up my arm.

"Your hand looks real good tucked in mine, Rory," he murmurs. We stop walking and he turns and takes a small step so that he's right in front of me, my back facing the huge old oak that Cam and I carved our names into as children. "I'm gonna kiss you now, sweetheart," he whispers, but waits. For what, I don't know. I think he's reading my reaction, but I meet his gaze, practically daring him to make good on his promise.

And he does.

At first Robin brushes his lips lightly against mine, and it's barely a kiss, but I feel the sweetness of it everywhere. He presses his lips to mine and holds them there for a second before he moves them up and down, gently sucking my bottom lip between his. I reciprocate. I'm not even thinking about it, but I'm matching the movement of his lips as he continues moving his mouth over mine. It feels really nice. Different than I expected... sweeter. Then his tongue is there, softly licking between my lips, and I heed his silent request to open. He swipes his tongue into my mouth, slowly, but it's still his lips doing most of the work. They're wet and soft and I'm liking the way they make me feel. His hands are firmly planted on my waist, and, open, they span almost my entire stomach and back. His fingers move in rhythm with our mouths, but they stay in safe places, never moving too high, or too low.

I tentatively meet his tongue with my own, and we stay there like that for long minutes, exploring each other's mouths. I'm completely lost in the kiss, and practically of their own volition, my hands slide from where they're gripping his biceps up his broad shoulders and neck, until their grasping at his hair, holding his mouth to mine. Robin groans and pulls away, breathing hard, and I'm practically gasping for air, leaning back against the oak for support.

Robin's hands fall to his sides as he takes two purposeful steps back like he can't get away from me fast enough. I'm suddenly unsure of myself, surprised by the sudden interruption to something I'd thought he'd been enjoying. Things were going so well. Better than I ever even imagined. Familiar insecurity sweeps through me, but I've never been one to shy away from getting answers.

"Did I... do something wrong?" I ask hesitantly.

Robin is still catching his breath, and his expression morphs from intense to confused and then back again.

"No, sweetheart. Not wrong. Too right," he murmurs. I blink at him.
What the hell does that mean?
Robin sighs. "That was... amazing. You're amazing. But I don't wanna get carried away. And it'd sure be easy to get carried away when you kiss me like that."

If I wasn't still flushed from our heated kiss, I'd blush now. Robin's lips twist up into a smile, and I realize it's because I'm smiling. But too quickly, his smile fades and instead, he scowls.

"Where'd you learn to kiss like that? Not from Foster I hope."

I giggle, surprising myself. I've never been a giggly girl. I shake my head. "No of course not!"

Robin takes a step closer to me, but not as close as before when we were kissing. "You two are really just friends?" His tone is almost accusatory, and I'm a little thrown. It's as if he wasn't sure he believed us before either, but he's only just decided he really cares one way or another. "He's never kissed you ever, or anything?"

I shake my head, grateful to Cam that I can do so without lying - only the case because he refused to teach me how to kiss earlier today. Robin narrows his eyes at me like he's trying to work out whether I'm being truthful. I look down at my ballet flats.

"No one's ever kissed me before," I admit in a timid whisper.

"Never?" Robin asks, incredulous, and I shake my head in confirmation. "Well how is that possible?"  

I shrug, unsure if his question is rhetorical or not.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he demands, taking both my hands in his. "I'm your first kiss?"

I nod again.

"Well now I can't stop wondering if your second kiss will be as incredible as the first," he murmurs before once again covering my mouth with his.

It is.

He pulls away with a wide, triumphant grin. I'm sure it mirrors my own.

"Come on, we should get you home before your daddy starts to worry," he says and takes my hand to lead me back toward my house.

"He won't," I reply under my breath.

We get back to my driveway and I tell him I'm going to go around back since we never lock the back door and I never carry keys. Robin plants a chaste kiss on my lips and I smile.

"Look, sweetheart, I get that Foster is your buddy and all, but the next time I come pick you up to take you out, I ain't gonna take too kindly to another man comin' down from your bedroom with you, alright?"  

I nod. It's not unreasonable, but I'm more focused on the fact that he said there will be a next time. "Goodnight," I murmur. Robin smiles wickedly and presses me against his car.

He kisses me again, and pushes his tongue gently into my mouth before pulling away.

I can't help myself, I sigh.

"Goodnight sweetheart."

I walk around the house and, before I round the corner, I spare a glance back to see him standing by his car door, waiting until I'm out of sight.

I sit down on the steps to my back porch, just needing a minute to myself, and listen to Robin's car drive off. Not five minutes later I hear another car pull up and wonder if Robin's returned for some reason. I creep to the side of the house and see that it's just Missy dropping off Cam. She gets out of her car to say goodnight. Cam grabs her and kisses her, and it's totally unlike Robin. Cam's almost disinterested about it, and yet his hand goes straight to her breast, the other to her ass, and Missy just presses her undeniably impressive body further into him.

"Think we can hang out again tomorrow?" she asks - I can just make their voices out. Cam shakes his head. "Nah, I got plans." He offers her no further explanation.

"Oh yeah? With who?" She puts her hand on her hips, but Cam turns away from her to jog toward his back door.

"None of your damn business," he calls back to her, but he’s smiling. That's Cam - he can say the rudest things to girls, but through that crooked smile of his, he can get away with anything.

He turns toward my back porch instead of his and catches me snooping, though I don't even try to hide it.

"Hey there, Nancy Drew," he grins, slinging an arm around my shoulders as he walks me toward my door.  

"Have fun with Missy?" I ask sweetly.

His smile shifts into a smirk. "Sure did." He swings my back door open, grabs a box of Oreos from my kitchen pantry, and follows me quietly up the steps to my bedroom.

I take a makeup remover wipe and start taking off my mascara. "Do you ever take her out or you just hook up?" I ask.

"Her?" he asks, stuffing a cookie into his mouth whole.

"Yeah,
her
. Missy. Lacey, whoever." I watch Cam through my vanity mirror. He's had some drinks tonight, but not too much, I can tell by the slight gloss of his eyes, but they remain in focus.

"Now what would be the point of that?" he asks and I roll my eyes. "So tell me about your date. He act like a gentleman?" Cam's voice only thinly veils the inherent threat in the question, and I roll my eyes again. "Ror, I mean it. He behave?"

Makeup free, I join him on the bed. "I can't believe you threatened him!"

Cam doesn't skip a beat. "Of course I threatened him," he deadpans.

I sigh. "He was a perfect gentleman, Cam."

Present day

F
riday has dragged on. I'm even less excited for tonight's party at Andrews than I was for the last one because tonight won't be a big rager, it will be a smaller get-together. Only about thirty or so seniors, according to Tina - their "friends". I tried to make an excuse not to go, but Carl gave me her pouty face, and Dr. Schall had given me such approval when I mentioned it during our session yesterday, and God knows how desperate I am for male approval...

But all I can think is how it's a great deal easier to remain invisible at a party of a hundred than at a "small get-together".

However, the weekend won't start just yet. Now that the last bell of the day has rung, I head back to room 313 to see who's been assigned as my student tutor for calculus for the next month. The tutors and tutorees will meet up now and make arrangements for our sessions going forward, and since we have a quiz on Monday, I'm hoping my tutor will have some time right now to go over a few things with me.

There are a few students lingering in front of the door to the classroom, and as I approach I can see the list is tacked to it. I also can't help but notice Sam leaning against the adjacent wall of lockers with his arms crossed, waiting. I hastily look away, though I'm almost positive he was looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

"You're mine," he murmurs as I pass him.

His words make me freeze. I swallow anxiously and turn to him before I even reach the list. Those words - they are a trigger, and as I feel my heart rate accelerate, I force myself to take even breaths.

Those words.

But in Sam's voice, for some inexplicable reason, they don't threaten me.   

"Excuse me?" I say tremulously.

He cocks an eyebrow at me, like he's sizing me up.

I will not freak out, I will not freak out.

"You're my tutoree."

I exhale. "Oh."

Damn it.
This isn't going to work. For one, how the hell am I supposed to concentrate on calculus with those midnight blues and those full pink lips just inches from my face? Not to mention that chiseled jaw...

All of that is beside the point, of course, since Sam has made it pretty clear he wants nothing to do with me. He hasn't said a word to me all week and it's obvious that since our interaction at last week's party he's realized that there is nothing appealing about a friendship with a girl who has panic attacks, snaps at people, and slaps them for no apparent reason. Truthfully, I don't blame him.

He smirks at me and reveals a perfect dimple I haven't noticed before. I force myself to gather my wits before I start drooling.

"I'll, uh, see if someone will switch," I offer.

I'm surprised by Sam's resulting scowl. "Why?" he asks. From his tone, it would seem I've offended him. Again.

I shrug. "Um... I don't know, I didn't think you'd want to, you know, tutor me." I tuck my hair behind my ear and look down. This is awkward. Everything about me is awkward.

"And
why
wouldn't I want to tutor you, Rory?" he asks. His question is an earnest one and I blink back at him, bemused.

"Well, you've been ignoring me, so I just figured..." I trail off. He's looking at me like my words are irritating him. I'm trying to give him an out from doing something I'm sure he doesn't want to do, so why that would bug him, I can't imagine.

"You can't be serious," he murmurs. When I just continue to blink at him he continues. "Rory I haven't been ignoring you, I just backed off because I thought that's what you wanted."

"What I wanted?" I ask, confused.

"Well you did say we couldn't be friends. And I thought... I don't know, I thought we were becoming friends anyway, at Andrew's party last week, but then you told Chelsea you didn't even
know
me. If anything,
you're
the one blowing
me
off." He shrugs. "It seems like you have a lot on your plate, I didn't think adding a stalker who couldn't take a hint would be very expedient, so I backed off."

You seem like you have a lot on your plate.
This is his nice way of saying I'm batshit crazy.

But
damn
, he was trying to be respectful by giving up on this
friends
thing. And I've been stressing about it, though I didn't want to admit it to myself. God, I just can't get it together - first I ask him to leave me alone, then I'm upset when he does. I suppose the concept of a man respecting my wishes, taking me at my word... these are completely novel to me. And how fucked up is that?

"Oh," I whisper.

"I'm not ignoring you," he repeats.

I can't help my shy smile, and I don't even know where it's come from. I
never
smile. Not unless it's forced.