ReCAP: A NORMAL Novella (4 page)

I smile at her and let go of her wrists. I
brush away the last of her tears. They don't belong on her perfect
face. Only that smile I've seen just a few times does, and God
would I do anything to see it in this moment.

"We're friends, Ror," I remind her. "That's
what friends are for, right?" And I mean it. I tell myself to
ignore the fact that there isn't another friend in the world who
makes me feel the things this girl does.

She nods in agreement, and my gaze drops to
her lips.

I feel a pull in my groin, and it's
completely inappropriate considering the circumstances. I stand and
go to pack up my books, trying to get my head straight. It doesn't
help that she's so fucking beautiful. I pack up her books next and
then place them in her bag.

I hold out my hand to her, and it's kind of
a test. I don't want to push her, but I need to know if she still
trusts me. "I got you, Pine," I promise her, and I tell myself I
will always have this girl's back. She needs that. Someone to look
out for her. Despite her tough persona, we all need support
sometimes. "Come on, let's get you home. You must be tired." She
looks exhausted. Still gorgeous as all hell, but tired and
drained.

She takes my hand, and I
walk her through the building. Vaguely I try to remember a time
when I've held a girl's hand like this, and I can't. Other than
Bits when she was little. It feels good. Strangely
right
. Rory's hand is
small and delicate, so unlike her spirit, and it reminds me that
despite her ferocity, she just a girl. A beautiful, incredibly
strong girl, but a girl nonetheless. One who needs help sometimes,
who needs support. I want to be that person for her, and I silently
resolve to be the best fucking friend she's ever had.

We arrive at the point where I usually leave
her to go bring her car around, but I don't let her hand go. I
don't want to. But she doesn't try to pull hers away either, and I
don't know what she needs right now.

"Ror?"

"I can't walk by the locker rooms," she
whispers meaningfully. Vaguely I think I'd probably burn the
fucking gymnasium wing to the ground if it would make things easier
for her.

"Can I walk around the
building with you?" I ask. There's no way I can let her go alone.
Not this late, and especially not after she was so upset just
minutes ago.

She nods, and I exhale my
relief, and lead her out the door. I can feel her returning to
herself with every step, and when we get to the student lot, she
takes a deep breath and lets go of my hand. I let her. I look her
over, watching for any signs that she's still in danger of
panicking, any signs that maybe she shouldn't drive right now, but
she just seems embarrassed.

"I really am sorry, Sam," she says to her
feet. I can't listen to her apologize. I'm the one who's sorry.

"Enough, Rory," I tell
her. "You have nothing to be sorry for, okay? I'm sorry for putting
you in that position, but you know what? You're stronger than you
think you are."

She snorts, and it irritates me - how blind
she is to her own strength.

"You are, Ror. I obviously
did something to trigger you to panic, but you got through it all
on your own. You didn't need a pill. You did it yourself." How
doesn't she see that? She's a fucking
force
, and she doesn't even realize
it.

She stares at me a moment,
considering my words, and it's like she's looking right into me.
Like she can see things that no one else can, that no one
else
should
be
able to see. It's unnerving.

"I didn't need a pill," she says
contemplatively, "but I didn't do it on my own, either." There's
gratitude in her eyes, awe even, and it's a heady feeling. It makes
me feel strangely powerful, and vaguely I think that in this
moment, if I had the choice of any superpower, I would choose to be
able to quell Rory's panic attacks with a hug. "Thanks," she says
meaningfully.

I give her a small smile. I'm completely
thrown from this whole evening, from this whole month, really. What
is this girl doing to me?

"Hey, I got you, Pine, what are friends
for?"

****

You're The
Problem

M
y boys are all getting insanely excited for break, and I find
myself mirroring their enthusiasm despite myself. Of course, I'm
fully aware that the timing of my own eagerness for the trip and
Rory's commitment to attend are no coincidence, but I don't tell
anyone else that. Unfortunately, at least Tucker knows me well
enough to be suspicious of my intentions with Rory, and I can't
even count how many times I've assured him that there's nothing
more than friendship going on.

It doesn't help that I
refused to blow off tutoring her the other night when he wanted me
to be his wingman with some "hot college bitches" he met while
visiting the Hofstra campus. I'm pretty sure he was never going to
follow through, since, despite putting up a good front, I know he
hasn't slept with anyone but Carl for months - maybe even since he
started hooking up with her in the first place. But he keeps up the
act, and for the life of me, I don't know why. I suppose it's
because he doesn't think Carl wants more than the casual
friends-with-benefits thing they supposedly have, but if she
didn't, they wouldn't get into argument after argument over who was
doing what, with whom. I'm pretty sure they're both just trying to
save face, and it's pretty ridiculous.

I, on the other hand, am "distracted",
according to Tuck. And he's not wrong. It has been a while for me -
since before I started tutoring Rory and we became friends.
  

I can't say I'm either upset or concerned
about it. Because the truth is, I'm in a good mood, and I don't
really have anything to complain about.

We're already seated at
our usual booth when the girls walk in. They usually arrive a few
minutes after us on the few days a week we eat lunch together,
because Rory still walks around the building to meet them. Her gaze
finds mine immediately and I offer her a genuine smile. I have been
smiling a lot more than usual. She returns it and I feel that new
sensation she elicits – that little flutter in my belly and the
fullness in my chest. It's a strange feeling… but a good
one.

Chelsea and Lily follow right behind Rory,
Tina, and Carl, and we get up to let the girls in. My eyes
compulsorily drop to Rory's ass as she slides into the booth and it
instantly affects me in a way that's annoyingly inconvenient given
our current location. I slide in after her, glad to hide my lap
under the table, and start thinking about my Grandma Lena, but it
only works somewhat since Rory's thigh is pressed up against the
length of my own. I sigh, and silently remind myself to stop
checking out a girl who is supposed to be nothing more than a
friend at every fucking possible turn.

We order and get into
conversation about our upcoming trip. I tell Tucker about the surf
boards my Uncle Kelly, who is an executive for the W Hotel Group,
is hooking us up with during our stay. They're pretty sweet, and
neither of us has gotten in the water since Labor Day, so we're
both looking forward to it. Tucker tries to talk Carl into getting
on a board, though I'd listened to this exact exchange several
times over the summer, and it never ended with Carl on a surfboard.
Port Woodmere is on the water, and beach clubs line Atlantic
Boulevard, but it's only warm enough for beach weather about three
months max. When I was a kid we used to spend summer in the
Hamptons, which is where I learned to surf, but after my parents'
divorce we stopped going to the house we used to rent with my
cousins and aunt and uncle.

"Have you surfed?" I ask Rory.

She shakes her head.

"I could teach you," I
offer. "In Miami." I'm pretty good on a board – not professional or
anything, but good enough to give a lesson for fun.

"I prefer just to swim," she murmurs, and an
image of her in a swimsuit takes over my brain, making me forget
what we were even talking about in the first place.

"She's from Florida," Dave interrupts, "why
would she need a surfing lesson from you, Cap? She can probably
ride big waves." He smirks and I roll my eyes, but then his gleam
with mischief, putting me on edge. "She can probably ride real
big-"

"Damn it, Dave,
will you shut the fuck up?!
" I growl at him. Fury swarms my body, straining my muscles -
they want to do something, to hit something, but I stay in control,
just pissed the fuck off at Dave.

Who the fuck does he think
he is to talk to Rory like that?! I feel her tense up next to me at
his innuendo, and I resent my friend even more, but he seems
confused as to what he did wrong.
Fucking
idiot.

"Chill out, man. I was just sayin-"

"I know what you were
fucking saying and
I'm
saying to back the fuck off. Could you show the girl some
damn respect?
Jesus
."

What does he think I am, a
fucking moron? I got his pathetic joke, I just didn't find it
funny. Rory's not some random chick he can tease or insult, and
he
will
show her
some fucking respect, I will make damn sure of that.

My fingers rake my hair in frustration as
Dave stares at me like he doesn't know what to make of me. But
thankfully he does shut up, though I wish he'd stop looking between
me and Rory like we're hiding something, because it isn't helping
my agitation.

"It's okay, it's fine," Rory whispers to
me.

I finally look at her, checking to make sure
she really is fine, not just Rory-fine. She doesn't seem especially
anxious, which helps ease some of my aggravation. But just because
she's fine doesn't mean Dave's comment was fine. He won't be
talking to her like that again, and I want her to know it.

"Well it's not fine with me," I murmur to
her. My hand finds hers under the table, and I squeeze it. She does
the same, and it helps drain the rest of my tension. Maybe she's
the one with super powers.

"So, Florida? Is that where you're from?"
Chelsea asks randomly.

Rory nods, but she seems suspicious, and I
wonder why. Chelsea's just trying to get to know her... I
think.

"I was just thinking, we don't really know
anything about you..." Chelsea continues, and now her tone has
changed, and I understand Rory's suspicion. Who the hell does
Chelsea think Rory is? A serial killer?

I roll my eyes, but before I can tell her to
drop the nonsense, Carl defends Rory.

"
You
don't know anything, Chelsea,
I've known Rory since I was like four," she says flippantly. I knew
that. Tucker told me Rory's grandmother lived next to Carl, and she
used to visit her a couple times a year. I picture Rory as a four
year old little girl with pig tails and a big smile. She must have
been fucking adorable. She still is.

"Is that so? How is that, since she lived
down in Florida until a couple months ago?" Chelsea persists with
an annoying amount of false enthusiasm. She's being a bitch, and I
don't know why she's just randomly decided to pick on Rory. But I
let Carl answer, because I know she has a good one, and I'm hoping
it will shut Chelsea up.

"Her grandma lived next to me. We used to
play together when she came to visit."

"Hmm, so you hung out with her for what? One
week out of the year? I'd hardly say you really knew her-" Chelsea
accuses.

Carl's eyes narrow, but so do mine, and I'm
just about done letting the girls hash out their own shit.

"What is your point, Chel? Seriously just
get to it already."

"Well, Cap, I'm just trying to get to know
Rory is all. I mean, we're all about to go on vacation with her,
and what do we know about her really? She shows up in the middle of
her senior year with no explanation and I'm just trying to figure
out what she's hiding, after all, I don't want to go away with
someone I don't even-"

"Then don't fucking come," Rory snaps,
taking the words right out of my mouth. I want to interject, to
tell Chelsea she's being a royal asshole right now, and to back the
fuck off, but Rory's defending herself, and I don't want to take
that away from her.

She tries to slide out of the booth, but I
don't move.

"Excuse me," she says, but
she shouldn’t have to run away when she's not the one who did
anything wrong. I glare at Chelsea – she's the one who needs a
fucking time out. Rory tries to pull the hand I still hold, but I
don't let her, I want her to know I have her back, and my thumb
starts rubbing the back of her hand under the table.

But Rory doesn't relax, in fact, she grows
more agitated with each passing second, and it makes me even more
annoyed with Chelsea.

"You heard her, Chel. If you have a problem
going away with Rory, then Don't. Fucking. Come," I tell her,
keeping a careful control on my tone lest I start shouting at a
girl in a fucking diner.

Chelsea's mouth drops open in righteous
indignation, but I don't give a shit. She's the one in the wrong
and she needs to know that. I feel Rory's pulse quicken from where
my pinky is wrapped around her wrist, but I don't notice quite how
upset she is until Carl says something.

"Rory, are you okay?" she asks.

"Please let me out," Rory
begs me, and my anger at Chelsea slips away instantly, replaced by
deep concern. Shit. Is she having an anxiety attack? Because
of
fucking Chelsea
? I don't know what to do, so I get out of her way as she
asked. She grabs her bag and scurries off to the bathroom, and I
want to go after her, but of course, I can't. I look to Carl, but
she needs no prompting from me, and she's already pushing Tuck off
the bench so she can slide out herself.