acontrollist | A Twisted Up Frown, Disguised As A Smile

Entry tags:

A Twisted Up Frown, Disguised As A Smile

Rachel isn't one to make impulsive decisions. She usually takes as long as possible to think things through, weighing the pros and cons of each outcome.

She obviously didn't do that tonight, since she's standing in Sam Evan's doorway, a bottle of vodka in her hand.

Honestly, she doesn't know what else to do. Ever since she hung up that picture that Sam drew of her a month ago, she and Bradley have been doing nothing but fighting (and having makeup sex, but that's neither here nor there). Tonight was the worst though. There was screaming, name calling (whore was thrown both ways) and one of her favorite crystal vases is still sitting in 3 pieces on her kitchen counter. It probably didn't help matters that as soon as Bradley had left ("Where are you going?! We're not finished talking about this!" "Out. Don't wait up.") Rachel did the only thing she could think of, which was calling Sam, who'd told her to just come over.

She's not even sure how the vodka came into play, but getting drunk sounds really good right now.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If she was sober, she'd be worried about the bruises and pockmarks her nails are leaving in his lower back. As it is, though, she can only really arch up and sob his name, begging him to come with her, come in her as she falls apart underneath him.

He should be worried too because his back is going to be sore tomorrow, as well as other parts of his body (he's sure Rachel will be suffering the same problem come tomorrow morning). But right now all he wants is for her to mark his skin, have her mark her territory on him and pretend like he's hers. Which he is. He might be dating Amy but a part of him will always belong to Rachel, and that part is his heart. The problem is that Rachel isn't his. But right now he can pretend.

He's dying to come so when he feels her go over the edge he's crying out in relief, only holding on for this long so they could let go together. He empties himself inside her with a firm jerk of his hips, and he does it plentifully, still moving as he rides out her orgasm and his own high but at a slower pace than before.

If she was sober, Rachel would feel horrible for using Sam this way. To feel good. To feel beautiful and wanted the way she's been seeking her whole life (and it just seems like she's always tied up when the guy who wants to be that for her rolls around), the way Bradley's failing to make her feel right now. But she's not sober. At all.

She's achy, head still fuzzy with vodka and orgasm as he finally relaxes against her. She sighs and tucks her ankles back together at his lower and hums, pressing her face against the crook of his neck. "Sam..."

He's trying not to put too much weight on her, holding himself up on his arms slightly as his body rests on top of hers. Her dress is drenched in both their sweat so it'll definitely have to come off at some point.

He feels like he could stay where he is forever, buried inside her, but eventually he shifts to pull out of her, brushing a gentle kiss against her lips. He's still too drunk to recognize that they did a very bad thing and all he wants is to get Rachel naked under the covers and cuddle her. "Bed?"

She whined and tried to keep him from pulling out, at least for a little longer, but she realized that his living room was hardwood floors and even her drunk brain realized that that wasn't a good idea for her back, especially when she had about an hour of dance practice tomorrow.

"'Kay." She nods, sitting up and finally unzipping her dress, letting it fall as she pads back into his bedroom, stark naked. Cuddles. Cuddles sound so good right now.

He likes how he's seeing her naked after he's just had his way with her on the floor. He can't help but let his eyes roam over her as he follows her into his bedroom, pulling back the covers for her and gesturing for her to get in.

She gets in and snuggles right into him, legs around his waist, face against his neck and arms around his torso. She's like a koala. Bradley doesn't like to cuddle and Rachel's affectionate sober. It's even worse when she's deprived and drunks. "Sooooft."

Sam isn't too manly to admit that he likes cuddling. Especially after sex. And he thinks it's cute the way she's latched on to him like a koala would on a tree. Once he's pulled the covers over them both, he arms wrap around her, holding her close. "What is?"

"Sam." She says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Sam is soft and awesome and-

"Oh my god." When she wakes up the next morning, Sam is neither soft nor awesome and Rachel's not even bothered with the hangover she's feeling, since the urge to wail is far overweighing it. "Oh my god."

He's not soft in the sense that he's got a morning wood pressed into her butt, spooning her from behind (someone had naughty dreams last night...) and he won't be awesome either when he wakes up with a splitting headache and remembers what the fuck happened last night. But for now he's still asleep, though he's starting to stir slightly when hears a voice but he doesn't want to wake up yet so he's mostly ignoring her.

Okay. Okay good, he doesn't wake up. She can...she can fix this. She slides out of bed, holding a discarded towel against her front as she hunts through his apartment for her clothes. Dropping the towel on the couch, she gets dress and grabs her purse, slipping out of the apartment.

She's going to put the part of her that just wants to get back in bed and let him keep holding her, the part that keeps telling her it felt right, down to her hangover.

Sam makes a muffled sound of protest into his pillow when he can feel the body he's pressed against pull away from him. But it's only until he hears the sound of the door shut after Rachel's left that he actually wakes up. Sitting up in bed, he clutches his head in a daze, slowly piecing together last night's antics. He knows he got drunk, that much is obvious, but not alone. With Rachel. And then...

Sex. On the floor. Oh god, did that actually happen? Maybe it was a dream. He's woken up with a boner so it would make sense... But when he investigates the living room, sees the nearly empty bottle of vodka and his clothes discarded on the floor, he can smell sex and he can smell Rachel on him...

"Oh shit." He had drunken sex with his best friend last night. He's officially freaking out. The fact that she'd left without waking him isn't a good sign.

He's too hungover to go to class, showers and spends most of the day resting. Except it's hard to rest when you're worried about ruining your friendship with someone. Eventually he sends Rachel the following text in the afternoon:

Rachel runs home, showers, pops some pain meds from a dance injury a couple weeks ago and forces herself through practice. Brad wasn't at home when she'd gotten there last night, and he wasn't due to come into practice until later. She's hinky all day, afraid he'll be able to smell Sam on her when he finally arrives, but he doesn't seem to notice.

It doesn't make her feel better.

It doesn't matter how sweet Sam is. How he treats her like a princess and how she hasn't felt as good as she felt with Sam last night in a long long time. It doesn't matter how well they fit or how amazing he is, under her skirt and out of it. What matters is that she has a boyfriend, which, by default, makes what they did wrong. No matter how right it felt. So when she gets his text later that day, she doesn't cut any corners.

Last night shouldn't have happened. What else is there to say?

Saying that breaks her heart a little more than cheating on Bradley in the first place.

He'd prepared himself for the worst, which happens to be her curt reply, but it still hurts. Maybe it hurts more that she's telling him this by text, but at least this way she can't see how his face crumples. Like he thought there might have been a chance of this actually being the start of something great.

What the hell was he thinking? Since when does drunken sex lead to a worthwhile relationship? Never. What did he expect to happen, for her to dump Bradley because of one amazing night?

...Maybe. And now he feels stupid for getting his hopes up.

He has a feeling he already knows the answer, he just has to make sure.

Of course not. He'd never forgive me.

She's not sure what happens after this. Because she doesn't want to lose Sam but how can she ever trust herself around him again, knowing how good he felt, how good he made her feel...or how can she expect him to forgive her for using him? She shoots him another text.

I'm sorry.

The last thing he wants is for her to feel sorry for him, make him feel like the loser he always felt like back in high school.

I know you wouldn't. But thank you.

She starts to leave it there but she can't do it.

I'd like to stay friends...

He thinks about it leaving there but...

You won't. Everything will be fine.

Everything is not fine. Rachel hasn't seen Sam in 3 weeks, but they've talked occasionally. And she thinks they're doing pretty well, getting back to where they were before. Except...

She's been regular since she was 14. And she was supposed to start her period the day after the debacle with Sam. It still hasn't come on and she's sure it's just exhaustion but...her doctor says otherwise.

911. Meet me at Starbucks on 5th Ave.

There's only word to describe how Sam feels going from seeing Rachel almost everyday to not seeing her in 3 weeks: horrible. He misses the way they were before, but he knows they can't ever go back to that. They've exchanged texts and talked on the phone a couple of times, but never as long as they used to. Sam's starting to think Rachel is slowly fading him out of her life so she can marry her douchebag boyfriend and have Broadway babies with him...

He frowns at the text Rachel sends him. 911? That can't be good.

Sitting at a table in Starbucks, he wonders what trouble Rachel is in as he waits for her to arrive.

When she enters the Starbucks it's obvious that, once again, she's been crying. This is becoming a recurring theme in their relationship and she feels like maybe it looks like she's using him but at this point, that's the furthest thing from her mind.

She sinks down across from him, hands folded on the table in front of him. She's got to get this out without crying, but she'd not sure it'll happen. "I-" She takes a deep breath. "I"m pregnant." Her voice cracks and she sits straight up, bottom lip quivering as she tries to keep her composure.

"Rach... What's going on?" He looks at her worriedly when he notices how red her eyes are.

Then she drops the bomb on him. And all he can suddenly think about how is he doesn't remember using a condom with her (how could he have been so stupid)...

"Are you... are you sure?" If she hasn't had a test yet, maybe it's just a false alarm. Maybe there isn't a chance he hasn't just knocked up his best friend.

"I thought it was exhaustion. I went to the doctor and I just left and-." She folds her arms around her chest, hiccuping. She presses the side of one hand beneath her nose, trying to calm her breathing but it's not really working. "I don't know what to do, I don't-...I was supposed to be married first." And you know how Rach gets when things don't go according to plan.

Frankly he doesn't care if it's too awkward to touch her after what happened, he can't just sit and watch her across the table as she falls apart in front of him without comforting her. He'll always be her friend, no matter what happens. So he moves his seat next to hers and pulls her into a hug.

"Breathe," he tells her, because he's pretty sure she's hyperventilating right now and is on her way to having a panic attack. "It's gonna be okay..."

"No it's not! How do I explain this?! I have to tell him, we have to-...oh god. He was right, Sam." She wraps her arms around his waist, sobbing against his shoulder. "He was right. What kind of person does this?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Fast forward like two weeks soon?

Sure!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject