A Knight Comes To Bed (6 page)

They were making away around to the part of the garden where the sculptures named “Groped” stood. When they passed it, Rachel couldn't help but shiver. Sam saw this and put his arm around her, pulling her close.

“Are you cold?” Sam asked.

“No,” Rachel said. “Just bad vibes from this spot, I guess. I always avoided that sculpture before, but now I really hate it.”

“That's what I figured,” Sam said. “I really hope you’re okay. You know you can talk to me about that stuff, right?”

“Oh, of course I do, Sam,” Rachel said.

They walked back out onto the sidewalk and started heading towards Rachel's dorm.

“What did the police ask you when you gave your statement?” Rachel asked.

“Umm, nothing unusual, really,” Sam said. “They asked me if he and I had fought, and I said briefly. They asked what happened and I told them. I guess I don't really see the point in lying about it. Yeah, I kicked a rapist in the face, big deal.”

“You should get a medal,” Rachel said, wrinkling up her face in cute sarcasm.

Sam blushed.

“Well, I don't know about that,” Sam said. “But I do know that the cops didn't seem to care at all that I'd soccer-kicked some asshole in the face. They laughed about it, and I don't even know if they wrote it down or not. I'm sure they did, considering the next time anyone sees Kurt, he's going to have a big ole goose egg sticking out of his forehead, like a lopsided unicorn.”

Rachel laughed at the unicorn remark, she couldn't help but think Sam was as witty as he was cute.

“I also just want you to know that I appreciate last night not just because you saved me,” Rachel said. “I appreciate it because of how you touched me afterward. Not just in the sexual sense but in the way that you treated me, like I’m something precious. You took care of me in a way that made me feel powerful, not weak. It really meant a lot Sam, and I want you to know that.”

“I know what you mean, Rachel,” Sam said. “I really hope you know that it meant a lot to me as well.”

A girl that Rachel recognized as one of the cheerleaders, but a different cheerleader than Sam had been with the night before, ran up to Sam.

“Hey, Sam!” she shouted as she threw her arms around him. “I've been looking for you all day!”

“Well here I am.” Sam said with a chuckle. “Why were you looking for me for?”

The girl started pulling Sam away from Rachel, tugging him by the arm back toward the university. “We have a presentation in an hour,” she said. “And you blew me off last night, asshole.”

“Well you don't seem that mad about it,” Sam said. “And if I remember right, you blew me off.”

“Oh, Christ, whatever!” the girl said.

Sam cast an embarrassed smile over his shoulder at Rachel as he was dragged back the way they had come. Rachel walked the short way back to her dorm by herself.

AS SHE CLIMBED the stairs to her room, she reminded herself that it was wise not to hope for anything from boys like Sam. So many pretty girls wanted his attention and were willing to sleep with him at the drop of a hat. It made it hard to keep his attention for more than a few hours at a time.

Surely, she thought, she would just end up getting her little heartbroken if she started to put any kind of faith into her thoughts of Sam.

He was a nice guy, that much was certain, and maybe even a hero. But he was also a Varsity basketball player in a school where the basketball players walked on water. Those kinds of guys never went for girls like her.

Rachel dropped her books on her bed and headed to the shower. She was glad to step under the warm water as it cascaded down her body. She slowly and gently washed herself off with body wash, imagining that with each bubble and sud that went down the drain, a little bit of her pain and anxiety went with it.

After standing under the water for maybe half an hour, her roommate knocked on her door and asked her if she was all right.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Rachel called over the noise of the water. “Just give me a second.”

She had been too busy yesterday to even have time for a shower.

Rachel stepped out of the shower and surveyed her perky breasts and body in the mirror. Sam had gotten a taste of her the night before, but was it good enough to keep him coming back for more?

She'd have to wait and see if she really wanted to know, and she figured that seemed like the best thing to do regardless since it was all she could do. There really was no other option at this point.

At least none that would satisfy her.

He grew up listening to demos of aspiring musicians which molded him into a man with a great passion for art. It was a different kind of art, however, that C.J. wanted to pursue academically.

C.J. fell in love with photography because he was constantly amazed by the fact that one picture could tell a lifetime's story. He did an excellent story-telling job behind the lens. But when he purposefully acquainted himself with photo descriptions, he found a new love - words. He always dreaded writing, mostly because his cursive was so incomprehensible that his essays in middle school received low grades. But he's got a keyboard now, and a pool of writing ideas backed by his journeys and experiences - which he likes to call
the rocking party life of a college guy.

Young as he is, C.J. aspires to tell stories that involve his most favorite photography model - a half-naked woman - and the healthy night sweats that come with it.

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