Facts of Life - In A Family Way .

Part 4. Between The Lines of Fear And Blame

"Seriously, Brooke, Florida? You're choosing Florida over the awesomeness of Cabo? Do you have any idea how many hot guys will be there? Drunk? Naked?"

Glancing up, Brooke offered a weak shrug in response, as Stephanie settled onto her roommate's bed, sitting Indian style.

Folding together another bikini, Brooke concentrated on her packing. "Sam asked me to go, and I'd like to see her."

"Ahh… the cute gay sis." Maria, her dark-haired, olive-skinned roommate mused, swinging into the room and crawling around Stephanie, punching up a pillow to make herself comfy. "But isn't she going with her girlfriend and all their gay friends?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at her audience, Brooke nodded. "Probably."

"Oh, God, what if one of them hits on you?" Stephanie asked, horrified at the thought.

"I kissed a girl once." Settling back on her bed, Maria considered the memory. "At that Kappa party."

Closing her suitcase, Brooke kept her mouth purposely closed.

"Oh really? How was it?"

"Disappointing. I think the girl I got was just a bad kisser. Cause it was really wet. I hate wet sloppy kisses. Then again we both were really drunk."

"Do you think drunk gay girls can have sex? Cause Jason got really drunk once and seriously, nothing was more pathetic than trying to have sex with that brewery."

"I wish we had a gay girl in this sorority." Maria chewed on the end of her hair thoughtfully.

"Seriously." Stephanie nodded agreeably. "We need to keep our diversity quotient up. If only they were prettier. All the LGBT girls in our classes look all… why aren't there any lesbians here like the girls in the L Word?"

"They're all at Northwestern," Maria said, and thumbed over to Brooke's side of the room. "Hooking up with Sammy."

"Hey, Brooke. If you meet any cute gay girls that want to transfer, try to get them to rush, yeah?"

Oh, Good God. Smiling tightly, Brooke turned back, hoisting her pack over her shoulder. "Will you guys please remind Martha to feed the fish? I know I've already asked her-"

"Oh, trust me honey," Stephanie said, waving a manicured palm in her direction. "No one is going to mess with the Fish Chick's Little Bleu."

"Yeah, that thing's practically a mascot," Maria said.

Palm wrapping around the handle of her suitcase, she shot her roommate a frown. "And Maria, please for the love of God, do not spend all night with your compact against the bowl trying to get him to fight himself."

"But he gets all puffed up and pretty!"

Fighting the urge to smile and inadvertently encourage her sisters, Brooke grabbed her purse and blew a quick kiss to the little fish. "I'll see you guys in a week."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Stephanie twittered after her.

"Please," she heard Maria mutter. "Like that leaves out a whole lot."

There was a nervous pit in the bottom of her stomach, a hard knot that made her nauseous. Maneuvering through throngs of travelers, she gripped her luggage so hard that her knuckles were white with the effort. Eyes peeled for a brunette, she wondered idly if there was time to hurl before she had to meet up with Sam and her group.

The month or so between New Years and Spring Break had been remarkably pleasant, at least as their long distance friendship was concerned. Personalized emails were sent almost every day, and Sam was her regular night time AIM chat buddy. There had never been a question where she would spend her spring break, and although Adam had taken offense, the relationship had deteriorated to the point where she was sure he would be banging some hero worshiping freshman at the first opportunity in the bathroom of Margarita Jones in Cabo.

Not that Brooke had a problem with that. Adam, dumb jock he sometimes could be, deserved more than a barely interested girl who would rather chat than make out. Brooke had the strong suspicion that she was getting a reputation for being frigid, and as much as she hated the idea, she couldn't muster the energy to even try to fight it.

The fact was, she had read those books she had given to Sam, and they had made her wetter and hotter than thirty minutes of Adam settled between her legs.

Maria had a dancer's body, tight and compact, and she didn't have a high sense of modesty, and because of that, Brooke had more than ample opportunity to look at rose bud colored nipples and perfectly portioned breasts, lean thighs and tight asses. Her sex drive was definitely not frigid, but her unexpected kiss with Sam and the thrill that resulted had given her license to admit, her desires weren't with Adam.

It was an unstated want, and just like her love of Sam, lay buried deep inside of her, because Brooke already had a label, given to her by everyone, including Sam. She was the straight step sister, the pretty blonde one who would eventually marry some wealthy and talented football star. Sam was the gay one, she had taken that from her by having the courage to admit it, and because of that, Brooke's secret was all the more illicit.

She was sure that a part of that contributed to her conflict. She was a bundle of nerves, and she knew she would see Sam for the first time since the day after she had kissed her, and with her would be Rebecca, who she had seen pictures of: a beautiful, red-haired girl with a thin mouth and piercing blue eyes.

Her breath was shallow, her palms were sweaty, and when, through the noisy crowded baggage claim, she heard a familiar laugh, a spike of emotion hit her so hard she nearly turned around and headed back towards departing flights.

Biting her lower lip for strength, Brooke straightened up and pasted on a smile, and began to walk, around a group of guys who were shoving and jostling each other, around a Cuban family chattering to each other in Spanish, and toward a group of about five girls, waiting in a corner in various states of casual wear. In the fore front, back to her, was a familiar brunette, and beside her, was that redhead.

It was Rebecca who saw her first, who nudged Sam's shoulder to get her attention, and forced her to finally see Brooke, coming closer all the time.

Through it all, Brooke's smile was polite, forced, until Sam's dark eyes met her own, and then all there was was happiness, because Sam's grin was sincere.

"HI!" Sam looked a little too pale, probably a gift from the frigid Northwestern climate, but gorgeous, just the same. Dropping her suitcase, Brooke was lucky enough to get a hug and a familiar whiff of perfumed lavender. "Sorry! You were early!"

"Blame American Airlines," Brooke said, squeezing her forearms. Her friends crowded around them, and then Brooke felt awkward again, feeling the study of some intense scrutiny.

"Oh, right. Intros." One hand still on her shoulder, Sam turned around and began to point, singling out each friend one by one. "So, that's Mallory. That's Jess over there. Christelle is the chick who needs a hair cut." Christelle answered that with a very polite middle finger pointed at Sam. "She thinks she's Shane," Sam told Brooke pointedly, as if Brooke would have any idea what that meant. "And umm… there's Abby, and of course… Rebecca." In the corner, Abby twiddled her fingers, and beside her Rebecca smiled. "You guys? This is Brooke."

"Finally!" Rebecca laughed, and came forward, wrapping her arms around Brooke in an entirely too friendly hug. "It seems like I already know you!"

"Likewise," she managed, extracting herself as politely as she could.

"She's gorgeous." That comment came from Abby, and Brooke couldn't miss the glare that Sam threw in her direction. "You didn't tell us she was so hot, Sam."

"Abby, seriously. She's straight," Sam snapped, as if she had had this conversation before. "Behave." When Brooke glanced at her oddly, Sam leaned forward, and under her breath, explained, "Sorry. She's umm… well… she's a gay Nicole."

Sam's friends weren't sorority types, that was quite clear. While they were an attractive bunch, they were all different, and a little less immaculate about their appearance. Mallory and Jess, obviously a couple, looked like twins, with equally boyish short cuts and athletic bodies. They seemed an indivisible unit, and Jess appeared to be the spokesmen for them both. Mallory seemed content to simply observe, and when she had a comment would whisper it quietly into the more outspoken Jess' ear. Christelle was decidedly butch, and a little sullen to boot. Still, she had a nice smile when she bothered to show it, and appeared to be gentlemanly as well, making a point of opening the door for Brooke and the other girls at every opportunity. Mostly, she hid behind the shaggy bangs of her hair, and even though the others called her 'Don Juan', Brooke had a hard time believing it.

It was a little ironic that of Sam's friends, she appeared to be the most femme of the group, Rebecca and Abby following in closely. Sam was the most attractive of the bunch, at least in Brooke's love addled eyes, but she had to grudgingly admit that Rebecca had her own unique red-headed glamour. And she clearly seemed to adore Sam. It seemed that no matter what the situation, in any given moment, Rebecca would find an excuse to touch Sam. Either sidling up behind her, sliding a possessive palm onto her hip, or running her fingertips up and down Sam's forearm, or pressing a gentle kiss on the nape of Sam's neck while Sam was speaking, Rebecca always seemed to make a pointed note that Sam and her were together.

Brooke had been prepared for it. It had been a given, when she had agreed to visit with Sam during this spring break, that she would have to see Sam and her girlfriend in a romantic clinch. Unfortunately, she hadn't expected to get pelted with it every half second. The uneasy feeling in her stomach had grown from nausea to something a little worse, and it was hard to maintain her easy smile when she began to suspect that Rebecca was doing everything but peeing on Sam to mark her territory. Sam seemed bewildered by the attention, and it gave Brooke pause.

In the cab ride to the motel, Rebecca looked at her, a scrutinizing stare that made her feel like she was being tried and judged. At that moment, she finally had to look away, irritation boiling up in her irrationally. It was then that she truly noticed Abby.

Despite Sam's assertion that Abby was the gay version of Nicole, she bore none of her physical traits. Abby was a brunette, with green eyes and a wide smile. She was tall and slender, and knew her designers and how to color coordinate. And she was staring at Brooke.

The undisguised attraction was hard to ignore, and facing it full on, Brooke found herself suddenly breathless. Her fingers clenched together in her lap, and self consciously, she began to fuss with her hair.

It was going to be an interesting break.

"So umm…. I know it’s not much," Sam said, elbows resting on Brooke's suitcase as Brooke inspected her side of the adjoining motel rooms. "And I hate you put you with Abby and Christelle, but... Rebecca and I…"

"You need your space," she finished lightly, crossing her arms and heading toward the open balcony, looking over the crowded boardwalk. Looking back at Sam, she grinned reassuringly. "It's fine, Sam."

Sam stared at her, clearly not sure if it WAS okay. "I don't want you to think I dragged you a few thousand miles to pawn you off on my friends."

"I don’t think that," she assured her.

Sam let out a long breath, and suddenly slouched, eyes rolling up to her head before she whimpered, head in her palms.

"Sam?" Immediately flooded with concern, Brooke moved fast, leaning down in front of the luggage, one open palm on the back of her step sister splayed on top of it. "What's up?"

Letting out an animal sort of grunt, Sam immediately jerked her head up, brunette strands flying back. Her brown eyes looked up at her pleadingly.

"We're having issues," she admitted.

Brows furrowing, Brooke sank onto the double bed she was assigned, trying hard to get her heart out of her throat. "You and Rebecca?" she managed. "Because you two looked like…"

Releasing an audible sigh, Sam straightened, hands on her hip. "She's… she wants more."

"More than what?"

"More than what I'm giving her," Sam said, and sank down beside her, hands pressed on either side of her, curled around the edge of the bed. "She's been out since she was in high school, and she says she's had enough casual girlfriends. She wants something more serious than that. She wants me to move in with her, at least till the summer."

As that sunk in, Brooke blinked, suddenly incensed. "Sam, you're 18! This is your first serious relationship!"

"I know," Sam said, licking her lips in her agitation. "And she used to be so cool about it, but ever since Christmas she's just… I don't know, it's like something's changed."

"Well, whatever it is, it's her problem, not yours." Sam looked at her pleadingly, and Brooke sighed, fingertips kneading the bridge of her nose, trying to calm herself down. "Boy or girl, Sam, your … lover… should never pressure you into anything."

"I know. In theory, I know, but honestly, Brooke, I don't understand what's wrong with me. Why can't I just move in? I don't even know what's holding me back." Falling back onto the cheap bed, Sam fell into a desperate sort of silence, completely frustrated. "I know she's being unreasonable, but logically? Why can't I?"

Sitting straight up, Brooke looked down upon a beautiful, confused girl. Sam looked miserable, and Brooke had no idea what to say to her. She had to be the wise sister, not the jealous would be lover, and it was a hard line to define.

Hesitating, Brooke reached out a hand, ready to take Sam's, comfort her with touch. But awareness of Sam had taken on a sexual notation, and just the feel of fingertips against hers… She shied back, reminding herself harshly that she was here as a sister to Sam. Eyes on the carpet, she pressed her lips together, making a point of keeping her palm flat against the bed.

Seconds later, soft fingers tickled her palm, and Brooke glanced down, to find Sam's fingers burrowing under her hand, until digits were entwining with her own, clasping them gently.

"Brooke," came the soft whisper. "I need help."

Just like that, she melted, her insides liquefying into a pile of goo. It was pathetic, really. With a resigned sigh, she settled back onto the bed, resting on her elbow, and lovingly smoothed an errant bang off of Sam's forehead. "Whatever you do, don't do it to prove something, okay?" Earnest doe eyes stared up at her. "Sam, I slept with Josh to prove something, and I wasn't ready for it, and it was a nightmare, remember?"

Intimacy with Sam was always spellbinding, and Brooke found herself drawn into the intense stare, the moist lips.

"Doesn't speak much of Josh," Sam whispered conspiratorially, and Brooke chuckled alongside her, tightening her hold on her palm and retracing the line of her face.

"No, it doesn't."

"Wow." The foreign voice, interjected at that charged moment, did its work, and spell broken, Brooke flushed, glancing up to find an entirely too interested Abby standing just inside the doorway. Disentangling herself from Sam, she kept a wary eye on the other girl. Abby dropped her bags on the floor, picked up immediately by an incoming Christelle, who shot her a glare and put them carefully beside the bed. "If I didn't know better I would think Rebecca had some competition."

"Shut up, Abby," Sam said, rising up to her elbows. "Where is she, anyway?"

"Getting the rest of the stuff," Christelle mumbled, already setting up camp on the single bed, kicking off her doc martins. "You don't mind if I take this, do you?" she asked Brooke. "I can't sleep with anyone."

"Ironic, if you ask me, considering the trail of broken hearts at Northwestern," Abby chirped. "Guess you're stuck with me, Brooke."

"Abby, seriously. She's straight. Back off." Sam shot her a sympathetic apologetic shrug. Eyes drawn back to the clearly magnetic Abby, Brooke only smiled mutely.

"You'll have to excuse Abby." Appearing in the doorway, Rebecca slapped a hand onto Abby's shoulder. "She likes to be contrary. She thinks it's cute. It’s not, by the way," she added pointedly. Grabbing hold of Sam's hand, she hauled her up and immediately pressed a kiss to Sam's lips.

Brooke turned away, pretending to be distracted by the hard bodies now cavorting below the balcony.

"So what now?" Abby asked. "I got the skinny from this chick downstairs? There's an awesome party over in South Beach."

"Guys, we're gonna do straight stuff too," Sam said, and Brooke glanced back when everyone stared at her, the elephant literally in the room. "We're gonna do the beach and the parasailing, and the shopping, and not everything is going to be about eye-fucking, okay Abby?"

"What crawled up Sam's butt?" Christelle sniffled.

Brooke smiled uncomfortably. "You guys can do you whatever you want. I can do whatever, it's fine."

"Brooke, you came to hang out with me," Sam reminded her.

"And seriously, Brooke, it's fine," Rebecca told her, sinking down on the bed. "I don't want you to think we're some sort of gay cult. We are capable of doing things that aren't defined by our sexual orientation. Besides, Abby's bi."

Abby gave her a ridiculously cheesy grin. "All else fails, we oogle the hard bodied men together."

Sam's look was pained, but Brooke couldn't help but smile back.

Abby was a junior, who, in an incestuous twist, had come into the group by banging Rebecca.

"It was a couple years ago," she told her, the next day, as they lay side by side on adjoining towels on scorching sand. "Your regular one night stand, but she never left. We never slept together again, but I'm happier that way. She's got an Irish temper. I don't envy Sam."

Shades on, Brooke made sure to keep her expression as neutral as possible. Crossing her forearms underneath them, she used them as a makeshift pillow, resting her chin as she eyed the frolicking Sam and Rebecca, fighting playfully in the waves with the rest of the swimmers.

Sam wore a red bikini, and she wore it well. Her brunette hair was dripping wet, and it provided for an extremely interesting distraction, as Brooke allowed herself to linger, under the pretense of curiosity.

"Any relationship takes work," she replied, "But Rebecca should probably put on a little more sunscreen or she's going to be red all over."

Beside her, Abby chuckled, using her pink to draw her shades down long enough to give her a look. "I'm sure Sam wouldn’t mind that job." Brooke didn't respond, but it didn't deter her neighbor. "You know, I think it's really cool of you to blow off your friends to spend some time with your sis."

"Step-sis," she corrected, and then felt foolish. Mouth turning down bitterly, she dug her elbows in the towel, and turned over, so the hot ray of the sun now burned down onto her exposed belly. "And I didn't mind."

A wolf-whistle caught her attention, and peering through her sunglasses, she discovered a group of bare chested demi gods, walking past them, silly grins making no secret their interest.

Abby seemed amused at least, and Brooke found herself grinning as well, tossing her a sly grin before a dark-skinned tall one in blue trunks holding a volleyball was shoved more or less in their direction.

"Ladies!" he called out. "Feel like some volleyball?"

"Oh, he wants more than volleyball," Brooke muttered under her breath. Abby sat up, appraising him.

"Why wouldn't he? We're two of the hottest chicks on the beach." Sliding off her glasses, she arched an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

Brooke glanced back toward the water, to Sam. The unknown object of her affection clearly only had eyes for her girlfriend.

That's great, Brooke, she suddenly thought. Spend your Spring Break mooning over your horribly inappropriate crush or actually have some fun.

Ignoring the small flare of pain in her chest, Brooke drew in her breath and allowed herself a brilliant smile.

Sitting up, she eyed the boy, and with a flirtatious smile, winked at her new partner-in-crime. "Let's do it."

Despite her frail appearance, Brooke knew how to play the game. She was tall, and scrappy, and paired with the fiercely competitive Abby, she was suddenly in her element.

The boys, who at first, seemed more interested in their bouncing lady bits than the actual game, soon found themselves actually trying, and cursing more than once.

And Abby was fun. She was lively and witty and attractive. They made a good pair, and after her third spike, Brooke realized she was actually laughing.

Incidentally, she had also forgotten about Sam, until half an hour later, when she came off the court, laughing and chatting with Doug, a starting guard at Ohio State, and nearly ran straight into her.

"Hi!" Smile lingering, Brooke grabbed hold of another hi-five from one of Doug's friend, before realizing than the look on Sam's face was less than thrilled. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Sam said, and Brooke frowned slightly.

"Okay…"

"Hey, Kerri Walsh!" Large hands came down on her shoulders, and Doug squeezed playfully. "What do you say you and Misty May over there stop by the hotel later? We got an open bar." His eyes lingered on Sam's rather fine form. "Bring your friend if you want."

"Umm… she's taken, so behave," Brooke said, tweaking his nose, "And I'll keep that in mind!"

"Right, well, I gave Abby my cell, so CALL US, okay gorgeous?" Grinning, she nodded, and laughed when he suddenly did a backflip, spraying her with sand.

"You're not actually going, right?"

Blinking, Brooke found herself drawn back to Sam. "What?" Sam's brown eyes were obnoxiously judgmental, and they were a damper on her happy state. "What's wrong with him?"

"Their hotel? Open bar? Brooke, that screams date rape."

She sighed, smile becoming strained, as Sam's arms crossed in front of her, salty hair pulled back to further heighten her stony expression. "I'm not actually GOING, okay? But even if I did, what is so wrong with it? God, it's not like I'd be alone."

"Brooke!" Skidding to a stop beside them, Abby was breathless, eyes sparkling with mirth. "So I was talking to one of the guys? And they're going bungie jumping! They totally just invited us."

"Guys, we're actually LEAVING," Sam snapped.

Abby blinked, and when Brooke just shrugged, she picked a nonexistent bit of sand of Sam's shoulder. "Oh come on, Sammie. I haven't had a hot girl to bond over guys with in forever! You guys are all, together and boring and I can't exactly flirt with dudes with Christelle! Let me HAVE her for a while!"

"Let you have her?!"

For some reason, having her first reasonable good mood since she had arrived become soured by the suddenly pissy Sam was making her a little annoyed.

"Abby, can I talk to Sam alone please?" Eyes rolling up to the top of her head, Abby brought her shoulders up and backed away, presumably to join Sam's friends, already waiting nearby.

Alone, Brooke tried to regain her clarity, staring down at the suddenly pouty Sam.

"Okay, what's up?" she began, in an attempt to stay rational.

"What's up? Brooke, I WARNED you about her!" Sam said, thrusting a palm out to her. "Gay Nicole, remember?!"

"Umm, BI-Nicole," Brooke corrected, "And I liked Nicole!"

"Yeah, right up until she tried to KILL you!"

"Sam, what is the big deal? I'm having FUN, it's Spring Break, and I'm allowed."

"Yes, but you're supposed to have fun with me, remember?"

"Oh." Crossing her arms, Brooke arched a skeptical eyebrow, suddenly incensed. "Am I supposed to just WAIT around for you until you decide you want to spend time with me? Because the entire trip thus far you have been attached in some form to Rebecca, and honestly, the lip on lip Siamese twin thing, is starting to get a little old." Sam's mouth dropped open, and Brooke felt a twinge of validation, wounded heart beating harder in response. "You can't expect me to linger like some third wheel, Sam. It's not fair."

Sam literally groaned, and Brooke's eyes narrowed when the other girls hands came up to cover her face, pressing them into her flesh in frustration. "You know what? Fine. Go have fun with Abby. Go be straight sluts together."

"Fine," Brooke said tightly, "Have fun with Rebecca and your U-Haul."

Throwing her hands up at her, Sam glared at her, stomping away in the sand. As she walked away, Brooke shut her eyes and sighed, a chill flooding her spine.

When she opened them again, Sam had grabbed hold of Rebecca's hand, and was leading her away.

To hell with her, she thought bitterly, and turned back to an approaching Abby.

At least for the night.

She awoke slowly and with resistance, mostly in part to the completely heinous aftertaste of beer in her mouth and the fact that two drills seemed to be trying to pick apart her skull.

She felt heavy, and sluggish, and most of her senses refused to work. What did, she wished didn't.

It was the most horrible feeling in the world, and … she was fairly certain she had thrown up at some point.

Blinking, Brooke slowly felt herself come alive, body aching, as uncertainty created a damp fog over her reality.

She saw one arm hanging over her bed, and she was fairly certain it was hers, because the fingers moved when she willed them to. Her hair hung in her face, and it made it impossible to see much, but she had definitely made it back to her bed. The twin bed, across from her, barely made out with her struggling peripheral vision, was empty and made.

There was also something pinning her to the bed.

Brooke winced, digits digging into her bangs, as she struggled to move, and it was then she realized there were no blankets on the bed.

She also, incidentally appeared to be naked.

A sharp, nagging fear began to germinate, and Brooke sucked in a harsh breath, fogginess giving way to alert paranoia as she arched her neck and looked behind her.

Plastered against her, was a naked body, long brunette strands piled lewdly against her, obscuring the face.

Oh, God.

"Ummm…" her throat was hoarse, and the headache pounded, and suddenly remnants of the night before began to crash into her brain, like painful lightning bolts.

Slender fingers threading through her hair, slamming her lips hotly against her own, tongue plunging inside for a bitter taste.

The body stirred, and Brooke's paranoia almost became hypoventilation, as Abby began to rub against her, groaning oddly.

Fingers jerking at the halter top, jerking it down almost angrily to display perfect breasts

"Oh, shit," she breathed.

Abby froze, and slowly, her partner managed a hesitant, "Brooke?"

"Oh, shit," she said again.

"Oh, God," Abby groaned, and then she shoveled off of her. "Did we-"

"Yeah, I think we did," she managed.

"Was it good?"

"I think so," she said, her voice a strangled pitch. Scrambling for a sheet, Brooke fumbled off the bed.

Abby sat up, pulling strands of hair out of her eyes, still insanely naked. "Oh, Fuck! Sam's going to kill me."

"Listen, Brooke, I need you to wake up, because I've been thinking and… "

It was, of course, at that moment, that Sam had chosen to walk in.

END CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTERS