Author’s Note: Thank you all for your kind words with regards to this story; as you know we’re nearing the end of the movie sections… I’ve a few more ideas to bring to the table with regards to scenes that should be included, but this is slowly coming to a close.

Please, just for the record, don’t beg for updates; they’ll come when they do as this isn’t the only story (obviously) that I’m working on. They might be slow in coming, but every piece has a lot of work put into it and they’re not easy to churn out quickly. Be patient; updates will happen :)

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Reality Bites

November 6

Andy was waiting for his son when he arrived in the kitchen for breakfast, a cup of coffee between his hands.

"Good morning."

"Morning, Dad," Austin's greeting was short, and he almost forwent breakfast in an effort to avoid the talk he knew would be forthcoming. But years of ingrained behaviors were hard to circumvent and he instead poured himself a bowl of cereal and settled at the table. Dreading the upcoming conversation didn't prevent him from stirring in a spoon full of sugar as he added his milk.

Andy didn't keep his son waiting long.

"Son, I think we should talk about this Shelby situation."

The spoon Austin had been lifting to his lips shook. Shelby. He'd like nothing better than to throttle her. Spiteful bitch that she was, she probably believed she'd done him a favor. Inhaling through his nose, he took a bite and refilled the utensil, chewing to expend some of his anger before answering. "About what?"

"This whole ending of your relationship with her. Don't you think it was rather hasty?"

Swallowing so he wouldn't choke, Austin stared at his dad, and opted for a touch of honesty. If nothing else, he could be partially honest about this and reveal something of what he was feeling. "It was time, dad. We don't have anything in common anymore."

"You don't spend any more time with her anymore," Andy pointed out as he took a sip of his coffee. "Ever think that maybe that's the problem?"

"No." Austin took another bite, considering any further response as he chewed. He couldn't reveal that Princeton- that Sam was the reason he'd drifted from Shelby in the first place. His throat tightened on the thought and he fought back the wave of hurt that accompanied it. Why hadn't she told him? "Shelby will never be anything more than a head cheerleader with a pretty face and nice body. She's spiteful and vindictive - as you saw yesterday - and not someone I want to be associated with anymore."

"She's the head cheerleader and you're the star quarterback; it's expected."

"Well maybe I don't want to do what's expected of me, dad." Pushing his bowl away, his appetite gone, Austin slid back from the table and leaned down to pick up his bag. "I'll play things your way for the semi-final, but I won't... I can't live up to your expectations when it comes to Shelby."

"Don't count her out just yet, son," was the surprising reply. "She might have a surprise or two up her sleeve."

There is nothing she could say or do that will ever give me cause to forgive her for yesterday. But he didn't voice the sentiment as he strode from the room; he didn't trust himself to stop there.

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School was hell that morning.

Austin was silent, an echo of his previous treatment to his friends in the lock room and they mostly put it down to his disappointment over discovering that Diner Girl had been his Princess. He hadn't dissuaded them of the notion, despite the fact that he felt every jibe and slur against Sam like a kick in the ribs. The unconscious clenching of his jaw would no doubt have a painful price to pay later, but it was no less than he deserved.

He was a coward and in letting Sam take the brunt of the school's disapproval and he only reinforced that fact to himself every time someone said something and he didn't - couldn't - reply. Caught in a web of lies of his own making, Austin felt powerless to change things. Nothing he said or did could take away the pain he'd caused her the previous afternoon, and by the same token, nothing he said or did would have any impact on the current thread of discussion flying through the hallways.

The whispers were the worst; he could hear them as he walked and did his best to ignore them. Mostly they died upon his entrance to a room, the team heralding his decision to drop 'Diner Girl' as a smart one - all the while he cringed within. He could feel the cage of his lies bearing down on him, weighing him down in a fashion nothing else ever had. Inside he was screaming, clawing at the bars - but nobody would hear him because he'd pushed the one person willing to listen away. Locked her out by his silence when the inner him had been screaming at him for being a fool.

Shock was still a large part of his being as he walked the hallways. That Sam was his chat buddy still floored him - yet after speaking with her two days before at the Diner, he shouldn't have been surprised. She was everything he wanted, everything he needed and there was little he could do about it without subjecting them both to more gossip. Overlaying that shock was hurt. Betrayal was as much as part of the whole scenario as incredulity; she should have trusted him and she hadn't.

It hurt and every time they passed in the hallways, every time he glimpsed that damnable her blue cap, it was like reliving the horrible pep rally all over again. It was seeing her face, watching her shut him out as he did nothing - watching as Sam, the only person who really knew him, believe the worst.

Judged by his actions.

Damned by his inactions.

Convicted by his silence.

Yet, even with his own pain, came the realization of hers. He felt every barb against her as if it were against him; every derogatory comment, every jab or dig was like someone taking a knife to his gut. It was like having an open wound in his chest that refused to heal - one that people couldn't see for the blood at his feet.

Shelby's brief comment in the hallway just before lunch when he'd caught Sam walking towards him - tears glazing her beautiful blue eyes as she bravely faced the ridicule of the school - had brought everything home. The worst thing about the whole ordeal was that a part of him, the part he'd been cultivating for the public for so long, agreed with her. That realization had been a shock as well as an unwelcome revelation.

He'd started to become what everyone else and his dad wanted him to be. He'd begun to believe that a person's social standing was what dictated their worth with regards to how much time he spent with or on them. It appalled and terrified him and he had no one to blame but himself.

If he'd been brave the way Sam had been, the way she continued to be, none of it would have mattered - but he was a coward. A coward who was unable and unwilling to risk disappointing his father; a coward unable to go after what he wanted rather than the dream he was told he was supposed to want.

Instead of telling Shelby off as she'd unwillingly tilted his world on its side once more, he'd been able to do little more than just stare at Sam with the dawning realization... and feel about three inches tall.

He wanted to go to her, to tell her he was sorry; to say she really did know him - to ask her to wait until they got to Princeton to pass judgment, but even as he considered it, he knew it was too late. Going to her now, in such a public setting, would only open them to more ridicule - in particular Sam. No one would believe he'd approached her out of more than just pity. No one would consider, even for a moment, that any apology he could make would be sincere.

Instead of going to her, he'd turned away, an ache in the center of his chest as he thought ahead to that evening. Another evening without talking to PrincetonGirl818 - another evening without Sam. It was enough to make his jaw tighten and his eyes burn; desolation at the thought was swift to follow and it wasn't hard to figure out why.

He missed her.

He missed talking to her, knowing that she was an intelligent and informed listener at the other end of the keyboard; someone who wouldn't judge him on other people's standards instead of his own. He missed being able to say outlandish things to make her laugh, or quote obscure poetry that she seemed to always know. He missed the way she always seemed to consider her responses, but at the same time was ready with a witty comeback. He missed being able to shock her, and himself, with the revelations as to his dreams.

He just plain missed her.

Maybe he was wrong to want her; maybe it was wrong to want something that had felt so right; maybe it was wrong to want to be happy for himself rather than everyone around him. Whatever it was, whatever this awful, gut twisting thing that ate away at his resolve and composure was, it was more than just guilt. His actions and reactions towards Sam were more than just negative; they were downright unforgiveable and by being such, he’d moved well beyond guilt.

All through lunch he was silently contemplating his options and ignoring his friends. If they thought it was weird, they - mercifully - let him be.

Stuffing his things into his locker, he slammed it shut as he considered the day stretching out ahead of him. His friends expected him at practice; afterwards they’d convinced him to hang out with the whole group – which unfortunately included Shelby. Not that he’d taken much convincing; the last place Austin wanted to be was at home where his father could pile more guilt and recriminations on him; where he wouldn’t be talking to Sam until the wee hours of the morning.

His day looked bleak, his night bleaker, and it was then – as he was gathering his gear for the afternoon classes – that he decided he had to try and explain. Sam deserved an explanation for the way he was treating her; for the way he’d reacted at the pep rally. She deserved to know the truth as to his continued silence. The question now was would she read it.

Later, as he sat before his desk, staring at the screen with the blinking cursor, the question went from would she have the courage to read it, to if he would have the courage to write it… and in the end he couldn’t do it. No matter how much he owed it to Sam, the damage was done and there was nothing he could do to repair it without destroying his dad’s dreams or the illusions he held about his son. It wasn’t something that Austin felt he was quite ready to do and so, in the end, he chickened out and slowly deleted he same from the e-mail.

What Sam didn’t know would never hurt him and it was better, he rationalized, for the clean break. It didn’t help that, as he shut down his computer, his eyes burned with unshed tears and his chest ached as if he’d twisted the knife Shelby had so casually planted there during the pep rally. It felt as if he were saying goodbye… and he didn’t want to.