Disclaimer: Rookie Blue absolutely does not belong to me in any way. I'm just obsessed with it.
Rated T; for mature themes, I guess.
A/N: Just a quickie, following episode 7, 'Hot And Bothered'. I just watched it, because I promised myself I wouldn't until I posted chapter 4 of 'Rules Be Damned'.
I had to write this because I could kind of understand Andy walking out at the end (even if I didn't like it).
Sam/Andy, obviously.
Written in 2nd person, with Andy as 'you'.
Hope you enjoy!
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Looking at your phone, you can't believe the position you're in.
You never thought you'd be this girl.
You aren't.
Except … right now, you kind of are.
Just the thought of Luke doing something like this sends anger coursing through your veins. You don't know what you'd do if he cheated on you. And yet here you are, topless in Sam's bed, having been just seconds from committing an unforgiveable act.
(The worst is that a part of you can't seem to come to regret it. It's the same part of you that can still feel the bare skin of his chest and abdomen against yours; the same part that's aching for him to come back and continue.)
It makes you sick, to think of yourself like this. It makes you feel dirty, and whorish.
Feeling more tears pricking behind your eyes, much different than the ones you cried earlier at your apartment, you know you have to get out of here. Because if you don't, and he comes back, you're going to do things that you'll regret in the morning.
(And you want to do it. God, yes you do. You want him to come back and press his lips against yours, and take you in every sense of the word. But the last thing you want is to regret a night spent with Sam.)
Not to mention the affects it could have on your career (and his).
No, you can't do this. Not now. Not while you have boyfriend; not while he's your training officer, and you're his rookie.
You grab your shirt from where it was tossed aside, pulling it over your head. When you look up he's standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. There's a sad smile on his face. I guess everything goes back to normal, he says, pain and loss visible in his eyes.
You give him a sad smile back, because you don't want to leave; but you don't have much of a choice. You don't bother to straighten out your top before you stand up and brush past him.
You can feel his hands on your body, his lips on yours. But with great effort, you make it past him and to the door.
You hand resting on the handle, you resist the strong urge to look back. Because if you do, you know that you won't be able to fight it any longer. You'll go back to him, and won't be able to stop.
You turn the handle, walking out into the still-smothering evening air and closing the door behind you.
As you walk back down the street, pointed towards home, you know that you can't look back.
(No matter how much you want to.)
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Review, pretty please, and let me know what you think!
