“Sam, that’s not going to happen.” Finn wriggled his pinkie from hers to grasp her hand tightly. “He’s not your father.”
“Oh God. That has nothing to do with it!” Sam pulled her hand from his.
“Okay, if you say so.” Finn pressed his lips together, knowing she’d made up her mind on the matter. “But it’s not all men—”
“I know that!” Sam exploded. “But it’snearlyall men—andyousaid you weren’t going to take this personally.”
“Sam,” Finn said quietly. “This isn’t about Leo and Becky, is it?”
“Urgh, Finn. Of course it is.” Sam marched away in the direction of the hot dog stand. Finn hurried after her.
“I said I didn’t want to talk about it with you,” Sam said harshly as he caught up with her. “I don’t want to fight with you—you’re the only person I can really talk to.”
“We’re not fighting,” Finn said taking her hand again.Or talking. “Come on, let’s get something to eat—some dessert maybe?”
“Dessert would be good.” Sam’s tone softened. “Something chocolatey.”
“Would waffles with chocolate and hazelnuts—”
“Yes. Hell yes.” Sam nodded furiously, all of the fight leaving her at the mention of the delectable dessert. “But I already know it won’t—can’t—compete with theSamwich!”
“I know.” Finn smiled. “Nothing can compete with theSamwich.”
“Do you think they have anything here remotely close to aSamwich?” Sam glanced around. “I could really do with some peanut butter banana goodness right about now.”
“I highly doubt it,” Finn said. “But if you’d unpacked already, you’d have seen that I managed to sneak peanut butter, graham crackers and a tub of salted caramel into your luggage. All you need now are bananas.”
“You did not!” Sam squealed and threw her arms around him. “Maya is gonna lose her mind! She still can’t understand what’s so delicious about it.”
“Clearly she’s a crazy woman,” Finn said, loving the huge smile that was on Sam’s face now. It had been an inspired idea to copy her kindness and sneak the goods into her bags.“What’s not to like about aSamwich—it’s basically a s’more only with peanut butter and banana.”
“I agree, she’s just a crazy lady,” Sam said as they made their way toward the waffle stall. “You know, aside from your sluttiness, you’re almost the perfect man.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Finn said, his heart sinking a little. Did she really think of him that way? Slutty. The word sank like concrete inside him, making his stomach hurt. Slutty implied all manners of things, and none of them good.
“You should,” Sam said, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort. “Oh! Strawberries!”
“You get the waffle; I’ll get the strawberries and chocolate sauce—and I’ll share.” Determined not to argue again, Finn forced a laugh. “But I get the last bite.”
“Hmmmm.” She grinned, her nose wrinkling in the way he loved. “But let’s share it—like they do in the movies!”
He watched her order their treats as the snow started to fall again. She treated him like he was her best friend, which technically he was, but then she said things like that—things that made his mind go to all the places he’d been trying so desperately not to go. Things that made him wonder if she sometimes thought about what it would be like to be something more than friends. Things that he wanted more than anything in the world—Sam, just Sam, to say she wanted to be his, only his, forever.
4
Sam
Leaning against the stall, Sam’s mouth watered as the waffles cooked on the pan in front of her. The sweet, hot air lifted her spirits, and she threw a smile at Finn who was paying for the strawberries and melted chocolate pot at the next stand. He winked back and her heart caught in her chest. He was looking at her a little differently, as if he was maybe flirting with her—which he couldn’t possibly be. Flirting wasn’t something they did. He was probably trying to take her mind off losing the Valestré sponsorship, but that wasn’t something she’d easily get over. No. But it was good of him to try, so she’d do her best to be more cheerful. It was the least she could do. Tilting her head, she waited for him to rejoin her.
“Here, get this into you.” He speared a chocolate-coated strawberry and held it out to feed her. Grinning, she gently took his hand and guided the strawberry into her mouth. His hand trembled under her touch, and she let go.
“Are you okay?” she mumbled around the strawberry. “You’re shaking.”
“Cold,” Finn said. “Just cold. I think it’s going to snow all night. Good for your qualie tomorrow.”
Sam wiped the chocolate from her lips. He was lying; she knew it. He was avoiding looking directly at her. And he kept pressing his lips together the way he always did when he wasn’t happy about something. There was definitely something in the air, not just the snow or her lost sponsorship, nor the prevailing desire to win at the Games. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it felt a little like nervousness, only it wasn’t radiating from everyone. It seemed to come from just her, and from Finn. He definitely seemed to be a little on edge, and he definitely did not want to talk about whatever was making him so nervous.
“Can you believe it?” Sam said as she took the hot waffle from the stallholder. “We made it, Finn. Pinch me! I can hardly believe it. We’re actually at the Olympics together. You’re already through to a final, and I have the first of my qualiestomorrow—the big air. And I know it’s one of my favorites but, oh God, I’m so nervous. What if I mess it up?”
