“Good luck, Tristan,” she says, laughing.
A few minutes later, the last of the stragglers leave and Sam locks the door behind them.
He turns to face me. A moment of charged silence stretches between us. “You need to put more effort into your acting.”
“Do I?”
Huffing a laugh, he pushes away from the door and walks towards me. “You’re not supposed to open your eyes during class, even if you’re not participating.”
I tilt my head. “You opened your eyes.”
“I’m the teacher. I need to check on my students.”
“Is that what that was?” I grin as he stops in front of me. “I for one felt thoroughly checked out… I mean, on.” There it is, the blush. I really shouldn’t tease him for the sake of getting another hit, but it seems resistance is futile.
“I’ve never…” He looks away, clasping his hands together. “I mean, I don’t… you’re…” Heaving a sigh, he rolls his eyes before meeting my gaze with steadfast determination. “I like you, all right?” The words burst from his mouth in a rush. “When you look at me that way, it’s hard to look away.” He stands there, stock still and staring, while he awaits my response.
I have no idea what to say. Flirtation is one thing, but Sam’s blatant admission, offered without a hint of guile, goes a step further. It’s an overture. A prelude to something more. That’s not a line we should cross. Not when we still have so much work to do before we inevitably part ways.
My gaze lowers and I back up a step. “I’ll keep my eyes closed next time. Promise.” I turn to retrieve my backpack from its spot near the shelves. “Your new plan is ready. Shall we go over it before I head off?”
“Sure.” The false smile he pulls into place bleeds disappointment from every curve. “Or… dinner?” he suggests half-heartedly. “I have plenty.”
“You cooked?” I can’t hope to disguise my eagerness. After tasting his cooking, the lack of flavour in my frozen meals has become glaringly apparent. I never paid them much attention before. They were sustenance, a way to get from one day to the next. Sam’s food is so much more. It’s care and attention. It’s the warmth of a home that’s known love and happiness. The taste makes me homesick for a time and place I’ve almost forgotten I once knew.
I can’t ever get that feeling back, not for myself. But Sam’s kitchen overflows with it. Maybe I can stay and, kind of, borrow it for a while. “I’d like that.”
His expression brightens and he gestures for me to precede him up the stairs.
“You first,” I insist.
With a simple nod, he goes ahead of me.
The lower part of the narrow staircase has a railing on either side, so I place a hand on each as I follow him. The right one wobbles in my hand. I stop, my heart kicking up into my throat. “This railing is loose.”
Sam glances back over his shoulder. “I know. It’s one of the many things in this house I need to have fixed.”
“You shouldn’t wait. It’s a safety hazard.”
He stops on the landing. “It’s a little wobbly, but it’s not that bad. I’m the only person who uses these stairs. And Yolanda. And now you.”
Swinging my backpack down off my shoulder, I pull my phone out. “I know someone who can fix it. You could call him tomorrow. He usually comes out on the same day, so—”
“Tristan.”
I stop talking. Sam’s looking at me as if I’m mental. He’s not wrong. Swallowing the rest of my speech, I reshoulder my pack and climb the stairs to stand in front of him. “It’s dangerous. I don’t want you to have an accident.”
“When I’m ready, I’ll ask for the number,” he says. “Until then, I promise I’ll be careful.”
Left with little other recourse, I give a mute nod.
“Come on, I’m famished.” He jogs up the remaining steps towards the closed door at the top.
I bite back an admonishment to be careful. It’s inappropriate and likely to get me and my empty stomach kicked out.
Be normal, Tristan. For five freaking minutes be normal.
NINE
