“Damn it.”
He laughs at my response. “You’re such a menace.”
“Don’t think I’m not going to try to wear you down.”
“Oh, I look forward to your efforts, Kitty Kat.”
The problem with this little game I started is that it’s left me feeling hot, bothered, and wondering why Sam has been thinking about my mouth.
We keep chatting and before I know it, it’s 10:00 p.m. “Shit, I don’t know how it got so late.”
“I guess you need to get to bed?”
“A girl needs her beauty sleep.”
“You will always be beautiful, sleep or not.” His words cause butterflies in my stomach, and I feel the flush rise on my cheeks.
He thinks I’m beautiful?“Thanks.”
“I’m glad you called tonight. It was nice talking with you.”
“You too. Let’s do it again soon?”
“Definitely. Goodnight, beautiful.” My heart stutters at his compliment.
“Goodnight, Sammy.” It feels right to use the nickname I gave him when we were kids.
***
The next morning, I wake to a message from Sam again. A smile forces across my face.
Good morning, beautiful!
I'm on my way back to Chicago. I hope you have agreat day!
Checking the clock, he’s probably already on the plane. I type out a quick message.
Have a safe flight. Please let me know when you get home.
Sam finally messaged me a little after noon.
Now who's the mother hen?
I just made it home. Can I call you tonight?
6?
Can't wait!
***
The next few weeks pass quickly. Sam and I continue to text and call each other daily. We talk about everything: how work was going, anything that happened that was out of the ordinary, and plans we have for the weekend.
Everything except the topics I most need to know: what happened in Seattle and why he didn’t marry Claire. I have so many questions, but I don’t think a phone call or text message is the right way to get answers.
Twenty Years Old
I’m glad the summer is here and I’m back in Charleston. I can’t stop thinking about Sam and how I left things with him.
