“Then let’s get to know each other.” I reach down for my backpack and pull out a lunchbox, setting it down between us. “I obviously packed this before your confession,” I say, suddenly very self-conscious about Zayn’s reaction, “so I’m not trying to treat you like a charity case.” I flinch as Daniel’s words on Tuesday, and Zayn’s hostility when I’d offered him a bag of chips, float through my mind. “But I made us a snack for while we hang out and I hope you’ll accept it.”
I take the lid off the lunchbox to reveal the sandwiches I made this morning. “I don’t mean to brag, but even my ass hat brother admits that I make thebestsandwiches.”
I offer him a continental, and he hesitates for a moment before taking it.
“Thanks.”
I take one too and, with a big bite, groan in pleasure as I chew.
“Admit it. Best sandwich you’ve ever had.”
His eyes meet mine and I see a flicker of amusement flash through them before he takes a bite, chews and swallows, then says, “I’ve had better.” He glances down at his sandwich. “Too much butter.”
We both erupt into laughter, the ice well and truly broken, and then fall into comfortable conversation about our classes. I answer questions about my family while we finish eating. I’m careful to avoid any topic of Zayn’s home life unless he brings it up, which he doesn’t.
The next hour flies by in what feels like a minute, and before I know it, I hear the faint sound of the horn that signifies the end of basketball training. I don’t want to leave Zayn yet. In fact, I don’t want to leave this spot with himever,but if I don’t get my butt back up to the gym Tony will come looking for me. And I need Tony to tell my parents that I’m meeting some boy behind the gym like I need a hole in the head, that’s for sure.
I rip my bag open, ready to stuff my empty lunchbox back in, when I glimpse the object I tucked away in my bag on Tuesday night.
“Look,” I say slowly to Zayn. He’s sitting back against the step, watching me quietly while I pack my stuff away, in no hurry to leave himself. I briefly wonder how long he stays out here. Does he study here to avoid going home? Is it just him and his mum? Is his mother waiting for him at home with dinner ready like mine is? I stash the thoughts away for later.
“I know we just met, and we’re still getting to know each other. But I’m ready to give you my heart.”
He quirks an amused brow, waiting for me to elaborate. I pull out my seventh Harry Potter book, worn and weathered from the countless times I’ve read it, and cradle it to mychest. I’d annotated the pages with little pictures and thoughts I’d had while reading it. Will he think they’re stupid? I guess I’ll find out. I reach out with a shaky hand.
“For you. To borrow.”
I hand it to him and he takes it, not taking his dark eyes away from mine.
“Thanks,” he says slowly, before finally glancing down at the cover. “I’ll look after it for you.”
I didn’t know it then, but one day soon I would offer him myotherheart, the one that was beating wildly inside my chest, and he would reach out and take it just as easily.
12
The door to Sam’s office is ajar when I approach and I spy him sitting at his shabby desk, his curly orange hair just visible over the mountain of paperwork resembling Mount Everest that’s permanently stacked on his desk. I crack the door to the cramped room wider and slip inside, the combined smell of musty old things mixed with Sam’s cologne assaulting my nostrils the second I enter. Sam doesn’t notice me until I scrape the old steel chair with a ripped cushion across the floorboards and take a seat across from him.
It’s Thursday morning at Hope House, and apart from spending the last few days completely shoving down and ignoring the fact that my divorce lawyer is actually my first love, the one I never truly got over after he disappeared from my life one day without a trace, I’ve been busy taking steps to secure my future.
Sam’s head snaps up. His brows furrow over his warm, brown eyes as they meet mine between a gap in the paperwork.
“Gianna?” he says wearily, shifting a stack of papers tothe side to give me an unobstructed view of his face before he leans back in his chair. “What’s up?”
His bicep flexes as he runs a hand through his unruly curls, and not for the first time, I quietly acknowledge that Sam is a good-looking guy. If he didn’t spend all of his time at Hope House I’m sure he would have settled down with a nice girl by now.
“I have something to run by you,” I answer, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear and folding my hands into my lap. I don’t know why I feel so nervous when it’s just Sam I’m speaking to, but this is the first time in years that I’ve sparked any kind of passion for my future, and in turn, I’ve had an idea that can help Hope House.
“Go on,” he says with a kind smile. He interlaces his fingers behind his head and gives me his full attention. My heart swells. Sam always has time for everyone, no matter who you are, which means something to someone who has become a supporting actress in her own life story.
“Well,” I start, twisting my hands as I force myself to look into Sam’s eyes. “I’ve re-applied to finish my marketing and PR degree at university. The new semester starts next week and I’ve already been granted tentative entry by the course co-ordinator when I went in to meet with him yesterday, but I’ll officially be re-enrolled hopefully by the time classes start on Monday.”
A thrum of excitement sparks in my chest. I never lost passion for my chosen career path, just the will to fight Daniel to be able to complete my studies. Over time, I let the idea go, finally thinking I was too old to go back to university. But fuck that. It’s never too late, I’m starting to realise.
“Oh, that’s great news for you, Gianna,” Sam says, though his voice falls as he lets loose a breath. “Does that mean you’re not able to help out here anymore then?”
“What? No!” I quickly correct him, realising he’s come to his own conclusions about my news. “Quite the opposite, actually.”
Sam’s shoulders sink in relief as he looks at me to go on.
