He doesn’t check every night for the outline of a heart that doesn’t come.
Despite that, I force a smile. “Thanks. I hope so.”
Chapter 37
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
Here goes nothing…
Today is the day.
Actually, that’s a lie.
It has beenthe dayfor three days, but I have been anxiously stalling, chatting with my journal as though the dang thing has ever given me a Samson clue in its life, and doing stupid stuff in an effort to calm my nerves.
Thestupid stuffso far has consisted of going to the mines with Pyro—Samson didnotlike that—heading to Slate’s and helping him put together an essay on innovative tactics that could save lives in combat—Samsonalsowas not a fan—and having a girls’ day, where I did my very best not to cry and scream or hog the show with my panic.
Samson didn’t mind that one so much. But I did fail in my mission of not letting my panic hog the show.
By the end of the tea party, Ines told me to stop being a wuss and proposetomorrow—today—and Samson, while not as irritated by my choice of company this time, did ask if he’d done something wrong that made me feel like I had to spend a lot of time not at home, i.e. away from him.
Let’s be honest—our schedule has been fairly set for weeks.
My antisocial blood stalked me all the way from the other world. Planning day-longeventswithothersthree days in a row is a massive cause for concern.
Samson issweetenough to know that,notjealous. He also probably felt neglected when I didn’t bring him home any pastries from the tea party. I know I would have felt neglected had our roles been reversed.
It’s just that, well, there were no leftover pastries.
I ate them all.
And cried.
I ate them all salted with my tears.
The Hardee’s flashbacks were not helpful.
Dead convinced that no one would everlovelove me, I sobbed and ate. And trauma-dumped. For hours. Because I know I mentioned how my parents couldn’t even normal love me. In broad daylight. To Aurelia’s teary, relating horror.
Go me.
Oversharing queen.
Actually, it’s kinda brutal that Ines responded withJust Propose To Him Tomorrow, For *insert swear word here*’s Sake. Considering she’s decided we’re at eight friendship hearts, I am boggled there wasn’t an ounce more care put into her reply.
“Is everything okay?” Samson asks, running his thumb across my knuckles as we make our way to the Mystic Forest. While holding hands. Because we do that. All the time.
Friends hold hands. No big deal.
A shiver courses down my spine, and not because it’s nippy these days. “Y-yes? Why do you ask?”
Samson’s attention burns into the side of my head, because I can’t bring myself to look at him. “You’re…tense. I hope you didn’t feel obligated to spend time with me after our conversation last night.”
That makes me meet his eyes. “What? No. Samson, I love spending time with you. I…” Nerves congest, like they do. “I’m sorry I’ve been out a lot this week.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong. I wouldn’t think anything of it if it weren’t so…odd for you. You’re acting odd.”
I am a panic slime, barely held together beneath the paper-thin membrane of my skin. “I’m sorry.”
