“As if I would, though I should’ve. Eating with you is like having twelve siblings.”
Sam sniggered, but it was muffled by the ginormous bite of food he’d crammed in his mouth.
Cute as fuck.
I claimed a sandwich and made short work of it while Sam polished off the other three. He was quiet, which wasn’t unusual after a long shift, and I was hardly Mr Chatty, but for some reason, tonight his silence got under my skin. I nudged him. “Everything okay?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re quiet. Have I upset you?”
Sam’s bemusement deepened. “Why do you always assume you’ve upset me? You’ve literally never upset me in your life.”
That made him unique. Of everyone I’d ever been close to, I couldn’t pinpoint any who’d make that statement so confidently. “Sorry. I just...”
“What?” Sam leaned closer. His thigh brushed my hip, then closed the distance between us so his leg was flush against mine. “HaveIupsetyou?”
“What? No! Why would you say that?”
“Because I thought that’s what we were doing—asking ridiculous questions.” He scanned the coffee table, clearly seeking more food. His gaze fell on the book he’d brought back from the library for me a few days ago. “Did you start this yet?”
“Um... yeah.”
“Are you lying?”
“No.”
Sam picked the book up—City of Thieves—and traced the title with his finger. “Tell me something about it.”
“They all die at the end?”
He pouted. “When I said it was written by one of theGame of Thronesdudes, I didn’t mean it was the same. You haven’t even picked it up, have you?”
“Course I have.”
“Then tell me something about it.”
“They’re going to kill the chicken.”
“Huh?”
I took the book from him and flipped it to the page where I’d abandoned it. “They just found the dude with the chicken. They’re going to take it off him and kill it, so I’m out. I don’t want to read that shit.”
Sam pursed his lips, a telltale sign he was trying not to laugh. “You’re really going to read that much of a book, then discard it because some young boys in a starving city are going to eat a pet chicken? Well, cockerel, actually, but the point still applies.”
“I don’t care what the point is. I don’t like it.”
Sam’s expression softened. He took the book from me and returned it to the coffee table. “I forget how sweet you are.”
I scowled. “Fuck off.”
“I will not. It’s true.”
“It’s really not. You’re the only person in the entire world who has ever used that word to describe me.”
“Then maybe the world needs to know you better.”
“I’d rather it didn’t.”
