“Lukas Farren, I know you can hear me.”
I stopped, hung my head, and turned. “Samuel.”
He ran up stumbling a little, smiling. “Sam or Sammy is cool…or Samuel, whatever.Pfft.” He cut the air with his hand as he tried to calm down. Clearly, he wasn’t the athletic type.
“I have an appointment, Sam, so if you could get to the reason you stopped me.”
“Sam. See, you called me Sam.”
I rolled my eyes and began walking again. I was obviously unlucky, because he followed beside me.
“What kind of appointment are we headed to?”
“We?” I lifted a brow and regarded him. He was beaming so hard, I thought his face might split.
“Fine, you.”
Sam wasn’t going anywhere soon and I wasn’t one to be late, so I accepted my fate. “I’m going to Abbadelli’s.”
“Ohhhhh, getting a suit. Doing something fancy?”
I glanced at the man, with his sprinkling of freckles and sandy blond hair, and wondered exactly how old he was. He acted like a child.
“Upon my arrival here, my garment bags went missing with my tuxedos. I require one for a gala next month.”
“You answered that so poshly.”
I hummed, not really wanting to talk. A quick look at my watch showed I had plenty of time, but I hoped Sam would leave me be when I got to the shop.
“Anyway, so what gala? Is it here in Brookridge?” His nose scrunched up. “I don’t know of any happening.”
“It’s in New York.”
“Even fancier.”
I sped up slightly, but Sam kept pace. I could hear his heart beating faster with the exertion, but he wasn’t faltering.
“Did you know there are over eight hundred languages spoken within the five boroughs of New York?”
“Yes.” I sighed.
“Cool. And New York City was first called New Amsterdam by the Dutch settlers.”
“I did…what’s with the random facts, Sam?”
He shrugged. “I know a lot of random things, and you said you were going to New York, so I thought I’d share some.”
“Well, don’t feel obligated to share every thought in your head with me.”
He chuckled. “I see you’re still as charming as ever.”
I halted my step and faced him. “Why do you persist?”
“My dad always told me to never give up, and I really think we could be friends. You’re reluctant.”
“Your father is wrong; sometimes you should give up. I’m reluctant for a reason.”
It was subtle, but his smile dipped briefly and his eyes dimmed. “Was.”
