"Oh." It comes out like a gasp and I blush again. I'd pour flour all over myself if it'd get him to touch me so sweetly like that.Jesus,I can barely recognize myself in my own thoughts. I close my eyes for a brief moment to pull myself together. "Do you want to sit down?" I offer when I've reminded myself of my manners.
Sam heads to the living room and sits gracefully, stretching his arms along the arm and back of the sofa, and rests his ankle on his opposite knee. He takes up so much space with his height and build, sucking all of the energy from the room and replacing it with one that is singularly his. It's nervous and thrilling and is entirely juxtaposed by the memory of Carl sitting in that same spot only a couple of hours earlier. His hair has gradually grown since I first met him, and now it falls in a thick wave, some locks hanging into his eyes until he pushes it back again. I find myself thinking how much I'd like to run my own fingers through that hair. His deep blue eyes are intense, and they follow me across the room as I make to join him on the couch.
"So, any of that flour get anywhere other than all over you?" he asks. I look down to see that he's right; I have patches of white powder everywhere. I stand back up to untie the back of my apron.
"If Chelsea were here she'd be screamin' that it's cocaine to anyone who'd listen," I mutter.
Sam watches me as I bunch up the apron and walk toward the kitchen where the door to the laundry room is open, and toss it in the laundry basket. "Well she'snothere, and my guess is she won't be anywhere you are for a while," he calls out as I put some muffins on a plate in the kitchen.
I set it on the coffee table in front of him and resettle on the couch, folding my legs under me so I can face him. "What do you mean?" I ask, but before he can respond, the floodgates open. "The dean called to ask my mom in for a meeting about yesterday. I thought everyone would be spittin' that rumor about me havin' a baby, and worse, but they're not, are they." It almost comes out like an accusation, though I'm not sure I mean it to.
Sam shakes his head. "No, they're not." He watches me cautiously, like he's not sure if I'm going to yell at him or not.
"You manipulated the rumors," I say, and it isn't a question. Sam doesn't deny it. In fact, he doesn't say anything, he just stares at me. "And the story about my scar... the car accident? That was you, too?"
Sam gives a sharp nod, still watching me intently, as if he doesn't know how I'm going to react.
In that moment I feel overwhelmed. Touched. I don't know what I did to deserve the loyalty and friendship of this man, but I value it beyond measure. I treasure it. And him. I don't mean to get emotional, but I do. I blink away tears, inwardly chiding myself for being so dramatic. "Thank you," I whisper.
Sam's relief is instant and obvious. He rakes his hand through his hair and lets out a deep exhale."Shit,Ror, don't cry," he breathes, and swipes his thumb across each of my cheeks to rid my tears.
I shake my head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so emotional." I laugh at myself, in wonder at the fact that even when I'm not upset, I'm somehow in tears. "You're a real good friend, Sam. I mean it. Thank you," I say earnestly and fling my arms around his neck in a hug. He's surprised, as Carl was, I can tell. Obviously he knows I have issues with being touched, but I've hugged him before, and I feel no fear in his arms, which after a brief hesitation, wrap around me and pull me even tighter against him. He smells so damn good. Clean, masculine, and faintly of aftershave. I want to sigh, but I hold it in, and I pull away first before I can trick myself into believing I have any right to be there - in his arms.
Sam smiles wistfully. "What are friends for?" he replies, and I laugh.
"I knew you'd say that!" I admit, and Sam's wistful smile grows into a full-fledged grin. I'm glad the mood is lightening up. I gesture to the plate on the coffee table. "So, taste my muffin, you deserve it."
Sam's eyes widen in shock. "Oh, what Dave would do with that one," he says with a chuckle as I replay my words in my head and, once again, turn crimson on him. I push at his chest playfully, but avert my eyes, embarrassed.I must learn to think before I speak.
Sam takes the plate and takes a healthy mouthful, downing half the muffin in one bite. "Mmm," he moans.
I love the sound. Even more than the sound of his laugh. And I watch as he eats, positively riveted at how his adam’s apple moves up then down as he swallows, how his perfectly chiseled jaw rolls in rhythm as he chews, andGod, how he licks the crumbs from his lips. I think of how strange it is to find such a mundane thing so fascinating.
"So," he says, when he's finished the first muffin in no more than three bites. "Speaking of Dave... I wouldn't be too worried about that meeting with the dean."
"What? Why not? And what on earth would it have to do with Dave?"
"Well, apparently Lily was with Chelsea yesterday..."
Yes, I know. I was there.
"She says she had no idea what Chel was gonna do, but anyway, long story short, she told the dean it was all Chel's fault. Everything."
"Why would she do that?" I ask, skeptical.
Sam picks the plate back up and starts on the second muffin. "Well, I'd like to say she had a crisis of conscience, but more likely-"
"Dave." I cut him off. "You had Dave convince her to tell the truth."
Sam narrows his eyes at me. "Well, I may have explained to him the merits of using his influence with Lily to get her to do the right thing," he admits. He pauses. "And... Chelsea's been suspended for two weeks. So she won't be back until after break." I open my mouth to speak but he holds his hand up to stop me. "And before you try to get out of going away with us, she's not coming anymore. Her mom grounded her. Cancelled her trip."
In a flash I register my shock that Chelsea's not coming, my relief, and my shock at my relief that I can still attend a trip I wasn't sure I wanted in the first place. I also wonder how it is Sam seems to anticipate my concerns, to know what I'm thinking. I had that with Cam, but Cam's and my friendship was the product of fourteen years of being inseparable. I've only known Sam a few months, and when I met him I had walls up so thick I'd never have thought anyone would break through them.How in the hell did we get here?
"Ror?"
"Yeah?" I realize I've been quiet for too long, but I don't know what to say.
"You'll still come... right? I mean, I want you there. It's our senior spring break. Chel won't be there, and that's her own damn fault, so you have no reason to change your mind about it," he insists. "I know you're worried about it, but you'll be fine, okay? It's going to be fun. You'll have your friends, and we'll have a blast."
