Sam grins at me, clearly pleased to have elicited such a response. I won’t deny that I’ve made him work for it, not having wanted anything to do with him or anyone else only a few hours ago. But Katie was right, a couple of drinks did do me some good. She’d reappeared eventually with my long-awaited beer, only Sam had already procured me several by that point. She’s since flounced off with one of his frat brothers, leaving me alone with him once more.
And … I’m actually having fun.
“Finally!” he says, pointing at my face. Some of his beer spills over from his plastic cup and dribbles down his hand, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“What?” I ask, though I know he’s referring to my smile. My laughing.
He shakes his head. “Turns out youcansmile.”
“I can,” I agree.
“Good. I thought you were a total bitch at first.”
I’m not surprised, nor am I insulted. That’s basically what I’d been going for. “And yet you still wouldn’t leave me alone,” I counter dryly.
He shrugs, his gaze dropping to my chest. “You’re hot.”
Heat rises to my face at his words, and I know I’m blushing. I down a big gulp of my beer to avoid looking at him, but he steps in close, once again invading my personal space and forcing me to look up into his face. It’s something he’s apparently very fond of doing—hovering over me—only this time I don’t attempt a retreat. No, this time, I stare up at him and allow myself to notice how attractive Sam actually is. It’s different than Riley as he’s less jock, more preppy, but attractive nonetheless. He’s got dirty-blond hair cut short, with high, sharp cheekbones, a defined jaw, and full lips that are almost feminine in their poutiness. I lick my own lips as I imagine what it might be like to kiss him. The thought is followed almost instantly by a sharp sting of pain right through my chest, but I shove it down.
Down, down, and away.
Riley’s not the person I kiss anymore. He’s busy kissing someone else. And there’s no reason for me to feel bad or guilty about imagining doing so with Sam.
“What happened?” Sam asks, running a hand along my arm. He’s very touchy-feely. “Where did you go just now?”
“Nowhere,” I say, shaking my head as I feel the sting of tears.
I will not cry.
I willnotcry.
He stares down at me intently. He has brown eyes, like mine, though much darker—a deep coffee to my warmer milk chocolate. It’s strange not to look up like this into grey ones so pale they’re nearly silver.
“You look sad.”
I turn my face away, squeezing my eyes shut. My head spins a little at the motion, but Sam steadies me, gripping tighter to my arm. He’s remarkably perceptive for a drunk frat boy.
“I’m going through a breakup,” I finally offer, knowing he’s not going to let it drop.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, then slides his other hand up to run a finger along my collarbone.
The touch raises goosebumps on my skin.
Do I like it?
I think I might.
He’s close,reallyclose. Is he about to kiss me? Yes, I think heis. We’re breathing the same beer-scented air, and … it’s not entirely unpleasant. Not anymore.
When his mouth closes over mine, I don’t fight it.
It’s short, and it’s … fine. It’s fine.
Oh God.
I kissed another man. And maybe it’s too soon, or maybe it’s because I’ll never be over Riley, but … it’s justfine.
No sparks.
