‘What’s your plan?’
‘You think I’m mysterious?’
My head cocks to the side as I raise an eyebrow. ‘Maybe.’
‘What makes you say that?’
Crossing my arms, I try everything within my power to give him my most intense stare, but it’s hard to stay focused on his face when his bare chest is right there.
‘You’re Sam. But you’re not how I remember you. Or even how I imagined you to be.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘You’re enjoying this far too much.’
‘I find it interesting,’ Sam says.
A gentle breeze ruffles my T-shirt and I run fingers through my tousled hair.
‘Well, what I mean by that is you’re a beefcake,’ I say, and we both laugh. ‘I mean, look at you. You’re, like… stacked.’
‘Stacked?’
‘Stacked,’ I repeat. ‘Muscle. Flesh. Width.’
‘Width.’ He winks, wriggling his eyebrows.
I laugh. ‘Get your mind out of the gutter, Mr Greer. The Sam I knew was scrawny and small and weak.’
‘I was not weak.’
‘Sam, you couldn’t even climb the rope in PE.’
Sam grimaces, cheeks blushing red, looking all the more adorable for it. ‘Don’t remind me.’
‘Well, I’m going to. We were the kids that would rather have a fake doctor’s note than do any sport.’
‘We weren’t even teenagers when I left.’
‘True. Puberty hadn’t even started.’
‘Speak for yourself.’
‘Sam, one armpit hair wasn’t puberty,’ I say, recalling a sleepover we had as kids, when he shoved his armpit right into my face.
‘You remember that?’
‘Yeah.’ How strange to have something like that lodged in my memory.
He looks at me now like a scientist observing a germ on a Petri dish.
‘So, what did you think I’d be like?’
‘I guess I hadn’t given it too much thought,’ I say. ‘But naturally, I thought of you. I imagined you still being tall and thin. A lanky lad with messy hair and an awkward personality. The type of person who doesn’t make eye contact or grin widely.’
‘You think I grin widely?’ Sam grins his widest smile.
‘You’re doing it right now,’ I say. ‘You’re a golden retriever personified.’
