SAM IS STILL SHIMMYING BACK INTO HIS PANTSas Costa slams a bottle onto the kitchen counter.
“Remember, we don’t need to be scared of him,” Sam reminds me. Then, he snaps at Costa, “There’s such a thing as knocking, asshole.”
“Jesus, you two are like rabbits, huh? Every time I come by, there’s all kinds of sex going on.”
Sam glares at him. “Then, stop coming by.”
“Aw, don’t be so salty, Sammy. Look!” Costa waves his hands around. “No gun this time!”
I scramble to make sure that my dress is pulled down all the way—and to control the fear that is taking over. I can’t help it. Sam stands, and I put a hand on his leg. He looks down, and I see that his face is relaxed.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry.” Sam strides from the living room, pulls a fist back, and slams it squarely into Costa’s jaw.
Costa reels back and catches himself on the small dining room table. “Fuck, Sammy. That hurt.”
“Probably not enough.” Sam takes a second swing, hitting the exact same spot.
This time, Costa hits the floor. It takes him a minute to sit up, and he wipes his bloody mouth on the sleeve of his hoodie. “Glad I wore red.”
Neither of them moves for a bit. Eventually, Costa looks up at Sam, and I see something in his eyes that makes me think he might be more than just a murderous prick. Apparently, Sam does, too, because he lets out a loud sigh and reaches a hand down to Costa. He hesitates but then claps his hand into Sam’s. They stand face-to-face, and I’m afraid they’re going to erupt into a full-out brawl.
Instead, they both start laughing and throw their arms around each other.
Sam messes up Costa’s perfect black hair while holding him in a bear hug. “You haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you. But, dude, get a haircut.”
“So that I can be all pretty boy like you? I don’t think so.”
They are both smiling—and not killing each other—so I stand up and wait awkwardly until they separate. Costa looks shyly my way. He covers his mouth and clears his throat. Then, he walks toward me. I instinctively take a step back when he’s close, and he stops in his tracks.
“Sorry. Really. I didn’t introduce myself properly last time. Costa Jorden.” He drops down on one knee and extends a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”
His eyes are the darkest blue I’ve seen, and his skin is fair and smooth with barely a hint of stubble showing. I don’t care how handsome or charming he is.
I’m still pissed, and it’s all I can do not to snarl. “Your apology needs work.”
He cracks a smile. “Agreed. Sorry I shot and killed your boyfriend with no warning. It was horribly rude.”
I can’t help but smile back. “Better. Pour me some of that tequila, and you might be halfway there.”
Costa looks back to Sam. “I like her.”
“Not sure she likes you yet.”
He hops to a stand. “She will. Everybody does.”
Sam pulls down shot glasses from an open shelf. “It’s goddamn true.” He sits down in a chair at the table. “Are you pouring or what?” Then, he nods at me, giving the signal that all is safe.
I slip past Costa and stand in the embrace of Sam’s outstretched arm. “If that’s cheap tequila, you’re going back to the liquor store for something high-end.”
“Oh, she is not going to be easy to win over, is she?” Costa flips a chair backward and straddles it.
I glare at him. “No,sheis not. But if you brought limes, you’ll help your cause,” I say as I sit down in Sam’s lap.
Costa taps the side of his head and raises his eyebrows. “I’m no dummy.” Then, he pulls a lime from each pocket of his red hoodie and proudly holds them up.
Sam tosses him a pocketknife, and Costa catches it with one hand. He pours a shot and skims it across the table to me.
