6. Sam
SAM
Her image rises in my mind, stuck like a constant.
Those clear, expressive eyes, aquamarine waves crashing on the shore, darkening in the night, getting sultrier with every kiss. Her nose, pert and sloped with a nice arch at the top, wider at the base. Her ears, elven, a tad too long with an adorable tip that’s just begging to be sucked.
And those lips...
God, those lips...
I don't know how I managed to drag myself away from them.
Plump and soft and so giving. An object of my every lustful desire. Pink, pillowy, sweet as ambrosia. And her skin, soft and pale as alabaster, like cotton giving underneath my hands, molded to perfection and–
My front door opens and slams. Irritation spirals through my psyche, but I ignore it, hoping that the intruder just leaves without the need to interrupt me.
But when I hear footsteps coming down the stairs of my basement, I know I’m shit out of luck.
“Sam!” It's Adam’s voice calling. “Are you down there?”
I don't answer, hoping he takes the hint and leaves, but of course, Adam never could do that. He’s always been a nosy bastard.
“There you are." He clears the last rung, walking into my basement studio. "You know I wouldn’t have to come here looking for you if you would just answer your damn phone when I call.”
“I left it somewhere,” I mutter, not losing concentration as I carve the side of her neck, slicing down the gentle slope, making sure I don’t make a mistake. Adam comes around the back to eye me. A shocked intake of breath later, and I know what he’s going to say before he says it…
“Is that...”
“Yes,” I say.
Another shocked silence. Perhaps he’s surprised that I’m spending time carving a woman I only just met weeks ago. Hell, I'm surprised too. I wasn’t expecting this either, that she would haunt me from that day forward.
Unbeknownst to the other two, I saw her the second we walked into the party.
She was standing at the side, running her hand down her arm in obvious discomfort.
It was really her eyes that got me first, the way they scanned the room as she people watched, then her lips curving into a smile when she heard something funny.
She hung out at the outskirts of the group talking, and she didn’t contribute much, just watching. '
She was obviously in her head, but a part of her didn't seem to mind.
A part of her may have even enjoyed the inner conversation she was having with herself, despite the discomfort she felt in being around others.
Or was that just wishful thinking on my end?
She reminded me a little of myself.
I spent an inordinate portion of my youth just watching people talk and converse with each other without participating myself.
I was selectively mute for the first seven years of my life, and so by the time I was ready to have conversations, I felt a little behind and also found it hard to care about the things that they cared about.
Eventually, I learned to mask my discomfort better, especially after getting my ass kicked throughout middle school. I got bigger and stronger in high school too, and started attracting women, but would scare them off with my terrible social skills.
I thought that would be my fate, for the rest of my life, until Jake and I met in senior year and he basically forced his friendship on me, in that aggressively extroverted way of his. And then we met Adam in college, and he joined in.
I would say I'm probably closer to Adam now than I am to Jake. Adam tends to have more patience for my idiosyncrasies and doesn't get as annoyed when I need space from him.
Lately, I guess I've been pissing Jake off so much that we rarely hang out alone anymore.
We do work together, though, so it's not like we can avoid each other forever, but there's a notable strain in our relationship that I'm not quite sure what to do about.
I'm not sure if I should do something about it. He's probably better off without me. Adam too.
They're both better off without babysitting the weird, obsessive freak who spent all weekend painting and carving sculptures of a woman he met once, immortalizing her in clay, oil, and wood.
I guess maybe I'm still trying to figure out what it is about her that's drawn me so totally and irrevocably. Why was I so attuned to her that I basically watched her the entire time she was in the living room?
Even when I walked in and saw her making out with Adam, I should have been turned off, but no. That curiosity grew into a full-blown desire.
It’s the way she didn’t hold back. The way she went for it, grasping his hair, rubbing herself against his chest, swallowing his tongue in her mouth.
It was all I could do not to tear him away from her so I could get some of that for myself.
It was all I could do not to take her somewhere where it’s just the two of us and caress her body for hours.
It was too rushed. We had sex all night, but it still feels like it wasn’t enough time.
I told myself that I would have more later. In the morning, I would officially ask her on a date, and I would take her somewhere where it would just be the two of us, and we could just talk.
And then I’d take her home and make love to her the way I wanted to, slowly exploring every inch of her delectable body, making her squirm and squeal and scream.
However, that never came to pass, because the next morning she was gone, leaving me with a ghost of a boner and an ache in my chest.
Almost every night since then, I’ve dreamt about her.
“This is…” Adam starts, and I can feel the lecture coming even though he doesn’t complete the sentence. He wants to tell me it’s crazy to carve her. That it’s obsessive and doing so makes me look like a psychopath.
“So this is why you haven’t left your house in a few days? And haven't answered my calls."
I shake my head. “I haven't answered your calls because I don't feel like talking."
He narrows his eyes. "Yeah, you don't get to pull that bullshit when we work together."
"We finished that last project we were on. The building is up and running. I wanted a break."
"From us?"
I shrug. "I just wanted to be by myself for a while. I still do." The news I received a week ago is also rattling in my brain, demanding to be acknowledged. But I don't acknowledge it.
The second I acknowledge it, I'll have to deal with it.
And God forbid, Adam or Jake, find out about it. They'd want me to talk to them about it, or start recommending a psychologist again, and that's the last thing I need.
I just need to be alone. I'll deal with it the same way I always do. Alone.
And by apparently, becoming obsessed with a new muse.
Adam hasn't answered because he's busy taking in the rest of it. The carvings. The paintings. The sketches. I have her out laid out in different forms in different media, about a dozen so far.
Okay, now he can safely call me crazy.
“You’re fucking insane.”
"You should be glad it’s just this, and I didn't take it further.”
“Glad? Glad that one of my best friends is basically some kind of obsessed stalker.’
“I haven’t stalked her. Kind of hard to stalk anyone when you don’t even have their name, or their number, or any other identifying information.
” Rookie mistake on my part. I should have gotten at least a name before I ate her pussy.
But I didn’t think she would run out on me in the morning either.
How was I to guess that such a thing would happen?
"But if you did have those things, you would stalk her, wouldn’t you?" Adam sounds disgusted, but he just doesn't get it. He thinks that all these things make me a psycho.
But I was already a psycho when he met me. I can’t help these obsessive tendencies. I would never harm her or anyone else because of them, but I do need some kind of outlet, or it will drive me crazy.
"Listen, I didn’t want to get into this, but seeing how far gone you are, there’s something you should know."
"What?"
"I saw her."
My heart stops beating for a second. I drop the carver and stare at him. "You saw her?"
"Yes."
"Is she okay? Is she hurt? Did you figure out her name?"
"No, but I did figure out that he has a boyfriend."
"A boyfriend?"
"James. Remember when he said he was going to introduce us to his girlfriend at the party? And he said she'd already been at the party when we arrived, but she was waiting for him in one of the rooms. And he said that she said she'd seen us."
"Yeah." I frown. "That doesn't mean what you say it means, though."
"It's more than just that," he continues. "I saw them together when I went to get us some coffee. They were hugging pretty intimately."
"So? Friends hug. Families hug."
"I hung around a little at the coffee shop and saw them entering the restaurant across the street. They sat by the window so I had a clear view. He kept stealing fries from her plate."
"Now who's the stalker?" I mock, and he rolls his eyes.
"I was meeting someone there. Anyway, you know how James is. He has a lot of friends, but he's not that close to anyone. So she could only be his girlfriend."
"Close and girlfriend are two different things," I say stubbornly. "I think you might just be mistaking your military family, where no one shows anyone affection, for a normal one.”
He rolls his eyes. "Listen, you don't want to believe it, and I get it.
You want her to still be available because then you can obsess over her in peace.
But this isn't healthy. This is the type of shit I should call the police for, or at least have you committed so you can't be a danger to yourself or anyone else. "
"Now, you're being a jackass. I'm not a danger to anyone."
"Aren't you?"
"No," I glare at him, mad that he would even suggest a thing like that.
He eventually blows out a frustrated breath, running his hand through his hair.
"We have a meeting with James in a few days to finalize the merger," he says. "I'm not sure how this is going to work if you're lusting after his girlfriend the entire time."
"If she is his girlfriend."
"Sam–"
"Are you going to lie and tell me that you haven't been thinking about her, too? That you're not craving her too?"
His jaw clenches. Fire lights in his eyes, and I know I'm right.
"That's what I thought. At least I'm being honest with myself."
"You're being a child," he sighs. "We're taking on a new project tomorrow, so make sure you show up on time."
"Noted," I say, and he leaves shortly. Once again, I'm alone with my paintings.
Except now I can't focus.
I'm faced with a different type of torment, the thought that she might be in love with another man.
I didn't mind sharing her with the other two for sex, but in real life, I want her to be mine.
Not James’s.
So if she is his...
I consider the face half-formed in front of me.
Well, maybe I'll just have to steal her.