Chapter 7 #2
“It’s a long walk to the pumpkin farm.”
I sighed and focused on my tacos.
After dinner, I messaged Mirae, but she’d already made plans with another friend.
Lying back on my bed, I stared at the ceiling, trying to find a solution. I didn’t have any other friends to ask, and getting a ride from Sam would break Mom’s alone rule and destroy our fragile truce. I really didn’t want to move in with my estranged grandma.
So, what option did that leave me?
Just one. I would need to tell Sam that I couldn’t go.
But I hated that option. I wanted to see him again. A lot. My chest tightened with the need to hear him…to breathe him in…to watch his smile.
This crush felt uncomfortably more intense than previous ones.
Was it because he was new and exciting, or better-looking than his predecessors? And better smelling.
I rolled over and groaned into my pillow, dreading tomorrow.
Mom watched me trudge into the kitchen and pour myself half a bowl of cereal.
“Friend can’t make it?”
“As you’ve pointed out on many occasions, I don’t have friends. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t be so desperate to hang out with Sam. I’d ask what I’m doing wrong, but you don’t have friends either, so…”
Lashing out at her didn’t help anything. I knew that. But I felt cornered into telling Sam I couldn’t go, and it left me restless and a little irrational.
“You’re in a mood. Didn’t sleep well?”
“I was up until three, trying to think of a way not to turn down the only person who’s made any effort to invite me anywhere. What do hermits wear nowadays? Can I check your closet?”
“You can check your attitude. Go outside before I start attacking back.”
Abandoning my bowl with a spoon-clanging thump, I walked straight out the door, uncaring that I still wore my koala pajamas.
The cold morning air cleared my head a little. Regret wormed its way in after a deep breath. I shouldn’t have talked to her like I had. Lashing out didn’t resolve issues. Then again, talking about them, our default method, hadn’t been working lately either.
I was just so angry that we couldn’t find a compromise on Sam. But why was I this angry? Sam and I weren’t close enough for this level of reaction.
Maybe that was the problem. I’d already started counting on something that wasn’t meant to be mine in the first place. His time. His calm energy. The way I felt alive and able to breathe every time I talked to him.
Sighing, I started down our walkway, the cold cement leeching the heat from my bare feet by the time I reached Sam’s place. The dread I felt easily stepped aside for anticipation the second I knocked on his door.
I should have tried harder to make a friend before Sam if this is what it felt like. The itch to see them…to talk to them…to laugh and have fun just kept growing.
Don’t kid yourself, Clarity. It’s not because he’s your friend. It’s because he’s gorgeous and you want to—
Sam opened the door, and my brain forgot how words worked.
He had sexy bedhead. Like he’d run his hands through it and given up halfway.
My gaze briefly met his surprised one before it slid to the real reason for my mental malfunction.
No shirt.
Broad shoulders. Defined chest. Arms that looked like they could lift me without straining. And abs. Glorious abs.
My gaze continued its wistful descent following that forbidden V ridge and landed on…
Grey sweatpants.
Avert your gaze, Clarity! Abort. Abort. Abort. He’s going to know!
“Clarity?”
Eyes wide in panic, I forced my gaze back to his and struggled to breathe through the most intense surge of girl-lust I’d ever experienced in my life.
He frowned, his gaze darting to my bare feet.
“Is everything all right? Do you want to come in?”
“No, I—” I swallowed hard, trying to get my thoughts out of hot-guy-stutter mode and into explanation mode.
“Just a second,” he said.
He disappeared behind the door for a second and returned with a pair of men’s slippers. Surprising me, he crouched and lifted one of my feet.
I yelped, off balance, and grabbed his head like I was catching a flying basketball.
He chuckled. “Sorry. I forgot you’re gravity challenged.”
I made a face and lightly tugged his hair while he helped me put the slippers on.
When he straightened, he kept a hand on my waist for a second, watching to make sure I wouldn’t tip over, before letting go.
Yep, Sam was definitely dangerous, like Mom said, but for completely different reasons. He was attentive. He noticed me on a level no one else ever had.
“Did you have another argument?” he asked when I didn’t say anything.
“No. Not really. I just—“
A storm of confusing emotions made it hard to speak. Yearning. Nervousness. Guilt. Excitement. I could barely think through it all.
Taking a slow breath, I tried again. “I can’t go to the pumpkin farm with you. I’m sorry.”
There. I’d said it.
The yearning and excitement faded with the nerves. The guilt stayed.
“Hey, it’s no big deal,” he said, touching my arm comfortingly. “We can try to go some other time.”
“I don’t think we can.”
“Oh.”
He withdrew his hand, and I felt a little like crying. But I didn’t know what to say to make it better. He wasn’t the problem. Neither was I.
“I’d better go.”
He nodded. “Keep my slippers for now so you don’t hurt your feet on the way home. Just don’t trip, okay?”
“I won’t. I really am sorry, Sam.”
He smiled slightly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you soon.”
As I headed home, the ache in my chest grew with each step—quiet, unsettled, and annoying in a way I couldn’t explain.