Chapter 8 #2
From the corner of my eye, I saw Sam dart forward, arms out to catch me.
He wouldn’t make it.
I started to flinch, anticipating a face-to-ground impact.
Sam dropped to his knees, sliding forward the last few feet.
I continued to descend.
He continued forward.
And I face planted hard…
…right into his groin, completely missing his arms.
He grunted.
So did I.
Humor warred with pain. My face hurt. So did my groin. Obviously, pity pain.
Pressing my hands into the ground, I peeled my face from his zipper.
“I’m so sorry, Sam. Are you okay?” I asked, looking up at him.
His scrunched eyes and winced expression told me he wasn’t okay. But he let out a tight chuckle.
“I’ll be fine. Just need a second. How about you?”
Lifting myself off the ground, I wiped at my running nose, feeling both amused and mortified, which was an odd combination.
My hand came away with blood on it.
Great. I gave myself a bloody nose on Sam’s pen—
He opened his eyes and grabbed my face, tipping it toward him.
“You’re not okay,” he said, worry in his gaze. His thumbs pressed firmly just under my nose.
“Ow.”
“Wait a few seconds. It’ll slow the bleeding.”
The door opened behind him.
“Everything okay?” Mom called.
“Can you bring a towel, Ms. Carstein? Clarity has a bloody nose.”
She disappeared inside and returned a few seconds later, carrying a washcloth. Her expression was both amused—she’d seen my fateful fall, obviously—and concerned.
I held my hand out for the washcloth and would have pulled away from Sam once she handed it to me, but he didn’t let go of my head.
“Give it another minute,” he said.
For a second, I considered insisting on doing it myself so I could hide inside, but I liked the way his fingers felt against my scalp too much to give up this false display of affection.
Mom stood behind him, waiting. When he let go, he stole the damp washcloth from me and dabbed under my nose.
“I think it stopped. I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“Same,” I said.
He smirked. “Thankfully, I’m not bleeding.”
Mom snorted and went back inside.
Sam stood and offered me a hand up. His gait wasn’t exactly smooth as we followed Mom inside.
“So, about the haunted house…are you interested?” Sam asked.
I glanced at Mom, who was eating a slice of caramel apple in the kitchen.
She glanced between Sam and me and sighed.
“We both know you’re a danger to my daughter, Sam.”
I would rather reenact my humiliating face dive into his make-me-wish foundation than let Mom continue. I shot her a pleading look. If she stopped now, maybe he’d think she meant today’s fall.
“I swear I’m not. Clarity’s—”
She held up her hand. “Save it. I already told her I’m not going to stop her from spending time with you. She gave me her word it would never be alone. I expect you to help her keep that promise.”
“Understood.”
Mom took the plate of apple slices and closed herself in her room.
I felt disappointed and anxious as Sam looked at me.
“So that’s a maybe on the haunted house,” I said. “Let me see if I can get a friend from school to carpool with me, and we can meet you there.”
Monday, I invited Mirae to the haunted house on Friday to meet up with my friend. She loved the idea, and we confirmed our plans on Tuesday after she’d checked with her parents.
Unfortunately, Mom messaged that I’d need to walk home again. The walk didn’t bother me since I would be able to stop at the library. But I’d hoped to verify plans with her as soon as possible so I could tell Sam.
I hadn’t seen him since he’d stopped over on Sunday night to check on my nose and exchange books. At least, returning this batch of books gave me an excuse to check out new ones to pass to him.
Looking forward to our next book talk, I walked into the library, inhaling appreciatively.
Mr. Clint glanced up at me, and I smiled.
“Hey, Mr. Clint.”
He nodded and returned to his book.
Odd, but understandable. I didn’t like being interrupted when reading either.
I veered toward the shifter shelf and took my time selecting, searching for books that deviated from the standard pattern. I found a thinner volume titled Escaping the Lutha that looked promising.
With my picks in hand, I made my way to Mr. Clint.
“Returning these and checking out these,” I said, sliding the books toward him.
Like the book-snoop I was, I glanced at the title of his current read as he started scanning my books.
Journey of Souls. Next to it was The Physics of Consciousness.
Interesting topics. I wondered if they were new to the library. He was usually a murder mystery guy.
I looked up to ask about them, but noticed he didn’t look well.
“Are you feeling all right, Mr. Clint? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
I nodded as he handed my books to me. His fingers brushed mine in the process, and I could feel how cold they were.
“Hopefully, you can get more rest tonight.”
He nodded and picked up his book, silently dismissing me.
Definitely not feeling well.
Leaving the library, I opened my next read, the Lutha one, and lost myself in the twisted world of a crazy she-wolf.
Even though it didn’t follow the genre norms of the male’s instinct driving the mating urge, it still had heat—enough that I wasn’t sure I could hand it over to Sam without blushing because of what had happened on Sunday.
What would he have done if I’d been more like the female character and had taken the opportunity to do something other than bleed on him?
Probably scream and run away to shower.
Knowing that didn’t stop me from daydreaming about a completely different outcome the rest of the way home, though.