Samantha
SAMANTHA
C handler thinks I can’t handle having a one-night stand? I’ll show him. Maybe I’ll do it again when we get back to Florida, and I’ll have sex with the guy who likes to flirt with me at the deli on top of Chandler’s stupid Maserati.
Chandler interrupts my fantasy.
“See that?” He points behind me to the other end of the bar, and I turn to see John talking and flirting with a tall blonde where I was just sitting.
“So?”
“So, doesn’t it bother you just a little bit that he’s openly flirting with another girl after talking you up?”
“Talking me up? You really need to work on talking like a normal human. And no, it does not.” It totally does, but I won’t tell him that. I only talked to John for a full ten minutes and thought he was into me, but I guess it's fine. Kind of. I’ve been feeling on edge since Chandler kissed me earlier today, and all of this energy needs to be channeled towards anyone but him.
“Maybe you're cock-blocking me again," I say to him .
He looks at me quizzically. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Did you tell him we were partners again?”
“Not at all," he says with a cheeky smile.
“Well, whatever. I’m sure there are other takers.”
“Good luck," he says and sips his drink.
I scan the bar and spot a guy at a pool table with a group of guys. He catches my eye and smiles, then turns away when someone taps him on the shoulder for him to take his turn to shoot.
“What about him?” I point to the man by the pool table, and Chandler’s eyes narrow.
“Not him.” He shakes his head.
"And why not?"
“Pretty sure he comes with a warning label.”
“ You should come with a warning label," I retort.
He rolls his eyes. “And you call me immature. Anyway, would it be all right if we stop at my grandfather's old house? I want to see why Cheyenne is asking for help with it.”
Might as well since he’s continuing to cock block me. I should try to do this one-night-stand thing on my own, without Chandler around anyway. Part of me wonders if it’s because he wants me for himself. I miss Penny. She's an excellent wingman. Then again, knowing her, she'd be on his side since she thinks we have a weird love-hate thing going on. I wouldn't say she's completely wrong. When we kissed in the pool earlier, I almost came from the feeling of his hardness against me. I don't know what has been making us lose control like we have, but whatever weird spell we seem to fall under every time we're alone makes all fucks I have, fly out the window. But the goal is to not sleep with Chandler, so spark or not, it doesn’t matter. Penny was right. I need to get some dick.
“Okay, we go to your old house. Maybe I can find some baby pictures of you. ”
“Jokes on you. I was made in a lab, remember?”
We tell Cheyenne and Derrick goodnight. Chandler tells her that we’re going to go to their grandfather’s house. "We're going to stop by Gramp's place," he says.
“Okay.” Cheyenne looks at Derrick, then back at Chandler, seeming hesitant. “Just be prepared.”
Prepared for what? Does his grandpa have a pet bobcat? Bodies in the basement? I must look wary because she says, "It's like a borderline hoarder.”
Great. I am by no means a tidy person, but hoarder houses are depressing. We walk out of the bar and get into the car to drive to his grandfather's house. We drive down the dirt road and he takes a left on the main street. We’re quiet as we drive, which is nice.
There aren’t many people out walking the streets. I look out of the window as we drive, taking in the houses with their porch lights on, the glow from them giving off a romantic aura. It feels peaceful. I wonder if Chandler’s childhood home has the same ambience. From what is sister said, I doubt it. Chandler takes a left onto another dirt road without any street lamps. He turns on the brights which illuminate the road better, but I don’t see much up ahead. There’s a green open gate to our right and he drives through it slowly. The headlight shine onto the dark porch and I lean forward and look up to get a glimpse of the outside of the house. It’s an older style Farmhouse with a large porch and a pale blue door with peeling paint. I’’m anxious to see what the inside looks like.
“This is it,” Chandler says, shutting off the car.
“I knew you grew up on a farm.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugs. “Now you get to see it for yourself. Let’s take a look inside.”
We get out of the car and walk up the porch steps, to the front door. Chandler takes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the front door. Before he can open it, I place my hand on his arm, ignoring the tingle that spreads throughout my body at the contact.
“You’re sister said to be prepared,” I remind him.
“My sister can be dramatic," Chandler says. “I’m sure it’s fine. It can’t be that bad.”