11: To Focus On Something Else

"What else did you want to tell me?" I asked the instant that I opened the car door, not even waiting until I sat down. The question was burning a hole inside of my brain, and I couldn't bear it for a second longer.

"My day was fine, thanks for asking." Sam amused himself.

I just ignored him. "You said you'd tell me the rest later. It's later now."

"It's not a whole lot. Just that we go to Jack of Clubs for our meetings." He shrugged, starting the car and taking us out of the school's parking lot.

"Why Jack of Clubs? That doesn't seem all that secretive."

"That's where they found me the first time, so it's just sort of become normal. It's kind of in the perfect location, and no one really goes there anymore."

"What about Ezra and the cook?" I pointed out.

He shrugged. "Ezra doesn't even leave the back room unless there are customers, which there aren't a lot of, and I've never even seen the cook before. They don't seem to notice anything."

"Nothing about this sounds smart."

"It's better than being somewhere far from any semblance of safety and civilization."

I couldn't help but concede. "You make a fair point."

"You're just now noticing?" He laughed, and then leaned forward to turn the radio on. It instantly connected to his phone. "Point my phone at my face to unlock it."

Maybe it was just me, but my phone was my sacred place. It was where all of my favorite photos, videos, games, conversations, etc. were safely held. The idea of just giving my phone to someone that I hated for years freaked me out a bit. But Sam didn't seem to care. It was possible that he didn't value his phone as much as I did, or maybe he just had more faith in me than I had in myself.

Reluctantly, I did as he said.

"Press my Spotify. Play any playlist you want, or even something that I don't have. I'm curious what sort of music you like." Sam cast a glance my way. I stared down at his phone.

His Home Screen was a picture of him and his friends. Dennis had one arm around Sam's shoulders, and the other around a stoic Brian. Caden was gripping Brian's sleeve and laughing about something probably lost to time. He had a few widgets as well, but it was just practical things like the weather and date.

I found his Spotify and opened it up. Scrolling through someone's music also felt deeply personal. Music taste said a lot about a person — not always things that were easy to learn. What I quickly found out about Sam was that he liked everything. Pop music, rock, bedroom dance. Some I recognized, while others were songs and artists I had never seen before.

Finally landing on a playlist that seemed the most familiar, I pressed shuffle. Come A Little Closer by Cage The Elephant started playing, and Sam smiled. He didn't even hesitate, singing the lyrics to himself. He was by no means a singer, which made it even more fascinating.

His confidence knew no bounds. I couldn't help but watch him intently. It would be a lie if I said that it didn't make me like him a bit more. There was something so endearing about the way that he didn't care what I said, or if I judged him. He just sang because he wanted to, and I was glad to be there at that moment.

Rewiring my brain to search for good aspects in Sam rather than bad ones was a peculiar experience. Sometimes it worked, but changes like that took time.

When he realized that I was staring at him, his eyes flitted to mine. His cheeks heated slightly, and he sang a little bit quieter. I forced my eyes away from his face, instead trying to pretend as though I wasn't enamored by the new viewpoint distorting my previously known world.

Who was Samson Warner, anyway?

A few more songs went by before he pulled into his driveway and we both went inside. In the living room, Sam tilted his head at me as I sat down on his couch.

"Do you know how to fight?" He asked me, and the question threw me off.

"What?"

His expression was uneasy. "I keep thinking about what's going to happen later, and I'm super worried. We have no idea what the better option is. If you're not standing beside me, then you might get kidnapped or jumped or something. If you are standing beside me, then the same is still possible. So do you know how to fight?"

"No." The answer was obvious. I didn't know why he even bothered to ask.

Sam bit his lip as he thought for a moment. "Stand up."

"I'd rather not, I'm very comfortable right here."

"Sawyer, please stand up." He clasped his hands together and pleaded with a petty pout. He knew that he looked annoyingly cute when he did that, and it pissed me off. How did a few kisses change everything so much?

"Nope." To be honest, I just wanted to antagonize him.

"Alright, fine." Sam sighed, sitting down beside me. Then without further warning, he reached towards me and put a hand on my bicep.

Startled, I jumped back from him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm trying to gauge how strong you are. It's hard to tell since you live in oversized sweatshirts." He said it as though it was obvious.

"You live in that sweatshirt too." As always, he had the same red rose embroidered sweatshirt on.

"I didn't say that it was a bad thing." Sam shook his head at my defensiveness. "I think it's really cute, if I'm honest."

That instantly made my cheeks turn red. I avoided his gaze. "Please don't ever call me cute again."

"You're not making it easy on me when you make a face like that."

I had to turn my head even further away, because it was definitely getting more red by the second. "Anyway, you were trying to gauge how strong I am?"

"You're not a skeleton, but you're definitely not as built as I was hoping you would be."

"Jee, thanks."

"Wait, that didn't sound how I wanted it to." He quickly backtracked. "I don't care what your build is, I'd still find you hot regardless. The problem is that it's going to be more difficult to keep you safe if you're not all that strong to begin with."

Hearing Sam call me hot so blatantly was never going to sound normal. Maybe he was blind. "So what's your plan?"

"You need to know some basic things about fighting. At least then there will be a little bit of assurance if something happens."

"Why do you even know how to fight?"

"I used to do boxing in grade school, since my dad did it when he was a kid. The older I got the more I cared about football instead, so I quit. Who knew it was going to come in handy now." Sam told me, standing up once more and grabbing both of my hands in his.

Deciding to actually do what he wanted, I let him pull me to my feet. "I'm not going to be able to fight after spending only one day with you."

"You are so pessimistic, I don't know why I find that so attractive." With those words, he situated me so that I was in front of him, facing the wall. "I know it won't help a ton, but it's better than nothing. We'll have plenty of time to practice in the future, we just have to make it through tonight."

"Emphasis on making it through tonight."

"Here." Sam grabbed my left elbow. "Normally I wouldn't encourage someone to go all in with their dominant arm, but we don't have enough time to focus on something else."

"You knew that I was left handed?" I turned my head to look at him.

A satisfied smile tugged at his lips. "I'm more perceptive than you might think."

Then he lifted my arm up enough to grab my wrist with one hand while the other remained on my elbow. He was incredibly close to me, his face near enough to mine that I had to be careful as to not close the distance. I tried to ignore the anxiety welling up inside of me. How did some people love bouncing from relationship to relationship? The idea of adjusting entirely to whatever was going on between Sam and I was daunting enough. I couldn't imagine doing that all of the time.

"When you punch someone, you don't want to rely on your fist. Your hand is only so strong, and it's a good way to do little damage to anyone other than yourself. If you focus all of your energy into your elbow, on the other hand, you're transferring a lot more energy and strength from more muscles. More than you probably think you have."

With his hands, he guided my arm outward, mimicking the motions of a punch.

"You kind of want your arm to rotate into a straight position like this." He showed me what he meant. "It adds a little extra power and support too."

"Got it." I repeated the motion, and he nodded.

"Another thing to keep in mind is your breathing. Do you do much physical activity?"

"Unless walking from my bed to the fridge counts, then absolutely not."

He laughed. "I figured as much. Then you need to learn some breathing regulation, because if you can't catch your breath, then your form won't even matter."

"It doesn't take a whole lot for me to lose my breath." I admitted.

"I know." His eyes met mine, and I could sense the underlying meaning behind his words. Our faces seemed to be even closer than they were before, and I could already feel my heart beginning to race.

"We have a limited amount of time, flirting is not our priority right now."

"Right." He tried to refocus his thoughts. "Do you have asthma?"

"Yeah. Not anything severe, but it's a big reason as to why my dad stopped making me play sports as a kid." What an awful time to have breathing problems. It had been years since I needed to use my inhaler, because I didn't do much running or anything similar nowadays. But I was starting to wish that maybe I had it on me just in case. Especially after being choked the last thing we dealt with those guys, because not having my inhaler right then only made things worse.

Sam frowned. "I thought so after what happened. You need to be extra careful with how you breathe then. Don't let yourself panic too much, just focus on completing each punch. Don't think about what else is going on. Just think about your next breath."

"Easy enough to say." Dread wasn't a good enough word for what I felt.

"I know, but it's better than just not saying anything at all." Again, he completed a demonstration of a perfectly formed punch. "Every time that you begin to straighten your elbow, you want to release your breath. Whenever you're recoiling and assessing the situation, it's time to focus on inhaling. But don't do too much of either, just keep it calm and if you really have to, count each action in your head."

That was when he punched the air, breathing just loud enough for me to listen to the sound. Once he was finished with that, he looked at me expectantly. It was a little bit embarrassing to have him study me so intently, but I tried to focus on my safety as I mimicked what he did.

"Your breathing is still too sharp, it might feel fine right now but if you do that for too long you'll just wear yourself out. Here." Sam went behind me, pressing his chest to my back and his arms around my waist.

Instantly my face was aflame. His touch was gentle and tentative, and I could feel each breath he took as his diaphragm expanded then contracted. "What are you doing now?"

"You can feel my breathing, right?" His mouth was close to my ear, and I could feel each exhale subtly ruffle my hair. I was going to throw up at the sudden proximity.

"Yeah." He was too close to me, his warmth too certain. Sam was more comfortable with touch than I had ever been in my life. I wanted to be able to relax into his embrace, but I was too busy trying to not overheat.

"Match your breath to mine." He quietly commanded, and I did my best to do just that. But it was really difficult when my heart was going a thousand beats a minute. "Close your eyes, and just relax."

Hoping that his advice would help, my eyelids shut and I tried to match the tempo of his lungs. It wasn't easy at first, because no one ever wrapped their arms around me like that before. However, I focused on the way Sam shifted so slightly each time that he took a breath, and I used that as my lifeline. I felt my heart start to calm a bit.

"Now punch." He whispered, and the feeling left my neck bristling. Despite that, I was still able to do the motion once more without losing the beat of his breath.

Finally, Sam released me and I was able to function again. Even though I felt like I was going to drown in the heat of his body, I was somehow cold as space was put between us.

"Just like that. Try to remember that feeling if you actually need to implement any of this." Sam smiled at me, and I could see the hopefulness filling his eyes. I couldn't do anything but try to trust him. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe everything was going to work out.

Then he spread his arms out and said, "Now try out what you learned on me."

Instantly, my eyes went wide with shock and I stepped away from him. "Are you crazy?"

He laughed, dropping his arms back to his side. "I'm just fucking with you. You can't tell me that you've never thought about punching me, though."

"Oh, I definitely have." I deadpanned. "But now it feels unethical. Like domestic violence."

"So we're already domestic?" Sam grabbed the front of my shirt and carefully pulled me towards him. Then he put his arms over my shoulders, our noses nearly touching from the proximity. And just like that, I was a nervous mess trying not to show it.

"You are the worst."

Just before closing the distance between us, he mumbled, "I'm the best at this."

My first kiss was anti-climatic and gave me a very minimal reaction. But for some reason Sam's kisses were nothing like that. He knew how to make the whole universe fall away. My doubts, my anxieties, my fears. All of it was gone for a few blissful moments.

That time it was a bit longer than just a minute or two. He took me to the couch, where he laid me down and kissed me some more. When we needed to catch our breath, he just laid his head down on my chest and we stayed like that for however long the world would let us.

For the first time, I wasn't scared of him.

When I looked at his face and the bruises that marred it, I saw the boy who was going to change my future just as he had changed my past. I didn't know what was going to come next, and neither did he, but I knew that didn't mean that we could at least try to have some level of control over our present.

And no matter how I tried to pretend that I still hated Sam, laying there with him against my chest was hard to loathe.

I didn't even want to let go.

•O•O•