14: Who Has Not Seen The Nightfall

"I can't believe that happened." Millie was stunned as she studied me closely, eyes perceptive but unsure of what they were seeing. Uncomfortable beneath her impending gaze, I shifted my weight to the other leg and forced a casual shrug.

"Me either. I guess Sam is trying to be more civil now that we have to spend time together." Once more, I was faced with the sad reality that I was not a good liar. So I just hoped that I sounded dismissive enough for Millie to let the conversation go.

Approximately twenty minutes prior, we were in the middle of Biology class. The teacher left the room to print off some papers, which resulted in a brief influx of pure anarchy. Because a room full of emotionally underdeveloped teenagers without any supervision was pretty much asking for it.

Millie and I were in the middle of a conversation about her sister, when I took vague notice of Dennis flirting with some girl by taking a paper from her and waving it over her head. In the other hand was some red drink, which is important information. It was like we were in middle school all over again, and I rolled my eyes dully at the ridiculousness of it.

It was during this time that the girl started to chase Dennis around. He got close to my lab table right as Sam went over to try to stop him before he got into too much trouble. The collision of them both resulted in the red drink spilling all over me. My luck was truly infallible.

Of course, that wasn't the most shocking part.

The teacher walked in pretty much at the same moment, instantly demanding to know what was going on. Dennis explained that it was all Sam's fault for colliding with him, leaving out the part about how he was running around the classroom like a moron. The teacher demanded that we all apologized to each other, and told Sam to assist me in finding a new shirt. I told her it was fine, but she insisted.

That was when Sam offered me his sweatshirt as a solution. As in the infamous red rose embroidered one that he was almost always wearing. He made it seem reluctant and annoyed, but I wasn't stupid. He wanted me to wear it.

It smelt like him — subtle lavender mixed with cologne. It was soft, warm, and cozy. I hated it for everything that it was, because Sam was supposed to be the absolute worst person I knew. I was supposed to hate his mere existence, and the idea of wearing his shirt should have made me sick to my stomach.

But I liked it.

I hated that the most.

After having stared at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, Millie finally shrugged. "Yeah, I'm sure that's all it is."

We didn't bring it up for the rest of the day, dancing around the subject like trained professionals. I didn't know what Millie knew, or thought she knew, but I was going to pretend that it didn't exist. Hopefully that possibility would die with time.

From there on, school continued until it was done for the day. Sam drove me to his house while shamelessly singing the lyrics to songs he chose according to my response. If I shrugged then it meant that I didn't know it. If I nodded then it meant that I did.

When we reached his absurd mansion and went inside, Sam didn't stop at the living room like he always did. For the first time ever he ushered me towards the stairs instead.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

He just smiled at me, grabbed my hand, and began dragging me behind him. I followed, but my gaze was trained on the way our fingers fit together. As if we were two long lost puzzle pieces connected for the first time. His palm wasn't sweaty or clammy. It was just his warm skin enveloping my own. Ignoring the sudden flush in my cheeks, I turned my attention back to where we were headed. He walked me to the very end of the hallway before he stopped.

"This is my room." He said as he opened the door and we stepped inside.

Sam was clearly nervous to show me what was occupying it, and I understood why. His room was very decorated. It was like looking at Sam from all angles. However, it wasn't necessarily the Sam I thought I always knew.

There were fantasy posters of all kinds placed along the walls, a big cork board full of photos and various papers from who knew what, and large words painted above his bed in black.

Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.

As many questions as I had about that, I was still too busy studying everything to ask.

His desk was mostly clean with only a few homework assignments out of place in the middle of it. That, accompanied with his made-but-still-slightly-messy bed, confirmed it for me. Sam cleaned his room but then went back through it to make it look more casual. Just like how he did his hair.

Finally, he had three doors branching off. One was a double sliding door that must have been a massive walk-in closet, while the other I guessed to be a bathroom. Both were shut tightly, and I tried to ignore the irony of the former.

"So..." Sam mumbled from beside me, watching me closely as he nervously bit his lip. A habit like that was going to get him in trouble one day, because sometimes it looked a little too suggestive.

"What does that mean?" I walked to the wall with the phrase painted on it, tilting my head as I reread it a few more times.

"It's a quote from J.R.R Tolkien." Sam answered, standing beside me.

"Who's that?" I felt a bit stupid.

"The one who wrote The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings." He explained, and I nodded in realization. "I told you I was an absolute nerd."

"I've always known that you were a nerd, I just didn't know that it applied to your movie and literature taste."

"You knew I was a nerd?" He was dumbfounded.

Not wanting to look at him for fear of Sam noticing my embarrassment, I laughed and kept my gaze fixated on the wall. "We've shared a lot of classes over the years."

I could tell that Sam was smiling like a child. "I'm so happy to know that you paid attention to me too."

"Yeah, yeah." I cleared my throat. "Anyway, why that quote?"

As though remembering where the conversation started, Sam lit up. "I've just always loved that conversation between Gimli and Elrond. I think that it's indicative of how I need to keep myself in check sometimes."

"It must not be working with the shit you're in."

"Ridicule me for that all you want, but I'm in the shit now and there's nothing I can do about that." He said. "If I'm faithless now then it could cost you or one of my friends their life. I will not say farewell to this road until I know everyone is safe."

Finally I looked at him and saw the certainty in his eyes. He meant every word he said, and it scared me. Sam did everything in his power to save those he loved, but what about himself? He always struck me as the self-centered type, but I was learning that I couldn't have been more wrong. All Sam cared about was doing whatever he needed to get us through to the other side. That was selfless, and it left me with a deep sinking feeling in my gut.

"But I'm not entirely stupid, either." Sam suddenly added, walking to his bedside table and lifting a picture frame. Once I was close enough to read the words trapped inside, I sighed.

Maybe, but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.

"And yet you've already vowed." I frowned.

"When you almost died, I think I understood this quote a little better." His words were heavy and his thumb ran over the glass surface.

The conversation was making me nauseous, so I sat on Sam's gray comforter. "Why do you like that stuff so much, anyway?"

His eyes were as bright as the sun as he put the frame down and sat beside me. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "I was super close with my grandpa growing up, and he was obsessed with sci-fi specifically, but he liked fantasy too. Sci-fi is cool, but I've always been more drawn to orcs and elves and trolls."

"That's nice." I smiled.

"Yeah, he bought me the leather bound version of The Lord of The Rings." Sam pointed to a series of books on a shelf next to his desk. "He passed away a few years ago, which absolutely sucked. But I know that every time I pick up those books, he's right there beside me again."

"You are such a cliché." I bumped my shoulder into his, and he looked at me softly.

"Yeah, I know."

Sam reached over to me and lightly brushed some of my hair back from my forehead. It was moments like those where the intimacy didn't feel all that wrong. His touch was gentle and practiced, and I wondered how many girls he did that same move to. Sam was a seasoned professional, after all.

That didn't bother me much, though. Sam was free to be with whoever he wanted to. We only started our trial period a little less than two weeks ago, and whatever he wanted to do before that was up to him. But he was getting more and more comfortable when touching me. I was getting more and more used to the affection.

Sat in his sacred space with his hand in my hair should have been weirder than it was, but it sort of just felt normal. Suddenly Sam took his hand away and began taking off his shoes. He offered a sly smile as he did it. "Take your shoes off so you don't get my bed dirty."

I quirked a brow, having no idea what he meant by that. Reluctantly, I did as I was told.

"I just want to hold you." Sam quietly said once I was done. Then he laid back on his bed. I did the same.

His arms wrapped around my waist, and I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. My heart was in my throat, and I was sure that I physically couldn't blush more than I already was, especially with his added warmth.

Everything was just so effortless for him. It was easy for Sam to hold me or lay on me — nothing ever seemed to frighten him. Every time he got too close to me, it felt like another challenge I had to overcome. Every breath against my skin, every stray strand of his hair. It was new to me. I had no practice at all.

"Sawyer?" He mumbled, and I shivered.

"Yeah?"

"The last football game of the season is Friday. Do you think you'd come?"

It was hard not to laugh, because it was definitely not the question I expected. "I never go to the games."

"I know." Sam replied. "But it'd be nice to see you in the bleachers for once."

"Only if I can go with Millie. I'd rather die than go alone, and she loves those things."

His arms pulled away from me as he sat up. Then he twisted his body so that he could lean over me and look at my face. He was close enough to kiss. "Then it's settled, right?"

"I suppose so."

"And you'll wear my sweatshirt, won't you?" He was grinning like an idiot, and it was intoxicating.

Who was Samson Warner, anyway?

That was a question I asked myself ever since all of this started. He wasn't just a levelheaded nightmare with too much money and time on his hands anymore. He was a nerd and a geek. He was the boy who loved his grandfather with all of his heart. He was the boy too brave to back down from the possibility of death. He was the boy hovering mere inches from my lips, and yet a million miles away.

Was it possible for Sam to ever be mine? Sam was an idiot, which even he knew. Was I sure that I wanted someone like that? Surely he would be his own downfall. Perhaps mine too.

"That's a bad idea, and you know it." I reminded him.

"No it's not, actually." I could see the wheels spinning behind his hazel eyes.

"It most definitely is."

"No." He shook his head. "We hate each other, remember?"

He lost me. "Where is this going?"

"Just tell everyone you're refusing to give my sweatshirt back because you're trying to piss me off. That's why you're wearing it to such an important event, because you want to throw me off my game." Admittedly, it was a bit clever.

Without even realizing it, I lifted my hand and rested it on the curve of his neck. "Are you sure that's at all convincing?"

"It's definitely more convincing than telling everyone that you're wearing it because I've liked you since freshman year." He deadpanned.

"You have a point."

Sam then laid back down. That time his head rested on my chest, similarly to last time. He said that he wanted to hold me, but I was pretty sure that he really just wanted me to hold him. He was like a dog wanting to lay in its owner's lap so that it could be pet. So I did just that, combing his curls with my fingers.

He was so relaxed that his words were quiet as he mumbled, "I'm the happiest man alive."

It was impossible to not turn red at words like those, but I said nothing. He was too unashamed for his own good. We weren't all that alike when it came down to it. Sam had unmatched confidence, and he felt joy too strongly. I was anything but confident, and I was too pessimistic to be a very happy person.

But for what it was worth, I felt like all of that was fine right then. Because Sam was half-asleep in my arms and I was entirely enveloped in his scent. So I didn't mind that we were so different, and that I wasn't supposed to care about him because he was my enemy. That moment was much more pleasant when those thoughts fell away.

Maybe I was starting to want us to last. Maybe that was why we wouldn't. Maybe I was thinking too damn much.

Whatever it was, I tried to be like Sam in that moment and focus on nothing but the comfort of our proximity.

It was difficult to do when I knew that an invisible clock hovered over our heads.

Tick, tick, tick...

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