28: Despite The Threat of Pending Violence

"What would you like to drink?" The waitress asked with a smooth voice, her eyes flitting between the two of us only briefly before they landed comfortably on Sam. Too comfortably, and I felt a sudden twang of annoyance build up in my chest.

"Water." I replied blandly, reaching across the table to put my hand over his. Maybe I was feeling a little bold after the acceptance we experienced earlier, because I was more distracted by my jealousy than anxiety.

"I'll get a lemonade." Sam said, trying to keep his amused expression at bay.

The waitress jotted down what we said, and when she looked back up she only then seemed to notice our connected hands. Her eyes went wide, as if she couldn't fathom the idea that two guys could be on a date. She probably assumed that a guy who looked like Sam simply had to be straight. I used to think that too about the both of us. Now I knew all too well that sexuality had nothing to do with the way a person presented themselves.

"I'll be back with your drinks shortly." She rushed out as she turned to leave.

"You're more jealous than I am." Sam pointed out to me, pure amusement on his face.

I opened my mouth to protest, but I was cut short when I realized that he was right. Sam almost never got jealous. He was pissed off when Chloe kissed my cheek, but it didn't exactly seem like he was jealous. Except for maybe when he kissed me after, as if to affirm his place as my only romantic contender.

"More people flirt with you." I shrugged, a little bit embarrassed to be admitting how much I wanted Sam all to myself. He was my boyfriend, and we were exclusive. He was also the most loyal person I had ever met, so I was never worried for a moment that he would cheat on me. However, it still made me annoyed to see someone looking at him the same way I did. Like whenever Jocelyn threw herself at him. That made me want to strangle someone. Preferably her.

"To my face." Sam countered. "But I'm pretty sure you have a big fan base of your own."

"What?" I frowned.

"Chloe, for example, thinks that you're really hot." He told me. "She's not the only one. No one ever makes a move on you because you seem unapproachable. Also I think most girls are put off by how close you are to Millie."

"Put off?"

"They can't tell if you're dating or going to date. It makes them nervous." He shrugged.

I raised an eyebrow. "How do you know all of that?"

Sam offered me his easy grin. "I have infinite sources. I know everyone, and thus hear everything."

"When exactly do you plan on beating the stalker allegations?" I rolled my eyes.

"Depends on when you'll let me."

Eventually we ordered food and were served. This time the waitress didn't even make eye contact with us, which was fine by me. My incredibly unhealthy plate which consisted of a greasy burger and a surplus of fries made me just the right amount of happy. If Sam was willing to always pay for my food, then I was going to be a very content man. Maybe even more so if he typically made it himself, but I wouldn't tell him that.

Once I was so full that I thought I might explode, I looked over at Sam. He was picking at his plate of pasta as if he was trying to find it in him to finish the last bit. Watching him was making me sick. "You really don't have to keep going."

"But it's yummy." He protested.

"You look like you're going to puke."

"Speaking of puking." Sam suddenly grinned, looking over at me. "Can you guess what we're doing next?"

"Going home?"

"Do you really think I'd call it quits when the night is still so young?" He pretended to be offended, but it only lasted a moment before he leaned forward in the booth and offered me a warm expression.

"I think you wouldn't know when you should call it quits even if it hit you across the face."

"Come on, sugar. Just one guess."

I decided to play along since it made him happy, and this stupid boy seemed to be rubbing off on me a little. Realizing that I possessed even a fraction of his sappiness was a horrifying thing, but maybe I needed to practice my compassion from time to time. I could do that for him.

So I thought about what he could possibly have planned, and with that came the memory of what he said when we first pulled into the parking lot. They also have bowling, a restaurant, and a swimming pool. Using the process of elimination, that meant that there was only one option left.

"You can't possibly be hoping to swim right now." I groaned.

"I absolutely am."

I blinked. "Are you insane?"

"Depends on who you ask." He shrugged. "I brought a bathing suit for you."

"Well if you ask me, you've absolutely lost it."

That was how I ended up in a bathroom stall as I tried my best to calm the sudden onslaught of nerves berating me. It was easy for most people — all I was doing was changing into a bathing suit. It was a normal piece of clothing. But I wasn't sure how I felt about being that vulnerable in front of Sam. I felt exposed, and it was conflicting.

I wanted to be closer with Sam. To be more comfortable around him. As time progressed, I knew that I definitely did want all of those things. But why did it feel so embarrassing just taking off my shirt in front of him? Why was my brain wired like that?

"You coming?" He knocked on the outside of the stall. I didn't realize how long I was taking. "It does fit, right?"

"Yeah it fits." I admitted. I didn't have to ask to know that he probably found these swim trucks in the back crevices of his closet from a few years before. It wasn't like I was a million inches shorter than him or anything, but Sam was a football player. I, on the other hand, was a firm believer in sleeping.

"Then what's the matter?" His voice was more gentle now, like he was worried about me. No, he was worried about me. That was what boyfriends did for each other, they made sure that the other was alright.

I wasn't sure what to say. What was the matter? This whole thing was utterly ridiculous. Sam and I were in a relationship, and I was happy because of it. He made me feel things I had never felt before, and maybe that wasn't something that I needed to be so damn afraid of.

Because at the end of the day I had grown to trust Sam, and I loved him.

"Sawyer?" He knocked again.

My mouth was dry. My face was warm.

"I'm about to break this door down."

"I'm fine." My voice sounded more strained than I meant it to, and I quickly covered my mouth as if it would silence my thoughts.

My brain so casually slipped in that thought about Sam that it was startling to realize how true it really was. I did love Sam. Just like everything that came along with our relationship, this was an entirely new feeling for me. I loved my parents, I loved Millie and Keira. I loved greasy food. I loved sleeping.

None of that was even remotely the same, though.

Loving another person in the way I loved him meant that my heart was fully committed. Was that how love always worked? Loving someone before your brain could even catch up? Clearly that meant that what we had was more serious than I ever expected it to be. When along the line did that change?

Finally I released a nervous breath and opened the stall door. He stood on the other side with his head tilted like a lost puppy. I couldn't help thinking that it was a good thing that I fell in love with Sam of all people.

"Ready to swim?" I forced a smile on my face to try to mask the blush on my cheeks. I was trying to pretend like I wasn't nervous to be seen by him. It probably wasn't working, though. Sam knew me too well.

"Sure."

But before I could get past him he grabbed my hand to stop me. I reluctantly turned to him, hoping that he wasn't going to point out the fact that I couldn't stop blushing. Or maybe comment about the way my body looked.

Instead he leaned down and kissed me briefly. The action felt like a reassurance, like he could read my mind and he wanted to touch me just to make sure that I remembered how much we really meant to each other. When he was finished, he whispered, "You're literally perfect, Sawyer."

"No, I'm not." I told him. My face could not get any redder.

"Yes you are." He held his hand out for me to take. "You're perfectly you."

I took it, but I couldn't muster a response. Thankfully he didn't make me since he guided me out of the bathroom and into the pool area. Normally I would have told him that no one was perfect, but phrasing it that way was unexpected. You're perfectly you. I guess I couldn't really refute that since I was the only one who was me. He was such a fucking sap, and the worst part was how good he was at being one too.

Shockingly there was no one in the pool. It was almost winter, so I could understand that most were not exactly craving swimming right now. But it was stuffy and hot inside of the room just like all pool areas, and the emptiness caused the still silence to mix with the calm atmosphere. I was not going to complain about having the place to ourselves.

"Come on!" Sam dragged me around to the deep end like a guide dog. "Let's jump in!"

"What if it's cold?" I protested but still allowed him to pull me along.

"You won't notice it if it's quick." He assured me. "Ready?"

"Not really."

"Three, two —"

We both ran to the edge and made the plunge before he even said the word one. The water was colder than I wanted it to be, but warmer than expected. I quickly made my way back to the surface, where Sam was laughing.

"You didn't wait until one!" I scolded.

"Neither did you!" He retorted.

We spent longer than I expected in the water, splashing, holding, kissing. Sometimes just staring, and I wondered when my life became such a cliché movie. Was it the day I met Sam? It was entirely possible that his unreal life rubbed off on mine from the very beginning.

As I sat on the stairs leading into the pool, I watched Sam swim around for a little while. Eventually he seemed to grow bored of that, heading toward me until he was right at the base of the steps. He sat down on the concrete floor, submerged in the water all the way up to his chin.

"Did you have fun today?" He asked quietly, as if nervous to hear my answer.

I smiled genuinely. "I really did."

His expression softened. "I'm glad."

"Thank you, Sam." I told him.

"For what?"

"Everything." I just shrugged. I could easily bring up the things that followed Sam, the things that made our relationship incredibly difficult. But I wasn't going to, because despite the threat of pending violence and potential death, I was still in love with this stupid boy. And being the dramatic teenager that I was, I couldn't fathom choosing a different path than the one Sam made.

"It's getting late." Sam sighed. "We should probably go home."

A thought popped into my mind, and I couldn't help but blurt it out before I could fully process what it meant. "I don't have to go home."

He looked up at me curiously. I sort of liked it when he was the one who had to look up at me instead of the other way around. "Where do you want to go?"

"I mean." I cleared my throat. "I could go to your place."

He stared at me. "For the night?"

I nodded. Sam was the one always making those suggestive comments, and now he was gazing at me as if he was some sort of pure saint.

"Why?"

"I want to spend the night with you. I can call my mom and say I'm staying at Millie's." I was hoping he understood what I meant, but I couldn't fully tell. He just seemed content, eyes glued to me and lips gently turned upwards.

"That'd be nice. My parents are away on some business trip right now." He said, making me unsure of the connotation behind that information.

Trying to mask the buzzing nerves inside of me, I planted my hand on Sam's cheek and closed the distance between us. His lips tasted like chlorine, just as mine probably did. I was trying to make him understand how much I cared about him. How much I trusted him.

We dried off for a little while, then changed back into our clothes. I called my mom as we walked through the parking lot back to Sam's car. She said that it was fine. If only she knew what I was really up to.

The car ride back to Sam's house was pleasant. Music was vaguely playing on the speakers, but it was barely noticeable over our exchange of stories. Sam told me more about his childhood, about how his grandfather loved to take him swimming.

"He liked to say that swimming was the only time a person could feel weightless, almost like an astronaut probably did." Sam was saying. The sun had set, leaving us in the dark of the cab as I studied him freely. His eyes were focused on the road. "That was why he liked it so much."

"What did he do for a living?"

"He was the previous CEO of my parents' investment firm. But his dream was to work for NASA."

"Why didn't he."

"He was fully deaf in one ear, and hard of hearing in the other." He sighed. "He could have still worked there, but he wanted to go to space. Which just wasn't safe. So he gave up on it entirely and ended up in a job he never really liked."

"That's horrible. Did he speak sign language?"

"Sometimes. He taught me quite a bit so that we could communicate without my parents knowing." Sam laughed. "But I have a feeling that I'm shit at it and he just learned how to decipher my nonsense."

The conversation carried on from there, Sam filling the air with flashes of his past. I took every single one and stored it in a cozy place next to my heart, honored to know even more about him. At some point the focus shifted to me, and it was my turn to offer parts of myself.

I told him about how my parents were physically there, but often felt absent growing up. I talked about Keira, and how she was the only reason I made it through my childhood. She took care of me and Millie as if we were her children, despite her only being four years older than us. She sacrificed parts of herself to keep us safe and happy.

She was the last person to take me swimming. Probably the only person, I wouldn't have been shocked. Keira and Millie were my sisters regardless of blood, and I loved them with my entire being.

Despite the ride back being kind of long, it felt like it passed by in only a few minutes. Out of nowhere Sam was pulling into his empty driveway, and the car was shortly turned off. Now I was nervous again, but I told myself to breathe. I wanted to be closer to Sam. That was my choice to make, and I was making it.

We walked to his front door, which Sam unlocked. Once we were safely on the other side, he locked it again.

Then we just stood there for a moment.

As I was in the process of trying to figure out how to express myself in as little actions and words as possible, Sam beat me to it. He placed a hand on my waist, the other on my neck. His lips were on mine. My back met the wall.

I kissed him back. My fingers tangled in his damp curls, pulling him closer and closer.

He pulled back slightly, breathless. "Is this okay?"

"Yes." I laughed.

I could feel a brief smile on his mouth as he leaned back in. For someone who never cared too much about being intimate with someone in the past, I was more than eager to keep him right where he was. He lightly bit my lip, and the action caused a shockwave to rattle my body. I let out an embarrassing sound in response, too caught up in the moment to care all that much.

His kisses trailed away from my mouth. They claimed my jaw and neck, and my brain was turning into an incoherent sludge with every movement of him against me. Being in love was terrifying, but this didn't feel as frightening as I thought it would. It felt good.

Sam stepped back. "Let's go upstairs."

"Right." I could barely get the word past my lips, my legs a bit wobbly beneath me as I took the hand he held out for me and allowed him to guide me up the stairs.

The house was dark, but he seemed to have no problem navigating it. The only thing helping me see was the street lights pouring in through the windows. I just held tightly onto his hand. Our palms fit so perfectly together that I couldn't help but think about how silly that was. How fucking weird was it that Sam, the boy I hated for three years, was the perfect match for hand holding? The universe was full of dramatic irony.

As soon as we were in his bedroom, he turned to me. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but instead he just grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me back to him. We were kissing again, this time more desperately. My skin felt feverish with his every touch, my heart hammering from a mixture of emotions.

He was so close to me, I could feel his heartbeat beneath my fingertips as I pressed my palm to his chest. I barely noticed when he helped me walk backwards to his bed. Not until I was suddenly laying down, and he was hovering over me. We paused for a moment, trying to catch our breath.

His fucking hazel eyes bore into me as if they could read my every thought and emotion.

"Sawyer." He mumbled as he buried his face in the crook of my neck, the vibration tickling my skin. The way he said my name left me restless.

"Sam." I whispered into his ear to pay him back, and by the way he subtly shuddered, I knew I had the same effect on him. That was a surprisingly satisfying piece of information.

As he returned to nipping and kissing at my neck, I closed my eyes. I wanted to feel this moment in its entirety, to never forget the way it felt to have another person devote themselves to me like this. His hands slipped up my shirt, exploring my stomach. The feeling was startling. It was exhilarating.

He traveled down to my collarbone. His hands traveled up to my midriff.

I lost all sense of time, focusing only on Sam.

Who was Samson Warner, anyway?

I could answer that now, I thought. He was the boy who would risk his life for those he cared about. Samson Warner was fiercely loyal like a well-groomed dog. Samson Warner was my boyfriend who I loved. Samson Warner was a total geek who was absolutely beautiful. He was smarter than me, probably the top of our class. He was rich and reckless. And he was fucking perfect just the way he was.

He pulled my shirt over my head, and I wasn't sure if my face was red from my anxiety or simply the heat of the moment. He began kissing my chest next, like he wasn't going to let a single part of me remain untouched. This was all so new to me, these feelings he brought out in me. I was trying to overcome my fear of new things, and this one was starting to seem more and more plausible.

His hands found the waist of my jeans, and that was when I suddenly panicked. I lightly pressed against his shoulders and propped myself up on the bed with my elbows.

Sam wasted no time letting go, looking at me with nothing but worry in his eyes. "Do you want to stop?"

"Um..." Now my cheeks were definitely red from anxiety. "...no."

He furrowed his brow. "Are you sure? We really don't have to go any further."

"It's not..." Trying to explain myself made me want to set fire to my brain and wither away to nothing. This was so embarrassing, so I tried to look to the side in the hopes that it would make it easier to speak. "It's not that."

"What is it?" He softly asked. He was so incredibly kind.

"I just... I don't want to—"

"We don't have to."

"No!" I groaned, falling back down on the bed and covering my face with my hands. How did some people enjoy sleeping around? Was it not embarrassing for them? "I want to do this."

"Okay..." His voice was confused.

"I don't want to be the one who... you know." My face couldn't get hotter than it was. The silence following my words made me want to roll over and die. Sam was probably upset.

I felt him fall down on the bed beside me, confirming to me that he wasn't thrilled. I nervously moved my hands from my eyes to see what sort of face he was making. He was just looking at me with a soft smile.

He lightly grabbed my hands and lowered them. "Okay."

"What?" I sat up so that I was looking down at him.

"That's okay." He nodded, wrapping his arms around my neck and pulling me towards him. "I don't mind."

"What?" I asked again. I wasn't sure that I was hearing him right.

He chuckled. "I just want to be with you, Sawyer. As long as you're okay with this then I am too."

"You really don't have to if you don't want to—"

He cupped both of my cheeks in his palms and looked me firmly in the eyes. "I promise I'm okay with this."

I needed to kiss him again, so I did. It was messy and passionate, and I knew then that he definitely understood the meaning behind it. Still, I decided that it wasn't enough. I had to say it out loud.

"I love you, Sam." I admitted, my lungs desperately trying to replenish their air supply.

"I love you too, Sawyer."

I had no idea what I was doing when it came to my entire relationship with Sam. But for once I decided to focus my attention on just trying on my own rather than waiting for Sam to always guide us forward. Hovering over him, we kissed and undressed. We took care of each other gently and slowly, every touch like a wildfire. All of those pent up feelings inside of us were set ablaze.

And despite all of that chaos, it was perfectly lovely. Perfectly us. And he was so perfectly him.

•O•O•

When I wrote that last line, I literally asked myself if that was too gay. I think I might have fried my brain.

Every time that you comment that you were robbed, you get blocked. I don't feel comfortable writing smut about minors, and this book literally said it would not have any smut. Go somewhere else.