Samara isn't exactly sure why she does it. Why she stays with Allen when she doesn't really love him. It doesn't lead to anything good. She still goes to parties, still drinks with her friends, and sees other men. And yet Allen and her fit together like gears in a clock. He feels it. He's hopelessly in love with the brunette, in fact. Samara just... Doesn't feel it.

"Samara." A voice roused her from sleep. Samara stirred, turning over and looking around in the dim bedroom she had slept in. She was laying in a bed, one of her friends, Justin, laying with his arms wrapped around her. Her minds vaguely remembered how they ended up together last night. Lots of shots and a heated make-out session that resulted in their friends shoving them into the other room, laughing that they were ruining the mood of the party.

The person addressing her, her best friend, Lauren, stood at the bedside, her blonde hair messy and matted; classic bedhead, likely from crashing in some random spot in the living room as the party slowed down. Samara sat up, lazily making sure she kept the blanket clutched over her chest. "What?" She asked in a snappy tone, obviously not happy that she had been woken up so early in the day.

"Your boyfriend pulled up a few minutes ago. I tried to tell him you weren't here, but he wasn't fallin' for it." Lauren explained, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes still half-closed with sleep.

Samara huffed, waving her friend away with a thanks and quickly dressed herself before Justin could even wake up. She fixed her hair in the mirror and cleaned away some of her more smudged makeup, before leaving the house and hopping into the passenger seat of Allen's truck.

"You said you'd be home at 12." He growled, taking off down the road.

"Shit happens, Allen, I was drunk. Did you want me to walk myself home?" The teen spat, crossing her arms and glaring out of the window. This reception was routine for the pair.

"You know damn well I'd be willing to come and get you." He muttered, keeping his dark red eyes trained on the road, invisible to Samara due to his black shades.

For the rest of the car ride, neither person spoke, the country not wanting to break his concentration on the road due to his angry emotions. When they got to his house, Samara jumped out of the car before it even stopped moving, in an attempt to get to her room and lock the door before Allen could get to her, but by the time she reached her room, she felt his hand clasp around her wrist, pulling her and pinning her against a wall.

"What happened at the party?" He stated. His voice had an angry undertone, nut he was smiling nonetheless, asking he in a casual voice. Most people would have just heard his words as playful bantering.

Samara glared back at him, her dark brown eyes glinting an irritated, yet nervous light. "I just hung out with my friends, Al." She hissed, trying to wriggle out of his grip. In response, it tightened like a boa constrictor.

"You're lying." He almost sang, although his sarcastic smile he had sported at first dropped.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Allen-"

"STOP LYING TO ME!" He snapped, punching the wall directly next to her, the drywall collapsing under the blow and causing his forearm to enter the wall. Samara screamed, covering her face as Allen's other hand grasped her neck, pulling her closer. "What happened?"

"I slept with Justin!" She sobbed, her voice shaking through her hands. "I slept with him. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She shouted. Within seconds, Allen shoved her to the ground.

"Get the fuck outta my house, whore." He sneered, his fists still clenched as he stormed off into his room, the walls shaking violently when he slammed his door shut.

Samara's face was completely straight as she exited her room, her bags over her shoulders as she made firm strides down the hallway and towards the front door. It had been 4 hours since her and Allen's fight. She had spent that time crying, cursing the mahogany-haired boy to her friends over text, and finally, packing her bags to leave. She had a few options for places to stay: Annie might let her stay at Francois's place, but the Samara wasn't really comfortable around the Frenchman. She considered asking her best friend, Viktor, for a place to stay, but she didn't feel like dealing with a jealous Faith. Finally, she settled with Mare's house, finding the Australian too nice to refuse the American a place to stay.

She reached for the doorknob, about to exit the house, when she felt a rough hand grab her's. She turned to see Allen, his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes dark as if he had just woken up. Her lips curled ever-so-slightly, spiteful in knowing he had been able to sleep off their fight.

"Where're you goin' now, Samara?"

"I'm leaving. You told me to get out." She grumbled, attempting to pull away her hand, but the country pulled her closer.

"I didn't mean it, doll. Come here." He stated, wrapping his arms around her and placing a kiss on her lips. Although she resisted slightly, she found herself melting into his touching, kissing him back.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, holding Allen's face in her hands as before their lips seized each other's again.

"I'm sorry too. I love you, baby." Allen muttered in response. He was so into the action of unclipping her bra that he hadn't realized she never returned those three words.

~~ Meanwhile, at Alfred's place ~~

"I don't understand how Germany isn't beating the crap outta Mexico. Juan's team isn't even that good anymore." Alfred griped as he took another bite of his pizza. He and Shelby were sprawled out on the couch, quickly chowing through a Little Caesar's pizza. They were watching one of the Olympic men's soccer game, which happened to be Mexico versus Germany.

Shelby snorted, almost chocking on her pizza. "Says the country who's men's team couldn't even qualify for the Olympic's?"

"THE SYSTEM WAS RIGGED!"