L.W.T.B.B Copyright © 2012-2016 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved. 

Current Chapter Posted - Saturday, June 11th 2016

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{ Chapter 19 } : A Bad Case Of Deja Vu 

       It was incredible. I'd known Sam for maybe a handful of two-three weeks and already managed to get myself drunk with him twice now.

The start of my hangover was pure and simple; a simmering headache with the promise of a nasty-overall feeling lurking not too far behind. A sensation of nails being clipped into my skull with a hammer tiptoed into my consciousness until I was roused awake from my sleep.

The first thing I noticed was the digital clock - an ugly plain black and manly affair so far off than my trendy baby pink horloge. The second thing I registered was the light breeze sweeping up and down my bare legs. It was coming from the ceiling fan. I didn't have a ceiling fan. Only the guest bedroom had a ceiling fan...The one where Samuel Adams was currently residing in for the next two plus weeks.

Lastly, the third that struck me - and really, it was the first thing I should have noticed - was the crushing weight of another body molded carelessly to my back.

It was like déjà vu all over again.

"Sam," I murmured cautiously, as if scared of the sound of my own voice - a voice that came out sounding dry and groggy due to my parched throat.

My voice was similar to a signalling whistle at the beginning of a race, because soon enough, my waist was seized between strong capable hands and I was flipped over, until a hard unyielding body found its way between my thighs.

I squealed in horror and half-mast green eyes, weighed down by sleep, drank their fill of me.

"Anna," Samuel returned in a lazy drawl that sounded way too sexy to my ears for five-thirty in the morning.

The early sunlight peaking through the partially open blinds caused pinstripe like shadows to mar across Sam's figure, namely his gleaming naked torso. He looked like a virility God in that moment. Patches of ink artwork dotted his finely chiseled body in different areas. I inspected them for the first time, enraptured by the delicate details. A date in bold black roman letters was underneath his left pectoral. A scripture in cursive lettering engraved on the side of his right ribs. A half sleeve on his right arm, going down to his elbow, was a mixture of several things that were beautiful, deep and unsettling at the same time.

"You done checking me out?"

My fingers stilled as I jerked on top of him. Although his smile was pure dark amusement, there was an entire different story playing behind his eyes - like he truly enjoyed me touching him, drawing and tracing my finger up and down his tats. The burning wildfire look swirling in his depths was a pointer.

"You need to stop doing this to me..." I said breathlessly.

Sam stretched his taut body beneath mine like a feline, his abs- holy Lord, he was packing an eight - and biceps flexing and dipping deliciously. The corded muscles in his neck strained for a flutter as he regarded me through a hooded gaze.

"Doing what?" he rumbled in his sleep-roughed voice.

I swallowed thickly, but couldn't look away from him. God, he really was so beautiful. So big, so hard, so strong. I'd never seen a guy like him, built so rugged and perfectly as he.

"Anna," he called out to me again, and his hands caressed over my back, before they imprinted big and bold under my top, against the heated skin of my waist. "Doing what?"

"We..." I couldn't breathe. Not because of my headache, but because of him. Because of how his hands felt like iron bands searing me. Because of how he looked as I straddled him, fingers digging in his sculpted pecs. "We keep finding ourselves in each other's beds."

Sam smirked a little tauntingly but lifted an eyebrow carelessly, and I recognized the look in his eyes. Hunger. Desire. Fvcking lust. I wasn't one to play coy, I knew when a guy was into me. And, for all my flaws and fvcked-up excuses, I was into him, too. It's the only reason why my eyes kept flickering to his mouth, which looked red and swollen, as if he'd bit his bottom lip a few times too many.

Oh, God. That realization should have had my insides freezing into icy trickles. Instead I felt them flaming and warming into hot rivulets that flowed like blood within my veins, as his warm knuckles slid around my waist and towards my ribs like I'd done to him mere moments ago when I was feeling his artwork. I liked the feel of his warm hands on my bare skin.

"And that's a problem because..." His hands? No. It was his voice caressing me, until it settled deep into my bones, clutching my heart in a vice-like grip. My eyes fluttered close and I tried, tried, desperately, weakly, to get rid of it all. It wouldn't happen. It just wouldn't.

His knees came up until his feet were resting on the bed and his thighs were up against my back. It pushed me forward, until our c*ores brushed. I gasped and Sam sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth, before tossing his head back and gr0aning.

"Now that's a problem," he chuckled huskily, but there was a strained quality to his laugh as he gestured to his morning wood. It was a big one, too. "Well, good morning to you, Barbie."

I blushed and tried climbing off from the provocative position, but he held me there. Despite my red cheeks, I glared at him. "You're only making it more worse for you."

He laughed again and his chest rumbled with the laugh. The sound vibrated through me. "It's a sweet, bearable kind of pain."

"You're twisted, Sam." And his hands were still clutching my bare skin. Every inch of me was burning now as I reached under my shirt to pull his hands out and shoot daggers at him. "And you're fvcking obsessed with touching me. Let me go."

He dropped his hands, but propped himself up on his elbows, nearly putting our faces inches apart. "I can say the same for you." His eyes scanned something before they sparked mischievously. "Nice bra."

A gasp later and I was pulling the neckline of my askew t-shirt higher to block the view of my hot-pink bra. "This was your plan, wasn't it? Get me drunk and then into your bed."

Thunder rolled in those eyes. "If you think I'm all about taking advantage of a woman, then you really don't have me figured out. You didn't have to drink as much as you did. You did that all on your own. As for my bed, it's a coincidence. I could have just as well landed in yours. We were both tired and drunk out of our minds. Relax."

"Fine. I'm sorry. That came out bitchy," I apologized and finally, finally got off his lap. I ignored the look he gave me. "I'm hung-over and tired and we have school in a few hours and this is the second time this happened."

Fluidly, Sam sat up in his bed and stretched out his body again, cracking his knuckles and neck and arms and whatnot. He levelled me with a smirk. "Forgiven. It was an accident."

"It won't happen again," I mumbled as I bent down and scooped up my thigh highs from his bedroom floor. If my mom knew we'd brought shoes into the house, she'd kill us. God, how drunk and stupid did we have to be? I know nothing happened between us last night...because, well, it was obvious. I could feel it. I'm just not sure how Sam's t-shirt got off in the process. "Right?"

He jutted his chin. Didn't say anything for awhile. When I pressed on, he agreed under his breath, "It won't happen again."

I took a deep breath. "Thank you." Then added, "You have, um, really, nice, uh, tattoos."

There was one tattoo that stood out to me now that he was sitting up. One I'd seen often, near his neck, always hidden underneath his collar except when he moved, giving little flashes and glimpses of what it portrayed. It seemed incomplete. The beginning of a ferocious looking phoenix's head creeping up his collarbone and neck, its feathers beginning to span down to his left shoulder, down to his bicep. It was left there, incomplete. It was the prettiest of them all, shaded in various blacks and greys. The same one I was captured by the night he and I first got drunk.

I motioned to it as I continued fixing myself up, hoping that he wasn't judging my appearance. Please, please, tell me my hair looked fine. No mascara or eyeliner streaks under my eyes. "Why that one?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." It didn't matter if it was early morning, cockiness was always present.

"I've got one, too."

Samuel's ears perked up at my statement and he stood up, towering in the room in his six feet four height. "A tattoo?"

"Yeah." It was true. I got it after Joey.

"Where?"

I flashed him a saucy smirk over my shoulder as I twisted the door handle. "Wouldn't you like to know."

His answer was a heart-pounding grin that slowly tipped the corners of his mouth. He liked my sass. No, even loved it. My heart flipped and cart wheeled inside my ribcage.

My gaze dropped to the obvious mammoth bulge tenting his jeans and I smirked. "Wood morning to you, too, Beer Boy."

*          *          *

If I thought nursing a painful hangover the morning of a school day was bad, then seeing the cute guy who was interested in you (and who you ditched twice) was a lot worse.

Troy was the last thing on my mind when I barrelled through the west wing building doors, a mouthful of croissant, and bag and coffee held haphazardly in my hands.

As if slow motion, the world around us rolled to a near stop when our gazes crashed in midst of the franticness surrounding us - students hustling and bustling from one direction to another, pure and ultimate chaos defining the hallways.

His footsteps eased to an abrupt halt and he stared at me for a second longer, before hurt paved its way across his face, turning his smile into a frown.

And I stood in the middle of the hallway, continuously chewing my croissant. I tried a smile.

He walked past me.

Three point five seconds later and I registered what occurred. Scarfing my pastry and washing it down with scalding coffee, I sprinted after him.

"Troy!"

He didn't pivot around, but judging from the tightly bunched muscles of his back, my voice definitely carried to him.

"Troy!" I tried yet again.

People looked at me funny, but I was a possessed woman on a mission to set things straight. I needed to apologize.

"Troy, please, stop!"

He complied, his feet coming to a dead stop. It was enough to have me crashing into his back.

My lungs had gotten a good exercise out of it and my leg muscles ached, reminding me that I needed to add an extra set to my workout if I was already this winded.

"What?" he suddenly uttered, wheeling around.

The look he gave me - exhausted and embarrassed - crashed through me and ignited a series of emotions like a chain reaction, one fallen domino knocking the next one and the next one and the next until there was nothing left. Pain. Sadness. Embarrassment. Annoyance. Anger at myself.

Because the truth is he had nothing to be embarrassed about. I was the bitch who'd left him twice.

"I'm sorry," I wheezed out, still attempting to catch my breath.

His eyes shuttered. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Pairs of curious eyes settled on me - or specifically the scene Troy and I created. Those who recognized me and considered talking about me a taboo, whispered secretively to their friends with sly looks shot my way. Maybe they were afraid it would ignite my wrath. I'd forgotten that Northwind once considered me to be some kind of royalty, a party queen amongst them who strolled the hallways like some goddess with irrevocable powers to turn your social life around with a snap of her fingers. But two years was a long time and I'd been kicked off my throne. I wasn't that same girl.

But apparently I still had the looks and bod, because two years down the road and people still conversed about me like I was a fallen legend amongst their sacred social ladder.

"I heard that she could easily down eleven shots with ease and not puke." One whispered.

"Are her b0obs fake or something? Her waist is too tiny and her a$s is too curvy. She's fake."

Another echoed. "I heard she's participated in two threes0mes, and has already mastered the art of s*xty-nine."

More petty gossip. I tried to block it all and concentrate on a irritated Troy, but couldn't. My nose stung.

I'd only had $ex once. My mom naturally had a busty chest with the smallest waist, hence where I got my 34DD (occasionally 32DDD) from, and I worked out a lot in the past, the reason for my toned legs and booty. I usually puked by my twelfth shot. I wasn't perfect by any standard.

Troy cursed under his breath and dragged me away from the crowd. I tried to regain my composure.

With speed, his irises darted over my face to check for my reaction. Seeing that I was okay, he eased back, dropping his hand from my shoulder.

"Hi," I said lamely on a breath when we were away from everyone. "I'm sorry."

He frowned, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder.

"I didn't mean to or want to leave you alone that night," I quickly added. "I had an emergency. When I came back, you were gone and I didn't know how to contact you..."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline and it felt like an insult. It probably was.

"-So I just wanted to say I'm sorry-" I rushed out, fidgeting with my bag and coffee. "First the party and now this. I'm sorry. I'm not usually a bitch like that."

We locked gazes for a few moments. Troy then finally resigned on a sigh and shoved his fingers through his curly brown hair.

"You made a fool of me twice," he mumbled. "First leaving me hanging with drinks in my hand, then a second time waiting by a pool table for a girl who never showed up."

And both times it had boiled down to my ugly past. I'd let myself get controlled by the memories of my ex-boyfriend. And both times I'd never returned because of Samuel Adams.

I made a face as embarrassment heated my cheeks. "I'm sorry."

Troy didn't say anything.

"For what it's worth, I really wanted to hang out with you."

He didn't look too convinced. I didn't blame him.

I stepped closer to him and opted for a smile that was a little on the weak side. "I was, um, wondering, if you'd like to give it another shot. I promise I won't run away this time to tend to my emergencies."

Troy's clean-shaven jaw worked - I liked him better with stubble, but he was still cute - and he didn't look like he believed me as he peered at me with eyes full of mirth.

"What if there's a third time? I respect that you have emergencies, but..." He smirked sadly. He shoved his pockets in his low slung jeans. "Anna, I think you're cool, but I'm not down for that."

My lips parted in disbelief, even though I expected it.

With a head nod my way, he said, "I'll see you around," and proceeded to walk away.

I was engulfed with an overall shitty feeling, and it had nothing to do with my hangover.

*        *       *

I could feel Sam's eyes on me.

"Is there a reason why you both look like shit?" Layla asked skeptically from her perched position on the bench.

We were in the courtyard having lunch while waiting for Gabriela to come join us.

"Well we left kind of late." I speared a cherry tomato with my plastic fork before popping it in my mouth.

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you hung-over?"

"Something like that."

While she smirked at my misery, I pushed my Ray-Bans higher up the bridge of my nose to shield myself from the glaring sunlight. It further relieved my headache.

"He's watching you again."

I snapped my eyes up and found Layla's dancing with amusement.

There was only one guy who did that...who's eyes I could always feel on my back. His gaze didn't make my skin crawl like the other guys who admonished me with attention. In fact, what his gaze did to me was a far, far cry from that.

Giving in, I peaked over my shoulder and was graced with Sam's cute smirk as he adjusted the black ball cap on his head (he was probably wearing it for the same reason that I wore my sunglasses - hangover).

"So you're sure there's nothing going on between you two?"

"Positive."

"Doesn't seem that way." Layla took a bite of her sandwich. "He can't keep his eyes off of you. Josh noticed it yesterday, too."

"You're reading too much into it." My cheeks flamed anew. Because, really, how did I feel about him constantly laying his green hypnotizing gaze on me? "He's just a flirt."

"This has nothing to do with flirting."

A tray filled with assortments of food was sat next to mine as Gabby dropped into her seat. "Hey."

"Hey, girl," Layla welcomed her with a massive beam. "How are you?"

I rubbed her back in greeting.

Gabby avoided our gaze at first, before giving in with a sigh. "Sorry I ran out on you ladies."

"You have nothing to apologize for, babe," I reassured her. "Last night was a bad scene, and we're all very sorry."

Layla nodded with a grave expression. "One hundred percent with Anna. It turned into a shit show. That wasn't supposed to happen."

Gabby smiled reluctantly, seeming to understand the depth of our apology without us having to delve too much into it. After all, that's why we were best friends - and sometimes even more than that. Sisters.

For a brief moment we played with the idea of silence, attempting to eat our lunches in mutual quietness before it got unbearable. We realized it wasn't our thing.

Gabby's mouth twitched up hesitantly. "We're okay, guys." And said what we were all wondering.

Relief poured itself between us like a flowing river and ebbed the tension cloud looming above our heads like a knife. Gabriela's mouth worth as she tried to say something - most likely something dirty to relieve the atmosphere.

Her attention was snagged by something beyond my shoulder and her sentence was left hanging in the air. "Uh - Why is Samuel staring at you like that?"

Layla burst out laughing and I groaned, covering my face. "Not you, too."

"He's been constantly checking her out," Layla said yet again with a mouthful of chips.

"No kidding," Gabby replied. "He eye-fvcked you last night at the table, Anna. Admit it."

Everything was back to normal if they were making jokes at my expense. Still I didn't like the words Samuel Adams and eye-fvcking in the same sentence.

As searing-hot, good-looking and panty-melting that I may find him, parts of Sam scared me. I knew what those parts were capable of. They'd dig deep into my locked vault and pull out secrets I wished to remain hidden.

"You're not one to talk, Gabs," I threw back. "Hunter."

Her entire demeanor changed and she winced. "About last night..." Shuffling her tray of food, she sat up straighter.

The soft air billowed her fiery strands and caused a peaceful expression to touch her face.

Layla gave a sad smile. "You can't avoid this forever. You're going to have to tell us eventually. There's nothing to hide from us."

"I know." Her shoulders deflated. "Promise you won't tell anyone. Not even Josh."

Layla's eyes glinted. "Hun, you know your secrets are always safe with us."

I pressed a hand to her back and smiled softly. "Anytime you want to talk, we're here to listen, all right? You can tell us whatever and whenever. You should never bottle things inside."

It only turned you bitter and miserable. Everybody needed someone to whom they could expel their thoughts, emotions and feelings.

Gabriela raked a frustrated hand through her hair. "Okay. All right. But we will never talk about this ever again?"

I crossed my heart and hoped to die. "Promise, sweetheart."

"And don't interrupt me until I'm finished, please..."

Layla pretended to zip her mouth and shoot the key somewhere over her shoulder in the grass.

"Promise, sweetheart," she repeated.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Gabby mumbled like she was about to be sick.

"It started junior year around March. I met Hunter Warren because we had physics together. As cliché as this sounds, my teacher assigned us to a group project and naturally I paired myself with the smartest person in class - Hunter - because everyone knows that science is not my forte.

"-Basically it started off very platonic. We met up at coffee shops to put together our end of the tern presentation. You guys know how I feel about jocks - can't stand them. I thought he'd be like the rest of them: cocky, arrogant, and a piece of shit. Smart, but shitty."

Gabby dated slash fvcked many athletes in the past and they'd always screw her over.

"But he became my friends and I became his."

Gabby smirked cynically at our curious expressions and shook her head. "He was dating this girl at that time - Rachel - but they'd been on and off for months. It boiled down to them having a rocky relationship. I was seeing Blake at that time; remember him? Anyways I'm giving you the shortened version of what happened. When Blake and I broke up in May, Hunter had called it quits with Rachel. Our project ended but we still hung out as friends. I guess, deep down inside, we just needed an excuse to see each other. I enjoyed his company and I know for a fact that he liked being with me, too. He remained a good friend of mine. I saw him every day. Eventually friendship led to other things."

The wry smile playing on her lips spoke volumes.

"I began liking him, like really, really liking him. What's not to like? He is really hot. Somewhere between those dates we snuck in a couple of make out sessions in the back of his Escalade and the rest is history, I guess. We slept together a few times, the first time at one of Josh's parties-"

"Shut the fvck up!" Layla butt in with big eyes. "You're kidding me!"

I glared at her to shut the fuck up.

Gabby's look didn't change. "After that...it became obvious we were seeing each other. That whole summer...Holy crap. I don't think I've ever had that much $ex in my life. He finally asked me to be his girlfriend and then he kept asking me several times over the months. I don't know why I always freaked out but I did. I said no. Shot him down too many times I guess. It hurt me knowing that I was hurting him, but I don't know why I kept doing it. Relationship aren't my things and they've never ended well for me. I loved being with him...but what if it all went to hell and I lost him?"

My heart hurt for my idiotic best friend, but I didn't utter a word. She needed to let this out.

"By the time I pulled my head out of my a$s, it was too late. Next thing I know is school's back on and Hunter is back together with Rachel," she laughed bitterly. "Even though he swore a million times that she was a psychotic bitch."

The quietness lingered, before I assumed it was safe to break it. "So you said no to him even though you really, really liked him because you were afraid of commitment?"

Her face flushed to match her hair color.

Layla was silent as she thoughtfully chewed her sandwich. "I hate to admit it, Gabby, but that's awful and...I...admit...a bit of your fault, too. You can't let your issues ruin the best bits in your life. Sometimes you need to take a leap. The risk can be worth the end results. From what I've seen, Hunt's a really good guy who obviously still feels the same or you. Hell, sometimes he texts Josh to text me to know how you're doing. I don't know why he went back with Rachel when he still can't get over you, but I also know that you aren't completely at fault since he should have tried harder with you."

I nudged Gabby. "What's his side of the story?"

"That I apparently hurt him," Gabby bit out humorlessly. Her gaze took on a far-away quality. "Simple and straight-up. Cheapened his feelings until he'd given up."

"Be he hasn't," Layla pointed out encouragingly. "Clearly last night was a statement."

Gabby rolled her eyes and snorted like it was a joke.

Layla turned to me in hopes that I could lift up Gabby's spirits, but the truth is, I had nothing. Nada. Zero knowledge when it came to relationships.

The truth is that I was only learning now how to be careful with the bits you showed to people - the good and the bad ones - because people tended to dig out the ones that made you appear weak and vulnerable and spit all over them. Or worse, hold them against you.

"So what now?" I asked her.

Gabby's spirits fell along with the sardonic tilt of her lips. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

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A/N's: Leave me your thoughts on GABBY AND HUNTER'S HISTORY?! What do you think is his deal with his girlfriend? And...lool Sam's and Anna's tats? x

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