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Current Chapter Posted - Monday, July 4th 2016

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{ Chapter 21 } : Into Him and More

Smoking two joints and getting high with Samuel wasn't the best idea.

Neither was getting drunk and winding up in each other's beds.

No. By far the dumbest decisions. My stupidest mistakes.

Those encounters did nothing but awaken a colossal one-eyed green monster named envy inside of me. Those encounters opened doors to insecurity, to vulnerability, and, the worst of them all, to the ability of actually feeling hurt.

Something strong and poisonous coursed in my veins. Something that could only be depicted as sheer disbelief and immense hurt as my weary gaze latched onto Sam's figure from across the hallway.

My feet had a mind of their own as they eased to a full stop smack dab in the middle of the south wing. Sam looked to be intimately lost in a conversation with a vaguely familiar looking raven beauty. Their cheeks were close as they hushed incomprehensible words to one another. Sam's hair fell forward on his forehead endearingly and his hand on her waist tightened.

Oddly enough, it felt like a tight vice had wrapped its cords around my heart and clenched hard.

My grip on my afternoon coffee mirrored the one wrapped around my vital organ until hot liquid scalded the skin of my hand. I didn't even hiss. I took the pain. Welcomed it, even.

It was a slight reminder that feeling more, wanting more, wasn't always a great idea.

Then the corners of his mouth tipped up in such a sweet smile that the pounding ache in my ribcage only worsened. Had he ever...given me that smile?

Sam leaned forward to kiss her cheek. In the hallway. In the entire populace of this vicinity.

I wheeled around.

Oh, God. What was happening to me?

My heart was racing and I was finding it difficult to swallow. Heat suffused my entire face.

...And I figured it out.

I was, strangely enough, jealous.

In the last few weeks, Sam had showered me with attention and silent promises. Saving me from those goons in the alleyway. Helping me when I puked too much after Josh's party. Showing me his gentle sides. Finding me at the cemetery and taking me home. Telling me that guilt had no reason to live within me. And saving me once again in more ways than one when it all boiled down to his personal choices.

Maybe, in the back of my mind, those moments had already begun to lead to more when in reality there was nothing such as; Samuel Adams was genuinely a nice guy who was cocky, and flirted a little too much with the ladies.

What...different was I? Sure we'd gotten a little too close because of our circumstances, but I think he was a little into me after yesterday and this morning. I was sure of it. He'd admitted it indirectly. Now I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Especially now that I spotted him kissing the cheek of the same girl he was fooling around with that day in the library.

Fvck.

Fvck. Fvck. Fvck.

This is what I'd always been scared of. Getting too close. To the flame. To the irresistible attraction I had towards notorious bad boy Sam. And I did. If I wasn't too careful now, I'd burn in the aftermaths of that fire.

This is exactly how it started with Joey. God. But I knew. I knew Sam wasn't Joey. God. What in the world had I gotten myself into?

My skin chilled as realization dawned upon me.

I was fvcking into Samuel Rafael Adams.

Admitting it should have made me feel light like a feather, but I felt heavy on the inside like a ton of bricks.

Fvck. Fvck. Fvck.

He apparently couldn't stop thinking about me. I couldn't stop thinking about him either.

Fvck. Fvck. Fvck.

But...he probably went around behaving the same way with me as the other girls. He was known for dating and sleeping with plenty of women.

Against my better judgment, I peaked over my shoulder with a fearful gaze.

My eyes collided with Samuel's who was looking directly at me. Right. At. Fvcking. Me. Raven beauty suddenly gone.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

Sam's entire demeanor flared as he noticed something morphing on my face.

He strolled my way purposely. I spun around fast and sauntered away as quickly as my nude thigh-high gladiators would allow.

His rumbled call caressed me. That deep voice had me blushing for no reason. I only quickened my steps.

"Anna!"

He came close; too close. His hand on my shoulder halted me.

I stiffened.

"Where are you going?" Sam murmured gravelly from behind me, slowly forcing me to turn around and meet his storming eyes.

Far, far away from you, I thought, from your soul-searing eyes, your heart-thudding smile, your this-is-literally-what-wet-dreams-are-made-of body. And your stupid more. Shove it up your asshole, kindly.

"Home." I didn't recognize my own voice.

His eyebrows knitted together. I wanted - no, ached - to touch the scar above his left temple. "Why?"

Because of you. "Why do you have a new scar?"

"Anna," he whispered and he was so close that his hot breath brushed the skin of my forehead. "What's wrong? Why are you going home half day?"

Because a new headache was forming in my head and I should have never drank or smoked or 'mored' with you.

"I don't feel good."

Fingertips feathered down my cheek like last night. "Why, Barbie?"

My eyes rose to meet his conflicted ones. He allowed it. "My head's not in the right place," I finally admitted in a small hush.

He understood the double-meaning in my words. "Let me put it in the right place," he whispered so sweetly, I wanted to punch him for talking so nicely to me like that.

Why do you keep messing with my head?

But I moved away and shook my head before he could touch me. "I'd rather you not."

Something akin to pain sliced Sam's soft expression and his mouth turned down in a wounded frown.

"I'm sorry," I rushed out. "I-I should go."

I left him standing in the middle of the hallway.

*      *     *

It was getting a little out of hand how often I was having nightmares and headaches.

When I'd come home, I spent a little bit of time with my mom since she'd surprisingly had a half day today. It wasn't until three p.m that I took my pills when my headache intensified that I went to crash on my bed.

That coffee hadn't helped my case.

I didn't even change my clothes, remaining in my white romper and thigh-high shoes.

And that's probably why I woke up in a fit from my nightmare, caught off guard from my surroundings and the fact that I was still wearing my shoes in my bed.

My heart raced and my shallow breaths echoed in the eerie silence of my dark room. I sat up in one jerky movement.

I'd relived the moment where I watched my father's casket being lowered six feet beneath the ground. With four year old Michael clutching my leg, not knowing what was happening. With my mother weeping beside me for the dead love of her life.

It was moments like these where I didn't only feel like a monster, but a killer as well. For ripping away the one source of affection and love in my mom's life. For robbing Michael of the one father figure in his life.

How could someone who'd stolen happiness from others live in their own happiness?

I had a fleeting moment of déjà vu as I clambered off my bed and checked the time. Ten thirty p.m. Oh, God. Panic dawned over me as I wondered if my mom had left and if my little angel was tucked into his bed.

The pounding ache only drummed as I stumbled out of my room. My mom wasn't here because her bedroom door was shut - she only left it open when she was home.

A sense of relief crackled within me when I tiptoed to Michael's bedroom, peering through the open door at his sleeping figure.

Tomorrow I'd give him time. For sure.

Once in the bathroom, I washed my face and gave my teeth a quick brush. I debated quickly taking another shower but burned that thought out as I remembered taking a shower this morning.

Suddenly it felt like every last bit of energy was drained from my body as I closed my eyes and swayed. Ironically enough, a long nap should have woken me up, but I felt quite the opposite of it.

I needed a T.O.

I hoisted myself up on the bathroom vanity and sat with my head hung low, my feet dangling before me.

The bathroom door creaked open. I hadn't locked it. My fingers dug painfully in the bathroom counter. I didn't even have to look up. I knew who it was.

"Anna?" Sam's concerned baritone bounced off the walls of the tight space, echoing deep in me.

"Yeah." I kept my gaze locked on my peach-painted toenails.

I only lifted my face when his big feet entered my line of vision. Our eyes flared in contact and I was shocked to see the high level of intensity marred across his face.

I was wrong. The bathroom wasn't a tight space. Sam's alluring and commanding presence, combined with his kick-ass-clad-only-in-black-silk-boxers body evaded the entire place.

He approached me cautiously like a predator. "I needed to wash my hands."

I merely canted my head in the direction of the sink beside me.

He washed his hands quickly and dried them off on a small square hand towel. "I heard you screaming." His emerald gaze searched me. "Are you okay?"

I smiled wryly at the ground. Of course he didn't need to wash his hands. He just wanted to have this conversation. Sam was an open-book - at least right now.

"Yeah." I cleared my throat, looking up at him. "I'm okay."

Sam shifted closer to me and rested both palms on either side of my thighs, crouching forward until we were eye-level. At six feet four, Sam was one of the few guys who towered my five foot nine frame.

Body heat rolled off of him in waves, due to our close proximity, and I dug my palms deeper into the counter to stop myself from pushing away the messy blond strands falling across his forehead.

"Want to talk about it?" he breathed.

My chest rose with my massive inhale. "No."

"Jodanna," he tried again and took on a gentler and softer tone. The skin of my knees - peeking through my thigh-high gladiators - grazed Sam's rock hard stomach muscles. His abs jumped and flexed from the contact and he straitened. Sam moved his hands closer to my hips until the inside of his arms were touching the outside of mine.

"Tell me about it. Please."

I didn't want to talk about it. But Sam wanted me to.

"I dreamt of my father," I whispered.

Sam's face melted. "Shit...Barbie, I'm sorry."

His words gave me courage. I continued on. "I watched his casket being lowered into the ground. I watched Michael standing beside me. Scared and confused. I watched my mom weeping for her dead husband."

Sam held my gaze as he brushed aside my blond strands behind my shoulders.

A harsh breath fluttered out of my lips. "And it all boils down to it being my fault."

Sam's eyes were alive, burning and flickering like wildfire as he folded his hands behind my neck. "I've told you before," he kneaded my muscles with strong, capable hands until I melted to putty. "Guilt has no business staying inside of you. The faster you come to terms with it, the faster you feel free."

"I feel like I deserve to feel trapped."

"That's not you talking, Anna. That's your guilt."

My confession had drained me of everything. Yet Sam's warm touch and wistful words awoken an instinct in me - Trust.

A lone tear streamed down the slope of my cheek and Sam's fingers rose to catch it before it fell. "There, there, Barbie," he crooned softly. "It's okay to let it out."

The softness he put up for me splintered my chest. I didn't even care that I shed a tear in front of him.

My mouth broke out into a watery smile as Sam eased forward once again and wrapped his left arm around my waist. My arms bracketed his shoulders in return as he pressed his cheek to mine. I dipped my chin to hide my expression into his throat.

And, I could have sworn, I heard his heartbeat resonating with my own.

He didn't top touching me with his free hand. Sam moved my thighs apart so he was standing between them and they rested comfortable on either side of him. He continued massaging my arm, my hip and even my thigh with his right hand so my bunched muscles relaxed under his touch.

When he fingers ghosted up and reached the beginning of my shoe on my thigh, he lazily toyed with the bare skin peaking through my straps. He lazily fingered the zipper of my shoes behind my thigh, and raised his face so he could look at me with a devilish glint in that daredevil gaze.

My breath hitched. "You're obsessed with touching me."

The sound of my zipper opening echoed in the bathroom like a statement, and then he was ripping my thigh-high down my leg. Once my leg was free, he hooked his hand behind it and wrapped it around his waist. Leaving me open for him.

My fingers gripped his bare shoulders as the new position caused us to shift and push into one another. "S-Sam."

"You've literally got the softest skin I've ever felt." He peered at me through his lashes, biting his lower lip as his hand coasted up my other leg to remove my shoe.

I thought those words would make me feel giddy. But all I felt were anger and annoyance. How many girls had he said that to?

My mind was stamped with an image of him and the girl in the hallway.

"That's probably not something you should be saying to me," I said with no emotion. "Especially when you have a girlfriend."

Sam jerked as if I'd shot him and he blanched. The lazy look dissipated from his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"The girl in the hallway."

He stiffened and glared at me. "That's what this is about? You think I'm dating her - That she's my girlfriend?"

Deny it, Sam. Deny it, please. I jerked my chin defiantly. Actually, don't. It's better if we stay away from each other.

But...I didn't want to stay away from him. I'd come to enjoy his company.

My mind was spiraling out of control and having him this close to me didn't help. I no longer knew what I wanted.

Sam took my silence for something else. His hand came up to cup my chin. Narrowed eyes pierced me. "That's why you didn't want me to drive you home? Because you think she's my girlfriend?"

Stubborn silence was my only answer.

He exhaled a frustrated sound. "I'm not that much of a bastard, Anna," he spat. "Do the math. I wouldn't be here with you right now, would I?"

My mouth twisted. "I don't really know you, Sam." I pushed at his chest until he back away. I hopped off the counter."I don't know anything about you." At least I've told you about my dead father. That's not something I share with anyone.

He stepped away from me, as if disgusted. "I know you. That's bullshit. You know me."

I whispered out, "Do I?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "What do you want from me, Anna?"

"That's my line, Sam," I murmured, glancing up at him. "I'm here wondering what you want from me?"

His eyes steeled, but I didn't miss the slight hint of hurt - of yearning - as he stared down at me. Not at my body. At me. At my eyes. As if he was trying to look for the real me, for the girl I kept buried underneath, and finding no pieces of her.

"If you don't know what I want from you, then I guess we're wasting our time here."

I skipped a breath.

"I don't go around saving random girls from assholes in the alleyway and then seek their closeness. I don't wake up next to random girls in the morning," he threw out, pissed. "Hope that helps, Anna. Think about it."

And this time, he left me standing in the bathroom.

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A/N's: As always, leave me your thoughts! Basically Sam and Anna know they're attracted to one another. Anna's not to crazy about that thought. Sam doesn't share as much as Anna. Anna's doesn't like the fact that other women fawn over him like her. Sam's basically telling her he doesn't treat every girl like he treats her. Dun. Dun. Dun!

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