E.W.E.W - L.W.T.B.B Copyright © 2012-2017 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

Current Chapter Posted - Saturday, August 19, 2017

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{ Chapter 36 }: LOL, I have no chapter title fml help me find one

We ended up falling asleep in the recliner, wrapped up in my favorite blanket, with our limbs tangled for our final night together.

We talked, and talked, and talked until knocking out.

Sam shared heartwarming stories from his childhood. He said his sister loved him dearly and that, with her caring and compassionate-self, she was his role model. They used to go for gelato every Thursday evening after her volleyball practices. Her favorite flavors were lime and cookie dough. His were strawberry and chocolate bacio.

His mom used to teach him the basics of cooking every Saturday morning until he'd hit the rowdy age of thirteen.

Sam's father got him into football. He only continued playing since it was a good way for him to fill his time, and his coaches claimed he was good. He split his time between MMA and football, even though the latter wasn't as appealing to him as the former. He said only a handful of people knew about Sam and his fighting, as Richie was working on getting his underground gym legalized. Football was a nice coverup for MMA. No one questioned him when he got injuries or bruises. They blamed it on football practices. He said he'd be done with football when the year was up, since he had no plans of going pro like some of the guys on his team.

We stayed away from topics of the fight.

I was too scared to delve into the meaning of his statement. My decision has never been clearer to me, Anna. I knew what it meant. I just wanted to live in ignorance, because ignorance was bliss.

His words from many nights ago echoed in my head. I'll fight for you, too.

It's too late. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you.

At the beginning of the school year, when I'd been out for lunch with Gabriela and Layla, I'd seen Sam shooting pool with a couple of his friends at Danny's Grill. The sentiment that resonated inside of me after his cocky wink was that he wasn't the giving up kind.

I was right.

He fought for what he truly believed in. Literally. Now I was who he chose to believe in.

Trusting and caring. They were dangerous words. Especially because they had the power to drive one to the brink of doing something fucking crazy.

This guy - so special to me - was willing to put himself in harm's way if it meant keeping me out of it.

I was cold until he'd come along. He took the frozen cage surrounding my heart and shattered it with his bare two hands. Took the broken shards and carved his name in. That kind of dent was for life. He wasn't leaving me. He couldn't. His words and touches brought me warmth, a soothing balm to the chill once living inside me. Now I needed it. It was vital. He was vital. If he were gone, I'd lose it all.

I wasn't ready to give anything up. Not now. Not ever.

I was keeping Samuel Rafael Adams, fate be damned.

I lazily roamed my fingernails between the part of his silk shirt. Those sinewy muscles, so responsive, jumped at my touch. That part of him spoke to me on an unearthly level, and I couldn't help myself from leaning forward and l!cking him, down to his solid eight-pack like he was my favorite flavor of candy.

Sam groaned low in his throat as I took my time worshiping his tattoos with small fleeting kisses. He pulled me astride so I had better access. "Take off your shirt, Sam."

He complied, whipping it off. He threw it on the floor like a gauntlet.

Tonight wasn't about fooling around. We could feel it. Tonight was just about him and I, and the simple moment created in the solarium. I wanted to feel his warm, chiseled body against mine. It was going to be my personal furnace and pillow as we slept.

"Tell me about your tattoos," I crooned as I brushed our mouths.

His breath hitched and he stared at me, under the stars, like I was his addiction. His addiction that he revered. "Which one do you want to know about?"

There were many times when we'd been like this, but never had I asked him about his ink.

I felt excited as I scratched lightly down his chest with my long pink nails. He groaned in anguish at the scoring marks I left. He knew they would fade away. He knew I would give them to him again - if he just asked nicely.

He loved my print on him. 

Sam kissed me with a hint of anger, thrusting his tongue in my mouth almost punishingly. I loved it. The feel of his bristly cheeks abrading my skin. The way his hands held me in a way that would leave finger-shaped bruises. 

A deep sound rumbled in his chest and vibrated along the edge of my jaw, where his mouth was still latched. I caressed underneath his left pectoral, where a small bold date in black roman lettering was inked. Sam shuddered. "This one," I whispered into his skin. 

"It's the date of Samantha's death," he said. "I never want to forget her. So I got it tattooed. It was my first. Nate did it for me."

I didn't know what to say. I rubbed his chest in comfort.

"Don't feel bad, babe. It's a tribute, in a way, you know. My way of showing my love for her. This way I always remember. She's not forgotten. Every morning when I look at myself in the mirror, I know my sister was alive and that she lived."

"I understand," I spoke under my breath. I'd gotten my quote tattooed because I never wanted to forget that hopeless moment in my life.

If I were ever to break down and relapse, I needed to pull myself together by the next day. Sink by night, emerge by dawn. It was kind of my mantra.

It defined me.

My fingers skirted over the beautiful cursive scripture on his right side. It covered his rib. Mea Culpa. "What does that mean?"

Sam grasped my fingers and kissed the pads of them. "It means my fault in Latin." His voice was laced with self-loathing.

My face twisted as a rush of sadness moved over me. "Oh, Sam." I cupped his stubble-covered jaw in my palm. "That night when you found me in the cemetery, you told me something that stands out to me even now. You said you have first hand experience of what guilt does. You said I needed to let it go before it eats me alive. I need you to do that same for me."

He searched my eyes for a second. "I know. I'm still trying, Anna."

"Good. You're trying. That's all that matters." I pressed my cheek to his and breathed for a moment. "Tell me about this one." I skimmed my hand over my favorite one: The phoenix in flight, inked where his neck met his shoulder, the tips of his wings burning into ashes on his upper arm and morphing into a falcon near his elbow. It was the most impressive one, shaded in various blacks and greys. It was a hauntingly gorgeous half-sleeve. I wondered who drew it? "It's beautiful."

"Nate drew it," Sam answered my thoughts with a smirk, and pride beaming in his orbs. "I got it a few months ago. Phoenix is said to be a one-of-a-kind bird that lives for years. It can burn itself and rise from the ashes to live again. I took that approach with my sister and the fighting. That night in the alleyway, where Nate found me after the beating I took for saving that little girl, I'd never experienced such pain. I wanted to die, Anna. But it was the start of it all. I survived. I got patched up. Nate saw something in me that enticed him to bring me to Richie's gym. I was reborn the second I pulled black tape around my fists and threw my first real punch."

"What does the falcon represent?"

"It represents Richie's training of me - falconry. He used to joke about how I was a hawk. Always quietly observing my surroundings. Always waiting to prey. Always ready to break out into a battle. He said I had this restless energy coiled inside of me. I had anger. He helped me tame it through MMA. The falcon is what I became after rising from the ashes. I know, don't make fun of me. It sounds corny, Anna."

I almost had no words. I pushed his hair away from his face. "No. I get it. It's not corny at all. It's beautiful, in fact. You really thought this through. And, I had no idea Nate could draw. Jesus, that's incredible."

"You should see his sculptures and paintings. He's an artist. He's amazing, Anna. He works part-time at the tattoo parlor near the strip. The next time you want a tattoo, I'll take you there."

"I'm game. I'll have to talk to him now that I've seen his artwork on you."

Sam held me close to his chest. "I know where you should get your next tattoo."

The mischievousness in his smile could he heard. Oh, boy. This was Beer Boy at his best. "Hmm. Where is that, hon?"

His thumb slyly moved over the mound between my legs. I felt that searing touch down to my bones and through my night dress. My legs clenched. "Right here, baby. Right fvcking here."

Oh, my God. "You are wicked. What should I get?"

The breathless quality of my voice didn't surprise me.

"My name. Samuel Rafael Adams's property. Or, at the very least, my initials."

"You want me to brand on my private lady parts that I'm yours?" I laughed.

His hand moved lightning quick, clapping my a$s. "You are mine, baby. Might as well that that fine skin inked with the proof."

* * *

There was sunlight in my eyes.

I mumbled something incoherent as I roused awake. The top of my head was warm, my hair shifting from Sam's light snoring. My cheek felt numb and wet. I pushed myself up on my elbows, feeling the imprint of his pectoral on my skin. I cringed when I realized I drooled on him. How cute.

Then the sun was gone.

A shadow loomed over us, blocking the light. Confused, I looked up with a groggy feeling fogging my mind.

My mom stood above us in her scrubs. Her arms were crossed over her chest. Fury etched on her expression. "Jodanna."

"M-Mom," I choked.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

We had slipped - screwed up. I glanced over at Sam's sleeping form underneath me. He looked so peaceful, like he'd been carved by God's very own angels. My living, breathing Adonis. 

Shit, we were only supposed to nap for an hour before going back to our respective rooms.

"You have a lot of explaining to do."

"I do?" I sat up nervously, chuckling. Oh, god. Was my t!t exposed? I wasn't wearing a bra and my negligee slipped dangerously close to my décolletage. "I-I think it's pretty self-explanatory. Anyways. Good morning. How's your day been? Any nuisances at the hospital?"

"Jodanna."

We'd majorly fucked up. 

"Yes, mom?"

"Want to start by telling me why in the world you're sleeping next to Tiffany's son, half naked in my backyard, with hickeys all over your neck?"

So I should have just told her from the start...

I groaned, smacking my forehead with my hand. Can't save this one, Anna. "Okay. Mom. You know that thing we have between you and I? That thing called trust?"

Sam shifted in his sleep and threw a muscular leg on my thigh, pulling me closer to him. His other hand idled waaaaay to close to my a$s. Then it groped me. Hard.

My mom bristled, her face flaming. She looked like a dragon ready to breathe fire down on me. "Mhm."

"Well don't loose it in me, okay? I...I have a lot to tell you."

* * *

Sam was getting ready to leave our house.

I was in the bathroom, combing my hair and changing for my lunch date with Gabby and Layla, when a familiar soft knock came through.

The door creaked open and I caught Sam's face.

I pushed it further and stepped out. "Hey."

"Hey," he whispered. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder with all his belongings. "I'm leaving so I just wanted to say goodbye properly."

Longing for when he'd be gone blossomed inside of my like a lonely flower and I quickly closed the distance between us. I used his shoulders to hike up his body until he was forced to drop his duffel bag and wrap his arms around my back to steady me. My legs winded around his legs and we went crashing straight against the wall, breathlessly.

No one was in the hallway so I mauled his face with cotton-soft kisses.

"Jesus, don't be so enthusiastic about me leaving." He buried his face in my throat and pecked a spot before nuzzling it. "You smell so good."

"It's not goodbye if I'm seeing you at Danny's tonight. And I just took a shower, that's why."

"Mmm. I am seeing you tonight." Our mouths opened and his tongue plundered, tasting me with a swiftness that left me gasping for air. He possessed the kiss. Owned it all. "Can't wait."

I slid down his body and cupped his jaw in both hands, staring him in the eyes. "How do you feel today? Do I need to take you to the hospital?" He shook his head and I clutched the collar of his leather jacket, drawing him closer. "Don't lie to me."

"I feel fine." He kissed one corner of my mouth. "Guess all I needed was you."

And all I need is you. 

"How do your ribs feel? Your face needs some more healing, but I'll dress your wounds tonight when I come over to your place. Ice your back when you get home as well, and take some painkillers for the pain-"

His hand shot out to the back of my head and he tugged me in roughly for another kiss that left me speechless. "Anna, stop hovering. I'm okay. I feel fine, baby. Thank you."

I pouted.

He chuckled huskily. "I need to get going. I said bye to your mom just now, but it was, awkward."

"It'll take time." I shrugged. "She'll come around."

My mom and I spoke over breakfast. I told her that Sam and I are technically dating. She wasn't mad, just disappointed that I hadn't trusted her enough to tell her. It made me feel like shxt. My mom and I had always had a good understanding between us. I didn't want her to lose trust in me. Not like she did when I was dating Joey. It took me forever to gain what I'd lost with her. But my mom, she liked Sam. She knew he wasn't Joey. She also understood that I was older and smarter. I could make my own decisions now. What happened with Joey Donald would never happen again with Samuel Adams.

"My mom wants to meet you, Anna. I've told her about you. She's really excited."

That warmed my heart. "I can't wait to meet her. When?"

"Maybe a week from now, when things have calmed down."

"I'd love that. Maybe, I don't know, we can all have dinner together? You know, with our moms."

"I'd love that." He kissed the top of my head. "Now I need to say bye to my little man as well."

As if on cue, Michael opened his bedroom door and came blazing out. He hugged Sam's leg with fierce longing. "Please. Don't leave me, Sammy."

Sam's face crumpled. He kicked his duffel bag to the side and fit his hands underneath Michael's armpits and lifted him up, before cradling his little body to his. "Not going anywhere, Mickey." His raspy voice was muffled. "I'll be seeing you more often now that I'm Anna's boyfriend."

Michael pulled away from his strong neck and gazed into Sam's green gaze with a childlike innocence. "You promise?"

My ovaries went BOOM when Sam puckered up and smacked a noisy kiss on Michael's cheek. "I promise, little man."

* * *

"Holy shit," Gabby echoed my exact sentiment. "So what did you tell your mom?"

We had lunch at a new Persian restaurant that Layla's dad was in the middle of acquiring. We decided to come back to my place to hang out, before going out to Danny's Grill with some of the guys to shoot pool.

"She told her the truth, Gabs." Layla was lounging on my bed like a queen, taking over all my plush pillows. She shot one at Gabby who was at my vanity. "That her and Sam are in loooooooove."

"Layla, you're damn annoying."

She flipped me the bird. "Deny it all you want, bitch."

Gabby was trying on a lipstick of mine, before she started chuckling. "How are things with Sugar Daddy, Lay? Y'all still disgustingly in love?"

I was in the middle of throwing on a pair of jeans over my black bodysuit when Layla looked down at her red nails with a distraught look. "Actually, we broke up."

My foot got stuck halfway in my pants. Gabby stumbled and got lipstick all over her teeth. "What?" We echoed in unison.

"Yup. So." Layla sat up, wiping her eyes. "I really don't want to talk about it. Nor do I want to see him tonight. I'm going to start crying if I do."

"Oh, my God. Layla, this is serious." Forget the jeans, I walked towards her half-naked. "Are you okay?"

"No kidding," Gabby whispered, coming to her.

She wiped another tear and my heart hurt for her. Before I could do anything about her situation, my cell caught my attention.

My phone buzzed on my blanket.

I just wanted to get a quick peak at who it was. I would answer them later, after I'd comforted Layla.

But my pulse quickened when I saw an unknown number. I paled. "No. No. No. No. No."

There was a video attached to it.

Sensing that something was wrong, Layla and Gabriela rushed next to me.

Reluctantly, I played it.

There was no sound. My hands trembled.

The angle was bad. It was shaky.

It looked like the woods. On the ground was Sam's black football jersey. The number 28 was lit in flames, burning away with licks of amber. The camera shook and changed views.

Connor O'Malley dark eyes and sinister smile laughed in my face.

The last shot was of a knife he was swinging maniacally in his hand.

The video ended.

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A/N's: I DON'T HAVE MUCH TO SAY BESIDES THE FACT THAT I LOVE A GOOD CLIFFHANGER. LEAVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS! NATE A TATTOO ARTIST? SAM'S TATTOOS? ANNA'S MOM CATCHING THEM? LAYLA AND JOSH? SAM'S JERSEY AND CONNOR?