Ray.

~~~

The week passed in a blur, a mix of recording sessions and filming bits and pieces for our newest video. It was a weird feeling of missing someone I don't know that well, but here I was excited to get out and see Samantha.

As I leaned against the side of my car, scrolling through my phone, I found myself checking the time every other minute. We agreed I would pick her up on our non-date, date.

The texts we exchanged each day were nice, but they weren't enough. I wanted to see her, to hear her laugh, to watch the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved.

When Sam stepped out of her building, my heart skipped a beat. She looked incredible, her black dress hugging her in all the right ways, her choker and jewelry adding a subtle edge to the look. For a second, I almost forgot what I was supposed to say. She beamed at me playfully as she walked closer. She looked nothing like before and I selfishly thought—hoped she dressed up for me.

"I was just about to call you," I said, holding up my phone like an idiot. My eyes swept over her again her makeup looked more edgy this time, and I couldn't help but stare. Do I hug her? Kiss her? Her burgundy-painted lips were holding a smile, as I stepped closer.

I sneaked my palm around her waist, her breathing hitching as she stared into my eyes. Good. As I Ieaned to kiss her she sneaked her hand on the nape of my neck. I knew the kiss wouldn't be deep as much as I wanted to devour her lips, she put work into her makeup. Our lips touched, and I closed my eyes taking in the moment. The kiss was brief but after a week without her, it was enough, for now.

"You look hot," I whispered to her ear, inhaling the scent of coconut.

Her lips curled into a soft smile, and I could see the faintest hint of color rise to her cheeks. "Thank you. Is that..." She pointed at my car. "An Impala?"

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Yeah. You know cars?"

"Not really," she admitted, looking a little embarrassed. "Technically, I own the same car."

"Technically?" I asked, curious.

"It's in New York, collecting dust in my grandfather's garage," she explained, shaking her head. "He gave it to me, but I've only driven it a few times." Her voice softened, almost wistful, as she added, "He bought it because of a show."

"Show?" I asked, not following.

"Supernatural," she said, her tone shifting slightly, as if she expected me to recognize it immediately.

I blinked, still not getting it. "Supernatural?"

She laughed lightly, probably at my cluelessness. "My grandfather was obsessed with the show. That's why he bought the car."

"My brother said it was a cool car, so I bought it," I admitted, smiling at the thought of her grandfather and his love for some show. "That's interesting, though. Your grandfather sounds like a character."

"He was," she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

I glanced around, spotting a no-parking sign a little ways off. "We should probably go," I said, gesturing to the car. "This might be a no-parking zone."

I opened the door for her, and as she slid into the passenger seat, I felt a strange mix of nerves and excitement. This wasn't a date, and we'd agreed on that, but it still felt like a date. I climbed into the driver's seat, and we took off toward the club on Hollywood Boulevard.

The drive was smooth, and the streets were surprisingly clear for LA. The twenty-five minutes flew by, but I stole glances at Sam whenever I could. She looked out the window, her face illuminated by the city lights, and I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking.

When we finally parked and started walking to the club, the distance between us felt too far, even though we were side by side. I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for hers. Just being near her again made the whole week of waiting worth it.

As we reached the club, the faint haze of smoke lingered near the entrance, curling around a group of people chatting in low voices. I held the door open for Sam, and we stepped inside. The place was quieter than I'd expected, with a sparse crowd milling about the ground floor.

I scanned the room quickly, instinctively seeking out familiar faces. My height had its advantages, spotting Scott leaning against the railing on the second floor was easy.

"This way," I said, nodding toward the metal stairs. Sam followed me, her eyes darting around as though she expected someone to jump out of the shadows.

As we climbed the stairs, I tried to reach for her hand, a small, reflexive gesture. She pulled away, the movement subtle but unmistakable. A pang of confusion hit me. Did I misread her comfort level? I glanced at her, but her face was unreadable, focused ahead.

We reached the group, and Scott's relaxed posture shifted the moment he saw us. His eyebrows shot up, and he quickly ran a hand through his blond hair, which was styled in a slick, wet look. His green eyes flickered under the shifting neon lights.

"Hey, guys," he greeted, his voice higher than usual. He gave Sam a quick hug, then turned to me, his handshake firm but brief. "Sam, you know Emeth, and maybe you remember Daisy," he added, his attention locking onto me like he was gauging my every move. "Emeth, Daisy this is Ray, you probably recognize him for last week's party."

"Nice to meet you both," I said, guessing they were at the house party but having no recollection of them.

Sam nodded politely and slid onto the couch beside Daisy. I followed, sitting next to her, though the air between us felt charged with some unspoken tension. Scott stayed by the railing, his stance casual but his eyes sharp as they flicked between me and Sam.

"Hi, Daisy, I'm Sam," she said, tilting her head slightly to get a better look at the girl.

"Yeah, I know," Daisy replied, her small, sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "We had classes together."

Sam smiled, though it looked a bit strained. "Sorry, I'm terrible with names and faces. I don't remember meeting you."

Daisy leaned into Emeth, who casually rested a massive hand over hers. "Well, I remember you. Hard to miss you, all dark and broody," Daisy said, her tone cutting in a way that made me glance at Sam.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed, and her lips tightened into a polite smile. I felt an unexpected surge of protectiveness rise in me. Why was Daisy being so harsh?

"It's not nice to say that, honey," Emeth said gently, tapping Daisy's hand.

Sam shifted uncomfortably but managed a smile as her gaze darted between them. "Wait, you're Poppy's sister, right?" she asked, suddenly looking at Scott for confirmation.

Daisy tossed her blonde hair over one shoulder, her lips curling into a smirk. "You know my sister, but not me?"

Scott's subtle shake of the head caught my attention, and I immediately picked up on the tension. Something was unsaid here, and I was so out of that loop.

Sam hesitated, her answer slow and deliberate. "Not really," she said, her tone cautious.

"Ray, that was an impressive set last week," Rory said, his voice a little too enthusiastic. "We should talk, I'm looking for collaborations."

Rory's sudden interjection caught me off guard. When did he even get here? I hadn't noticed him arrive. He leaned forward, his bleached-blond hair practically glowing in the neon light.

"Collaborations?" I asked, intrigued but wary.

"Yeah, I'm a DJ. You guys came to hear my set, right?" Rory said, flashing an easy grin.

Sam's brows knitted together as she turned to Scott. "You didn't mention Rory was performing."

Scott deflected smoothly. "I'll grab some shots," he said, disappearing down the stairs before anyone could question him further.

The tension in this group was palpable, they all seemed polite, but in a very fake way. Why did she agree to come here? I literally do not know any of them well enough, and this was not my type of scene, I would rather sit in a bar with live rock music than listen to the shit they were playing. I just wanted to spend time with her, and as I look at Samantha I think she feels out of her element too.

The group settled into casual conversation. Sam chatted with Daisy and Emeth, though the strain on her face lingered. Meanwhile, Rory leaned closer, launching into an enthusiastic pitch about his music ideas. I listened, nodding occasionally, but my mind drifted.

Every so often, my eyes found Sam. The way she sat, a soda in her hand instead of alcohol, her posture slightly tense she was holding something back. The awkward energy between us still lingered, and it gnawed at me. I wanted to reach out and touch her, hold her hand, maybe hug her waist but I felt like I couldn't. There were some boundaries she put up and I couldn't figure out where was the limit.

Scott returned with a tray of Kalashnikov shots, breaking the growing suspension in the group. Everyone reached for a drink except me—I stuck with soda. Driving meant I couldn't touch alcohol, but it wasn't just that. I didn't want to lose my clarity, especially not tonight.

As the others loosened up, laughing and chatting freely, I caught myself watching Sam again. She wasn't drinking much, just enough to be polite. She seemed out of her element, fidgeting with the beads of her bracelet. It was clear she knew these people but they were not friends, they were barely friendly.

After a few rounds of shots, Rory headed off to perform on the first floor. The dance floor, alive with energy, stretched out beneath a platform where the DJ booth commanded attention. Neon lights spun in hypnotic circles, while the heavy bass rattled through my chest. The faint smell of fumes hung in the air as the rest of us made our way downstairs.

Emeth and Daisy, practically glued together, disappeared into the crowd to dance. Scott lingered behind, nursing his drink, which left Samantha and me. I could tell she was nervous. The way her hands fidgeted with the bracelet again and her eyes darted around gave her away.

I wanted to see her let go, even just a little. We stepped into the chaos of the dance floor. Rory was already on the DJ platform, hyping up the crowd as cheers erupted. Fumes burst out from below the platform, swallowing the dancers in waves of gray mist. Neon lights pulsed in time with the music, flashing across Sam's face. She looked incredible—confident and unsure all at once.

I placed my hands on her waist, gently pulling her closer. Her hands slid up to rest on my shoulders, and she started moving her hips in time with the beat. The rhythm was fast and chaotic, but I slowed our pace, grounding us in a moment that felt intimate despite the noise and flashing lights around us.

Leaning in close, I brought my lips to her ear. "You okay? You seem tense." I wanted her to know she didn't have to be perfect, not for me.

She shivered at the sound of my voice, and I couldn't tell if it was the music or the closeness between us making her react like that. I hoped for the latter.

"I'm a terrible dancer," she admitted, her voice soft but clear over the pounding music.

I grinned. She was trying so hard, and I couldn't help but find it endearing. "What was that little head shake?" I asked, catching the subtle movement.

She hesitated, clearly searching for an answer. I could see the gears turning in her head as she worked out what to say.

"Scott's looking over here," she finally said, gesturing with a quick nod toward the ramp. "He seems angry. Or drunk."

I glanced over, catching Scott's glare aimed in our direction. It wasn't subtle. "Jealous, probably," I said with a small laugh. "The guy's been asking me all night how this happened—how we showed up together."

Samantha denied there were feelings between them, and I believe that was true from her side, but I also can see Scott was into her. I can't blame the guy, counting myself lucky.

Her brows furrowed slightly. "What did you tell him?"

I leaned in again, speaking low and close. "That we're friends now." I smiled against her ear. Her faint coconut smell made my head spin more than the shots ever could. I could make some sort of claims, make him back off maybe, but that seemed unfair considering this whole thing was very up in the air.

Sam pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, her expression cautious. "I'll tell him," she said firmly. "But there's nothing to tell right now."

I smirked at that. "If you say so." My lips brushed against the curve of her neck as I spoke, and I felt her body tense under my hands. The moment was electric. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, and for a second, it felt like the rest of the room disappeared.

I wanted to kiss her—badly. But I waited in anticipation, it has to be her choice this time. I can't be the only one to initiate intimacy or this—whatever this was, won't work.