Page 53 of Samuel's Heart

“Sit somewhere, and I’ll go buy our drinks,” I say, with a don’t-bother-arguing-with-me tone. It doesn’t matter anyway because I join the queue before he can protest. Maybe it’s the reason he didn’t protest, but I prefer thinking it’s because he secretly enjoys me taking care of him.

“Here’s your coffee,” I say, placing the big cup in front of him.

I sit, and enjoy him looking around for the sugar I’m still holding in my hand.

“Sugar?”

“Oh, do you take it with sugar?” I smirk, trying not to be too obvious, but he looks at me as if he knows what I’m up to. And true to that, he extends his hand, asking without words for the goods I’m hiding.

“Here you are.”

He snatches it from my hand and sends me a dirty look, and I laugh.

“Glad one of us is in a good mood,” he says, preparing his drink.

“I’m just glad you could find the person.” I stay silent for a bit, thinking how easy it’s becoming for me to hide the truth. I don’t want to be that person, so I take a deep breath, ready to say the things I need to, to put things right between us. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” he says, to stop me from finishing the sentence.

“You don’t even know what I want to say.”

“Yes, I do. We made a mistake the other night. And there’s no need to say sorry.”

The pang of pain in my chest surprises me and leaves me speechless.

Mistake? Was it?

It’s what I thought when I left, but only because I thought of John and what we had. But after that, was I still thinking about our night as a mistake? I don’t think so.

“Do you really think it was a mistake?”

His head shoots up to look at me, and his perusal of my face is looking for answers, his reply enough for me.

“Mmh, no.”

“You don’t seem so sure.” I poke him because I want a clear answer. If he thinks nothing can come from what we did that night, from our connection, then I need to know. I need to sever the connection now, so I don’t end up too involved in something that can only bring pain.

I’ve had enough pain to last a lifetime. After I say my goodbye to John, I plan to be happy. I want a life worth living, to make John—and myself—proud.

I’d like for Samuel to be part of it. In what capacity, I’m not so sure. I like him, and we have good chemistry, and there is more inside me, but I don’t want to acknowledge it, especially not right now.

“We’re not in a position to start anything.”

“Speak for yourself,” I say to him, pissed that he sounds so sure of how I’m thinking. He might be right, but I want to have a say in it.

“I really enjoyed our night together, but I’m not sure I’m ready for more than that.”

“Okay. I appreciate your honesty.” It hurts, because I thought something was flourishing between us, but we’re obviously not on the same page. I try not to let my face show what I’m thinking, and how disappointed I am. I’m not sure I do a good job because one of his hands comes to rest on top of mine.

“I think we both have situations that need to be resolved before we can even think of something serious happening between us.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” So, it’s not a no, it’s a ‘let’s work together.’

“Let’s find John first and then we can think about pursuing what’s between us.”

The smile returns to my face at the thought of an ‘us,’ and Sam’s desire to see where we’re going. I enjoy the weight of his hand on mine, and the sight of him brighter than before.

Now that we’re sitting so close together and touching, I can’t prevent my brain from replaying what happened that night. How caring he was, and how hard I came. His hands on me, his mouth on me . . . And now my erection is a tent in my pants, and I blush.

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