Page 110 of Easy Steal

He looked over his shoulder at Rome who was still staring daggers at him.

“Can you not?”

She shook her head.

“Rome,” he groaned, “gohome.”

“It’s okay, Ro,” I sighed. “I’ll call you later.”

“Fine,” she said, grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ll see you later, Liv.”

“Bye, Rome,” Sam called as she stepped outside.

“Fuck off, Sammy,” she said behind the closed door.

He chuckled and looked down to his shoes.

I turned and wandered to the kitchen, not being able to handle the awkward silence. I filled the kettle, put it on, and watched it bubble.

“You never came to see me afterwards,” he said, leaning against the kitchen bench.

“You were fine,” I shrugged. “Plus, Larissa was there to keep you company.”

“I didn’t want Larissa.”

I chuckled, “does she know that?”

“She does now.”

I looked up at him for the first time.

“Look, Liv,” he said, moving closer. “I’ve been such a fucking asshole. I know that. I’m sorry that it’s taken me this long to realise. I’m sorry that I’ve been so fucking blind. But Larissa is not who I want.”

He gently placed a hand on my hip, and I pulled away, busying myself by making the tea.

“I’m not interested in being your second choice, Sam.”

“That’s the thing though,” he said, closing the space between us again, “you’re not. My biggest regret is making you feel that way. I’m just-” he sighed, “I’m not great at reading people, or-or situations. I’m not even great at knowing what I think or feel. I’m even worse at saying the words out loud.”

I picked up the kettle and went to pour the hot water into the mug, but Sam put his hand over the top of it, sliding it towards him. Hot water spilled onto the bench, and I put the kettle down with a sigh, moving to the other side of the kitchen and looking in the bottom drawer for a towel.

“Livie,” Sammy said. “Liv, are you listening to what I’m trying to say?”

I didn’t respond, and busied myself with wiping up the water on the bench and down the front of the cupboards.

“Liv!” Sammy shouted, leaning down to meet me and grabbing my wrist, stopping me from mopping up the mess.

“What, Sam?” I snapped. “What do you want me to say? Larissa wasn’t all she was cracked up to be, and you show up on my doorstep. For what? What is it that you are trying to say that is so god-damn important?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I understand music now! Okay?”

I looked up at him and frowned. He shook his head, raking his hands through his hair.

“Ever since I met you, I get it. I get the love movies, I get the love songs. It never made any fucking sense until you came along.”

He snatched the towel from my hands, met my eyes for a second, and looked down with a sigh as he started to wipe up the mess on the floor.

“I’m trying to tell you that it’s you that I want,” he said softly, staring down at the tiles.

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