Page 26 of Ambiguous
“No.”
I take a deep breath. “Okay, well. Let me know if there’s something I can do.”
After I gulp down a glass of water and heat up a meal in the microwave, I go back into the studio and lose myself in the work.
At the end of the day, I text my new favorite person.
Jules: I’m super happy
Jules: I sketched out a few more songs
Jules: You helped
My phone pings in response.
Sam: How did I do that? I mean, I’m glad if I did, of course.
I grin, and my heartbeat goes all wonky. Even without seeing the contact name, I would’ve known by the full sentences and punctuation that it’s from Sam. My hands fly over the phone.
Jules: I got inspired by you again
Specifically, by that accidental hand job. Not that I’ll tell anyone that’s what the song is really about.
And the other one about quiet and darkness, then suddenly motion and movement, accompanied by a tidy man in a bow tie.
Jules: A few more songs and I’ll go to the studio with the band
The little three dots keep showing, and I leave the studio, head up the stairs, and end up in my room, where I see the bow tie on my bedside table—this emblem of the man I have a schoolboy crush on. I flop on my bed.
A text comes through.
Sam: I’m glad you’re making progress.
Jules: It’s going so great
Jules: Want to come over after I get a few more songs done? In maybe two weeks?
Jules: You can check up on me and I can feed you dinner
Then I pause. What if the way Sam is with me is just an act? He seems adorable, but in reality he’s a prickly and sadistic sociopath?
Yeah, Jules. That seems likely.
Whatislikely is that in the real world, this charming man would never be arsed with the hassles of being with me. And me pursuing something with him is going to be painful.
Still, though. I can’t give him up. Iabsolutelywant to spend more time with Sam.
The pause before he answers kills me, because those three dots appear and then disappear. And then appear again. Finally, when my stomach is in knots and I’m wondering if I should text back and say I was only joking, I get:
Sam: Okay.
I laugh out loud. Really, Sam? Was that so hard?
Speaking of hard.
How many times since we met have I stroked off to memories of his tight arse and strong jawbone? His kissable lips.
Sam Stone has the softest-looking skin I’ve ever seen, and I want to lick him. That’s bad, right? I’m probably not supposed to lick my lawyer.
