Page 32 of The Tattered Gloves
“A girl who doesn’t want anyone to touch her because…”
“Okay… point taken,” I conceded. “But, seriously, there’s got to be another reason for her anger. Tell me another one — and make it good this time.”
Her eyes roamed around again and landed on a familiar face. “Sam. He’s a good one.”
I shook my head.
“What? You don’t want to know Sam’s history?”
“He’s my boss. It would be too weird.”
“It wasn’t weird when you yelled at him in the middle of the hallway.”
“Yeah, actually, that was totally weird. He didn’t talk to me for the entire shift… or the rest of the week.”
Her cheeks reddened. “Oh. Sorry about that.”
“I didn’t say I regretted it. It felt good to stick up for a friend, but if we’re being honest, I don’t really want to get between you two again.”
She nodded. “That’s fair. And I’m glad to hear you say that we’re friends.”
“I did let you talk me into this ridiculousness,” I told her, holding my hands out to serve as a reminder of where we were.
She instantly burst into laughter as we finished our sodas and dug into the rest of the chips.
A moment later, a boy I didn’t recognize approached our table, obvious nervousness written across his sweet face. “Allison, I was wondering if you’d like to dance?” he asked.
She looked to me, and I smiled.
“I’m going to step out for some air. You kids have fun,” I said with a wink.
She took his hand, and I watched him lead her out to the dance floor as a slow song began. Scoping out an exit, I quickly made my way toward the back, remembering Allison’s suggestion to head toward the halls for some peace and quiet.
After almost an hour of horrible, loud music, it was just what I needed.
A little peace and quiet.
Unfortunately, all I found was Sam.
AS SOON AS I saw the all-too familiar back of his head, I wanted to turn and make a run for it.
Not because of the scene I’d caused or the uncomfortable silence that was sure to follow.
I wanted to flee for the sheer fact that seeing him made me feel things.
Want things.
And that was something I was altogether not okay with.
Sam had a way of making me want to run and hide and never leave at the same time. Even though I knew he had most likely done some horrible, despicable thing to my friend… even though I’d heard gossip following him wherever he went, I couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach whenever I saw him.
When he was around, I felt like one of those girls back on the dance floor, gazing into the dopey eyes of a boy.
Completely besotted or some such crap.
It was disturbing.
Why him?
