Page 46 of The Tattered Gloves
I DIDN’T TALK to Sam for the rest of the week.
We went back to working side by side in heavy silence. I helped with customers and kept the store neat and tidy while he wallowed in the back with his head buried in a notebook.
The remainder of our project was completed by email. I sent him information on my family and vice versa. It was enough to write what was needed to pass, but as I sat in front of Addy’s old laptop, looking over the first part of my notes, remembering the conversations we’d had, a part of me — okay… a huge part of me — missed him.
I was still mad at him for how he’d acted that day in the stockroom. I’d never known Sam to be spiteful just for the fun of it. That could only mean, something deeper was going on in his life.
But what?
I wish I knew, but my heart hurt from the whiplash he’d caused, and my wounds from our last encounter were still healing. I told myself I needed a break, but even I knew I was telling myself a lie. Because I knew that boy had the power to destroy my heart with one swift strike, and I wasn’t certain I would be strong enough to recover.
So, I took the easy road out and ignored the issue. It wasn’t brave, and it wasn’t heroic, but it saved the one thing I needed to protect more than anything.
Myself.
Besides, I had a host of other issues to deal with — like finishing a term project about a guy who didn’t want to talk to me and dealing with a best friend who might or might not be first in line to have her heart crushed.
Again.
The more and more I watched her, the more I started to agree with Sam.
I hated to admit it, but he was right. Eddie What’s-His-Face seemed to have no interest whatsoever in Allison, and it only seemed to infatuate her more.
After that, it didn’t take long for me to put the pieces together on what had driven a wedge between Sam and Allison not so long ago. But, with Thanksgiving break soon approaching, I was short on ideas on how to fix it, and I was hoping some time apart would help clear my head.
And hers.
So, as I sat down to work on a project that was supposed to bring classmates together, I convinced myself I was doing the right thing by avoiding Sam and the drama he brought to my life.
Because, so far, Sam had brought me nothing but confusion, sadness, and pain.
And I’d had enough of that for one lifetime.
I WORKED FEVERISHLY on my report right up until the very end. Walking into History class on the last day before Thanksgiving break felt like I was at the end of a twenty-six-mile marathon.
I was exhausted.
As I glanced around the classroom, I realized I wasn’t the only one. Many red-eyed, tired gazes met mine, including one familiar face.
“Did you have enough information?” Sam asked, his arms neatly folded across his chest.
“Um, yes. And you?” I asked, anxiously biting my bottom lip.
I caught his gaze drifting downward toward my mouth before he suddenly snapped out of it and stood upright.
“I made it through, thanks. Anyway, have a good break.”
“You, too,” I replied, but it was useless. He was already headed back to his seat.
The bell rang as I watched him settle in, speaking to several people around him. He wasn’t nearly as short, but I could still see it — the distance he put between himself and everyone else.
Whatever had been going on with him the day he snapped at me in the bookstore, it was still happening.
If there was one thing I could recognize, it was a person being dragged down by their own baggage. And, from the looks of it, Sam was about to take a nosedive into the pavement from the weight of his.
“IT’S JUST THE two of us, right?” I asked, beginning to feel a little nervous, as I watched Addy flutter about the kitchen like a tiny bird.
The idea of a random stranger entering my inner sanctum was a scary thought. I’d grown used to putting myself out there when I was at school. I’d even grown accustomed to talking to complete strangers at Page Turners when necessary.
