Page 52 of The Backtrack
Alt-Sam shrugged, slightly brightening under Farrah’s gaze. “Yeah, let’s celebrate.”
Damon seemed to finally exhale at the change, like he’d been holding his breath to see what she’d do before he decided how to proceed. He opened the flask and sipped.
“What do you think?” Farrah looked at him expectantly.
“Not bad.” He took another sip. “Are you still entering the local brews competition?”
“Well, Ithoughtwe’d be entering together. But now that you’re deep in nesting mode, I’m not sure.”
Hmm. That was interesting. So Farrah was striking out on her own, and Damon wasn’t involved in the brewery at all?
“I keep telling him to work with you.” Alt-Sam sipped from the flask and crossed her arms. “He faints at the sight of blood.”
Damon shot her a hurt look, but Alt-Sam tipped the flask up and downed the rest of it.
“You know I never liked school. I’m not smart, like you,” Damon said. “And we need the money, remember?”
Alt-Sam dug her toes into the sand. “I can save for the surgery by myself.”
“Wow, you both are clearly in the middle ofsomething.” Farrah playfully rolled her eyes at them. “When you’re done with whatever this is, come over. I’ve got real bottles we can drink. Congrats, Damon.”
Farrah gave Damon a kiss on the cheek, and he watched her leave. When she was out of sight, he turned to Alt-Sam.
Alt-Sam spoke before he could. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Then let’s not,” Damon gently said. He wrapped Alt-Sam in his arms. “I’m sorry, Sam-Sam. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m sad, too.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to talk about that.” Alt-Sam didn’t meet his eyes. “And I’m sorry I’ve been...moody, lately. I’ve just been dealing with a lot.”
“I know,” he gently said.
“I have something for you.” Alt-Sam reached into the top of her halter and pulled two tickets out from her bra.
Classy.
“Ta-da!” Alt-Sam said with a smile.
Damon took the tickets. “You got—you got us Blink-182 tickets?”
Alt-Sam’s smile widened. “Had to get them from a guy off Craigslist. I knew you wanted to see them. A first-day gift—and, not to get you even more stoked, but I heard they’re bringing on The All-American Rejects, Asher Roth and Fall Out Boy, too.”
A small frown creased Damon’s face. “Can we afford this?”
Alt-Sam scratched a spot on her leg. “I dipped into my flight school fund. I think we need some fun.”
“Sam,” Damon started to say.
“By the time I get the surgery and recover from that, I’ll have saved up enough again.” Alt-Sam waved off his concern. “Don’t worry, I thought this through.”
“But the concert’s tonight in Atlanta...”
“Oh, right, that.” Alt-Sam put her hands on her hips and dramatically tapped her foot. Then she pulled out a BlackBerry cell phone covered in stickers and charms. “It’s the weirdest thing, but I gassed up the car, got a bunch of terrible junk food for the drive—including those awful beef jerky sticks you love—and if we leave now we should make it in time.”
Damon gave her a close-lipped smile, like he was fighting back a grin so wide it would hurt his face. “I love you,” he said.
“But you’re gonna love me even more when you hear ‘What’s My Age Again?’ live.” Alt-Sam smiled.
“I might black out if they play ‘All the Small Things.’” Damon smiled back.
