Page 19 of Something Good
A wave of guilt washed over me. But I couldn’t get into this right now. Not while I was still standing in the bathroom of Sammy’s house with him asleep in the next room.
Talk later?
He sent a thumbs-up emoji, and I put my phone back in my pocket while debating my options. Could I sneak out and head home? I wasn’t sure where my keys or shoes were, but maybe I could find them without waking Sammy and slip out the front. This was already awkward enough. We didn’t need to make it worse with words.
But when I quietly slipped back into his room, I pulled up short at the sight of Sammy sitting up in bed, chest bare, with his usual riot of blond curls framing his face. For the rest of my life, I thought I’d remember the way he looked in that moment with his hair sleep-tousled and his lean chest exposed to the morning sun.
I wanted to trace every one of his muscles with my tongue, though I paused that line of thought as I noticed the edges of his ribcage were more prominent than was healthy. I wondered if he got enough to eat.
“Enjoying the view?” Sammy asked, and my eyes flew up to meet his. I hadn’t realized I’d been staring. Heat rose up mycheeks, but I ignored it, instead moving to sit on Jimmy’s bed across from him.
“How did I get here?” I asked, hoping he’d fill in some of the blanks in my fuzzy memory.
“I drove you. Nice ride, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t know what to say next. I wanted to know why I’d woken up in his bed. Why he’d slept there with me. Why he’d brought me here instead of taking me home. But I was afraid of the answers, so I stayed silent.
“You were pretty lit last night. You always drink like that?” Sammy asked.
“No. Not like that. I mean, it wasn’t my first time drinking, but I don’t usually let it get that far out of hand.” Finally, a few flashes of the night before fluttered through my brain. Laughing with Jason and the guys. Spotting Sammy on the other side of the bonfire. Stumbling into the woods. Sammy’s face inches from mine. I remembered wanting to kiss him, but had we?
“Did you…? Did we…?” I gestured vaguely between us, not sure how to ask the question.
“You don’t remember?” There was a smirk on his face, and I couldn’t tell if he was fucking with me.
“I remember some things,” I responded vaguely.
“Like…?”
I lifted my chin, frustrated with the game but not wanting to let it show. “You tell me.”
He chuckled as if my life was just one big joke. “Relax, dude. Nothing happened. I don’t fuck with guys when they’re obliterated. I’m not that much of a dick.”
An odd mixture of relief and disappointment coursed through me. “Thanks.”
“Not that you didn’t want it though. You kept trying to put your dick in my hand when I was trying to fish your keys out of your pocket.”
“What? I thought I gave my keys to Jason.”
“You did, but I didn’t know that at first, so when I went through your pockets trying to find your keys, you tried to hump my leg like a poorly-trained puppy. It was hysterical even if it was fucking annoying.”
“I’m glad I could entertain you,” I said dryly. I swiped my hand through my hair, suddenly very, very tired. I wanted to go home and sleep the rest of the day away in my own bed. Maybe then I could get rid of this pounding in my skull.
I looked around the room, trying to lay eyes on my keys. Or my shoes. “Listen, I appreciate you taking care of me or whatever last night, but I’d really like to go home. Can I have my keys?”
“Ah, so that’s the thanks I get? I bring you home last night, but at the first light of day, you’re ready to run?” He’d leaned over so he was propped on his side with his elbow underneath him, the sheets pooled around his waist, and his eyebrows lifted in challenge. Why did it feel like everything was a game with him?
“Jesus, Sammy. I’m not running. My head fucking hurts and I want to go home. You don’t even like me.” My words sparked another flash of memory. The inside of my Jeep. Sammy leaning on the open door. I’d puked in the doorway, but before I got out of the car. I’d asked him why he’d helped me when he clearly hated me.
For a moment, he’d dropped the mask of indifference, and there’d been a look in his eye that I couldn’t identify. He probably thought I’d forgotten that conversation, but I hadn’t. And now, I wanted the answer to my question. “Why’d you help me last night?”
It was his turn to look away, to avoid my scrutiny, but I didn’t back down. It felt like he always had the upper hand when our paths crossed, and I wanted to press my advantage. “You act likeyou hate me, tell me to stay away from you, avoid me, but then you show up at that bonfire, follow me into the woods…” I let out a humorless chuckle. “You’re the one who kissed me last week. And yesterday, you told me you jacked off thinking about it.”
I stood, placing my knee on the bed and pushing into his space with a confidence I didn’t quite feel. But I was committed now. I had a suspicion, and I wanted to know if I was right. “You don’t hate me at all, do you? You want me.”
He looked up at me, defiance etched into his jawline, but his eyes gave him away. For a moment, and another, I saw the boy I once knew in those chocolate-brown eyes. The one I’d played video games with and who’d stayed over for sleepovers. The boy I’d spent hours hiking with in the forest and camping out under the stars in my tiny backyard. We’d walk home from school together and ride our bikes for hours in the summer, wading into the creek and splashing each other, then lying on the bank so our clothes could bake in the sun.
He placed his hands on my chest, curling his fingers into the fabric of my sleep-rumpled T-shirt, but I couldn’t tell if he was going to pull me closer or push me away. I held my breath, waiting for him to say something, to make a move, anything.
