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Current Chapter Posted - Saturday, December 31, 2016

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{ Chapter 24 } : The secret to Beer Boy's scars 

   Moving forward was a big motion that required a lot of strength and courage – two qualities I'd grown into exponentially in the last days.

It had been three days since Nicholas's race. Meaning two nights since I'd been sleeping in Sam's bed. Just sleeping, like he promised.

We'd fallen into a routine, he and I. In the evenings, after our classes, we'd come home together (sometimes on his bike but mostly in my car) and no one questioned it. Layla and Gabby seemed to have caught on and his friends never breathed a word either. Mom had also been home in the last two days, in time for dinner, so we'd all have food together to conclude our nights. It was nice and new. Sam seemed to genuinely enjoy Michael's company and he even helped him out with his homework, which gave me enough leeway in my schedule to get my school work done.

Mom really liked Samuel – even considered him like the older son she could have had. She claimed that he helped around the house a lot, now that his stay at our house was getting extended. I certainly wasn't complaining. He helped with groceries (even though my mom insisted on paying, he never took the money), vacuumed the house and loaded the dishwasher with dirty dishes at the end of our meals.

Sam was embedding himself in our lives.

And I didn't seem to mind it one bit.

What truly had my heart melting, however, was yesterday evening, when I came down the stairs to fetch my little brother, only to be greeted by a sight for sore eyes. It was bath time for Michael, yet he was fast asleep, curved into Sam's side. His small body was molded to his perfectly sculpted protector one.

The TV was simply background noise. Sam casually had an arm slung around Michael, pressing him impossibly closer to him.

I was liquid matter upon seeing that. Ovaries. Exploded.

Sensing my presence, Sam raised his head and his eyes connected with mine. A deep tidal wave simmered, flowing freely between us, pulsing with electrifying energy. Waiting to rise. And then he smiled at me with the devilish bad boy grin I loved so much that...Forget ovaries exploding... My heart crushed with the weight of every shocking realization balancing upon it.

That same night, Sam held me close. I snuck into his room once mom went to bed. His arm draped over my waist. But I couldn't sleep.

His scent and close proximity messed with my head. Sam knew it. If the knowing glint in his eyes was any indication, then he damn well knew he affected me like no other guy.

We played twenty-one questions that night. Only to stop at eight.

"What's your favorite color?" he husked an easy one against my shoulder.

Goosebumps rose on my bare skin and I barely suppressed a shiver. "Pink." And white. Sometimes gold.

Sam hid his smile inside the crook of my neck, but I felt it on my skin, weaving a small, tiny, pattern that stayed deeply etched. When he chuckled, his body quivered and sent tiny little shockwaves through me where his lips laid latched on my neck. "Of course, Barbie. How ironic. The name is so fitting for you."

I scowled teasingly and kicked him playfully in bed. He seized my limbs, restraining me. "You're an a$swipe."

Sam rolled me underneath his warm body and propped himself on his elbows, smirking down at me. His eyes narrowed as dark amusement bled through those emerald orbs.

We gazed at one another through the current of emotions flickering in our eyes. My mouth quirked in a small grin and Sam's own lips formed that heart-pounding curve. I longed to trace it with my fingers.

I traced his tattoos last night. Only some. I also traced his scars last night. He loved it. Told me he did. Made a joke about how I was like his own personal sxxy nurse, trying to heal his wounds, one scar at a time. I told him he knew I liked caring for people. Taking care of them. He told me he'd need me a lot, since he was a whole lot reckless. Said he'd continue to be reckless so I could continue touching him. My reckless and mischievous Beer Boy.

Sam taunted me hotly. "She wears her nails pink, her lipsticks pink, and even her short dresses that fvck with my head pink."

I stretched like a lazy cat under his body before hooking a leg around his waist. "She's got lots of pink lingerie, too."

Sam's demeanor shifted into something darker and fiercer, until his chiseled jaw clenched. I bit my lip. He got the picture as I grazed his na-ked torso up and down with my roaming hands. It fvcked with his head, too. Good.

"Mm," he purred low in his throat when I brushed a sculpted pec. It transformed into a growl followed by a curse in Italian when I accidentally brushed his n*pple. "Does she?"

I loved this light and flirty side to us.

I pushed against him so my tank-top covered t*ts squashed against his glorious tatted chest. Since he loved the feeling so much. And I loved him bare-chested and clad in nothing but black silk boxers.

His breath hitched and I sucked in the sound with a shaky inhale.

"Want to see?" I whispered challengingly against his open mouth. This bad girl side only resurfaced at night when I was trapped in the lion's den, waiting to be preyed by my hungry predator.

He groaned razor-sharp. Samuel's forehead fell against mine and dug. "Fvck yeah," he hissed. "Show me what that tight bo-dy is wearing underneath those clothes."

Oh, God. That d&rty mouth of his. I blushed.

His green eyes drifted over my b0oty shorts and my two-size two small tube top. They were ablaze, like a match lit fire within those depths.

I ran a finger slowly - oh-so slowly - down his ridged stomach muscles until I reached his boxers. I tightened my legs around his waist. Next to his ear, I breathily whispered, "I don't have anything under-neath."

Sam exhaled roughly through his nose, his big bo-dy wracking rhythmically on t0p of me with each pa-nt. "Fvcking hell, Anna." Flopping onto his back carelessly, a few inches away from me. "You c*cktease. My c*cktease."

"Mmm. Am I?"

"Yeah," he said on a shuddering exhale. "Always fvcking with me."

God, I really wanted him to kiss me.

My hand lightly reached out. "Why are you so far away?"

Sam's eyes were fixed on his ceiling, those greens lighting up like a wildfire. Suddenly he craned his neck and looked me dead in the eyes. The fire spread through me until I pulsed. Every. Fiber. In. Me. Pulsed. That intense look seared through me and I knew that fifty years from now, this moment would forever be graved in my mind.

The image of him sprawled like a lazy sultan on his plush pillows, a sliver of light illuminating the rough shadow of stubble across his jaw, his rugged and sinfully inked body gleaming on display – It would never stray too far away from memory lane.

"If I don't stay away from you, I won't just be holding you tonight. That's a fvcking promise."

He eyes drooped sxxily and I felt a...something...I hadn't felt in a long time bxtween my legs.

"I thought you weren't good with promises," I uttered softly, my voice barely recognizable.

I wanted him to break some promises. God, I was dying for the feel of his lips against mine, but I'd be dammed if I kissed him first.

Sam's eyes caressingly drifted up my frame, and I could have sworn I felt his hands crossing every curve, every inch of my skin, every imperfection. But it was his eyes. Always his eyes. And tonight, they were worth a thousand words.

He extended his hand gently to rest it on my ribs. I could feel the heat burning through the thin material of my top. My tattoo. It was there. He didn't know. My chest expanded with my inhale and Sam propped himself up on one elbow, his knuckles grazing the length of my waist.

The back of one finger innocently grazed my n*pple I svcked in a breath. He released his. My lower lip trembled a little. He bit his. His eyes were brimming with anything other than innocence as the collided with mine.

The tidal wave had surged. "Sometimes, Anna, I try."

***

My sweet French latte burned the tips of my fingers as the brimming hot liquid swished over the rim of my tea cup. I hissed and put my fingers to my mouth.

"Anna." It was the voice's fault for startling me. Now two fingers were snapping in front of my face. "Earth to Anna."

I was yanked out of my reverie by the soft lulling sound of Marissa Wright's voice. I looked up at her, a little disoriented as I remembered where I was. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as a shit-eating grin plastered her lips.

"Oh – Sorry." I deposited my cup back on the saucer and examined the damage on my fingers. "What did you say?"

"You just disappeared on me for a few moments there," she teased lightly. "I was getting to the good part about Brice and I."

Oh. Yes. Brice. Her boyfriend. My smile was a little forced. "Sorry. I'm all ears now."

Marissa looked skeptical for two seconds, before narrowing her eyes and reclining back in her chair. She took her double-double with her. "Now hear this," she started again. "Brice does this amazing move with –"

...And she fell into a long monologue about her new boyfriend and their many sxxcapades.

I grinned at her, but my mind just wasn't there. I felt so guilty, but I couldn't help it.

This new moving on thing meant I was working past my old barriers and allowing my old memories – meaning the old people in my life – to resurface and make new memories.

Marissa Wright had been an incredible and trustworthy friend of mine, and I wanted her back in my life. Just like I wanted Nico back in my life.

Two hours ago, I'd channelled courage and gone through my contacts to see if I still had her number. When I texted her, she was happy that I'd taken the initiative to reach out.

I was so dammed relief when she'd said yes.

So I'd invited her to "Le Petit Moulin" – a little Parisian themed patisserie located not too far away from Danny's Grill. The ambiance was warm and cozy with a touch of wanderlust. The entire place was coated in pastel pinks, mauves and white marble. The unique smell created a false sense of heaven-on-earth. I loved it.

But the problem was I couldn't concentrate on my drink, my chocolate croissant, or Marissa's words.

My mind was, shamefully enough, thinking about Samuel Adams. I...missed him.

"You're doing it again, Jodanna," she said jokingly, with a hint of exasperation.

"Err, what?"

"Zoning out on me." She blew her caramel fringe out of her eyes. "Am I that boring? Wait. No. I'm fvcking amazing. I can't be boring." She gasped a little mockingly and leaned forward with her elbows on the table. "It's got to be a guy. Oh, my God."

I laughed and fvck me, I actually blushed. She was so spot on. It was a guy. One who'd been swirling around in my mind for the longest time. He just wouldn't leave. Samuel. Adams. Wouldn't. Leave.

"Oh, holy shit." Now she laughed. "I was so right. Okay. Let's cut the shit. You obviously have more important things on your mind, and mine and Brice's sex adventures just aren't cutting it for you. So tell me about you."

I cringed a little and ran my palm over my face, groaning. "God, I'm so sorry, Marissa. This was supposed to be your night."

She shook her head and her eyes were wistful. "No, Anna. This was supposed to be our night. We're here to catch up. Clearly something is bothering you. Let's talk about it."

Did I really want to talk about it? I felt strange discussing Sam and I to Marissa, especially since I hadn't told Gabby or Layla anything yet. Was I ready to talk about us? To acknowledge that there was an us? Saying it out loud felt like I was setting it in stone.

My mind spoke, Maybe it needs to be set in stone...

"Go on," Marissa's light eyes lit up some more, and she encouraged me in the way that only she could. "I'm listening. I'm here."

Despite the heat suffusing my cheeks, I was glad and thankful that she wanted to listen. Shit, maybe I did need to say this out loud. Maybe I did need to talk to someone about it. To clear up my confused mind and messed up heart. To get some real answers for myself.

There was no point in lying. Frankly, I liked Samuel Adams a lot. He liked me a lot, too.

"It's Sam," I blurted out. "It's Samuel Adams."

Her mouth gaped.

I swallowed.

She tried to say something.

I stopped her. "Marissa...It's just complicated. I'm sorry for unloading my crap on you. We don't even have to talk about it, I...Ugh. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore."

He's got me all tongue-tied. He's got me second guessing every rule in my book.

"I like him and he likes me," I rushed out quickly, then regretted it as her eyebrows shot up. Great, now my face was heating up excruciatingly. "And, like, I think, it's obvious there's sxxual tension between us. Actually, I know there's tension between us. Crackling. Melting. Sxxual Tension. Like, everyone notices it, and, oh, my God. I want his kiss. I want him to kiss me already. And shirtless, Marissa? He's a fvcking sight to see. He's so rugged, tatted in all the right places. So stubbly and so hot. So handsome. So..."

I caught myself before I said more.

Marissa was smiling warmly. Just like Sam, she wanted to hear more from me. "Anna, sweetie, this is really cute. Don't stop. Tell me everything."

My shoulders sagged and I smacked my head once against the table. My latte spilled a little bit. "I'm a mess. I don't know where to start."

She reached over the table and grabbed my hand. "Start from the beginning."

I took a deep breath and told her from the start. From the moment I purposely dropped my drink all over him to when he held me in his arms last night. We'd progressed so much in weeks. He meant...so much to me now.

"I understand why you're feeling confused," Marissa said. "You don't know where you stand right now and it's causing you to have mixed emotions."

I nodded. "Right. It's just I haven't heard from him the entire day, even though I texted him." I blushed at my own ridiculous admission. "I'm not those clingy girls, but I just had a bad feeling like he didn't want to face me this morning. I felt like he wasn't telling me something."

There was so much about Sam that I didn't know. I wanted to change that. I wanted to get to know him. I wanted him to get to know me like no one had ever. Not past boyfriends. Not Joey. Only Sam.

"These things, Anna-" Marissa murmured with a soft understanding, "-they take time. With your past being what it is, you need time to show others your colours. Who knows what kind of skeletons are hidden in that boy's closet. You're finally opening. Maybe you just need to give him time."

Her words ricocheted. She was right. A few weeks ago I wouldn't be this daring, trusting and warm girl. I'd been so isolated, so cold on the inside that I didn't know the meaning of being vulnerable in front of others. I was vulnerable in front of Sam. I was opening up.

And it was all okay.

"Time? Yeah, I can give him that."

* * *

Lately it seemed that my choice in attire was never a smart one.

Fall was right around the corner and the temperature had considerably dropped. Unless it was just one of those occasional fateful evenings in September where the air was particular strong and chilly. I was feeling a touch of cold in my ripped jeans, suede boots and army utility jacket. The thin layer of clothing did nothing to conceal the wind nipping at my skin.

My heart and emotions were in a turmoil over my Green-Eyed-Blond-Haired Giant. His looks and lone dimple torturously played in my mind, amidst the web of memories.

The fact that Sam still hadn't answered me tugged at my nerves. There was something he wasn't telling me – something pressing that he was guarding – and the feeling was causing my stomach to dip. I wanted to unveil it, dammit, but he wasn't answering me and I felt helpless.

He kissed my cheek this morning, thinking that I was still asleep in his bed. He thought I didn't know. I was awake. I stayed sprawled in Sam's room when he came back from his shower, with nothing but a small towel hanging low on his hips, giving me a delicious view of that muscled V... But he ignored me. Something in his demeanor shifted when my sleepy gaze connected with his and I smiled. Almost as if he was anxious. He didn't meet my gaze. Barely spoke words. Feeling awkward, I crawled out of his bed and went to my own bedroom. He didn't wait for me to see if I wanted a lift with him. Simply left without a word.

Did...he regret everything he said in the past? Did I do something wrong? Did he hear rumours about me...about my past, about the girl I'd been? Something he didn't like amongst them?

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

This feeling simmering in my chest. I'd felt it once. I'd felt it once two years ago when I thought I was falling for a boy. Only this time, it was tenfold times more intensified and I felt as though it would consume me completely.

My ground was split wide open and I was falling. I'd shattered once during my free fall a long time ago. I prayed this time Samuel Adams caught me before I went crashing far beyond reach.

Every raging thought bothered me. But, above all, what bothered me wasn't the fact that I drove to school alone after getting used to his presence. No. It was the nagging sixth sense telling me that right now, in this moment, something was happening and my...my...Beer Boy was not okay.

I was walking it off. One of my therapist had once told me that anytime I felt clustered with thoughts – no matter their nature – and suffocated with stuffiness, walk it off.

It would help ease the knots tying my stomach together.

Control had long since been spiralling out of my grasps and I felt so helpless, not knowing when I'd meet the ground. If I would even stay intact after that contact. If someone would even be there to break my fall.

I wasn't sure of anything.

What I was sure of, however, was that this sensation wouldn't escape me no matter how much I walked it off. After Marissa left Le Petit Moulin, I'd taken myself out for a stroll, a few blocks past where my car was parked.

Twenty minutes later and I resigned to my fate. I wouldn't find out where Sam was and why he was avoiding me.

The sun was setting and the sky was painting itself in dark purple and blue hues. A delicate moon shone through the clear evening sky.

Fredview strip was buzzing with local tourists. The outdoor festival themed activities were crowded. There was even a line to get into Danny's Grill.

Two teenage girls giggled as they passed by me. "Did you hear about the match? I hear he's fighting today."

I kept walking to my destination. With every step, it seemed like the street was being drowned of its life. The atmosphere got sombre until there was only a handful of people left. My car wasn't far. Since Le Petit