When her softness presses against my chest, I can’t help the way my body responds. I’m more worried than turned on, but Sam just…does things to me. I can’t help it. Still, it’s embarrassing, and I’m glad the table is hiding the situation.
I want to make Sam feel better, not let her know what a hopeless horn dog I am.
“I’m so glad you’re finally here,” she says, sniffing. “I’ve felt like I’m all alone.”
“I’m here,” I say. “And I get to stay for at least a week.”
Sam pulls in a shuddery breath. “Let’s not talk about it. I can’t think about you moving away, or I’m going to completely freak out.”
“Okay,” I say, kicking myself for being such an idiot. “You want to talk about what’s up with your mom and dad?”
Sam pulls back, swiping at her damp eyes with the backs of her hands. “You mean, the fact that my dad is moving in with some rich lady old enough to be his mother?”
I pull a face. “Wow. You didn’t tell me that before.”
“I know,” she says, running a hand through her hair, making it stick up even more in the front, where her curls are tightest. “I just found out today when Penelope came by to help Dad move his things. She had a bunch of makeup on, and this tight dress, but it was obvious she was older, so I asked Dad about it, and he said she’s fifty-two. He’s only forty-two!”
“That’s ten years, Sam,” I say, lifting a brow. “That’s not old enough to be his mom.”
“Don’t play the No Bullshit game right now, Danny.” Sam narrows her eyes at me, but I can tell she’s not really mad. “I get to be full of bullshit, because my dad is moving in with an old rich lady, my mom is crying all the time, and my little brother locked himself in his room and won’t come out. If I hadn’t been throwing peanut butter sandwiches through Erick’s window, he probably would have starved to death by now. Even Hana is depressed. She hasn’t chewed any shoes for a week, even when I got Dad’s favorite sandals out of the closet and gave them to her.”
“Revenge by puppy,” I say. “That would have been pretty sweet.”
Sam shrugs, but her lips curve. “Yeah, well. I’m sure I’ll think of other ways to make Dad suffer. I tried smoking a cigarette I bummed from Devin at the skate park in front of him today, but it tasted so gross I almost choked to death, so…”
I laugh. I can’t help it.
“Shut up,” she says, nudging me in the ribs. “I’m a very badass person. Respect my badassery.”
I put my arm around her, so glad she’s close enough to touch. “I respect your badassery so much that I’m buying dinner. What do you want?”
“The usual,” she says, leaning into me, making my chest feel tight and things lower in my body threaten to start acting up again. “But let’s take it down to the beach. I don’t want to be around other people.”
“Sounds good,” I say, jumping up from my chair before I can embarrass myself again.
I place our order and they have it ready at the counter a few minutes later. Sam and I take our bags of calamari, fried shrimp, and three orders of French fries to the park down the street, stopping to give the homeless guys by the trash cans one of our orders of fries, because Sam can’t stand for people to go hungry, and I know what it’s like to go to bed without supper.
We settle in on the grass next to the beach and watch the waves do their best to kick the sand’s ass while we eat. We talk some, but mostly we’re quiet, the comfortable kind of quiet that happens when you’re with someone you know you can be yourself with.
We finish eating, take a long walk, and throw chunks of dead coral into the waves for a while, but eventually the sun starts to set, and I know I should start heading toward Bjorn and Sherry’s. I’m about to tell Sam I should walk her home, when she turns to me and says—
“Let’s run away. Just you and me.”
I take a deep breath, trying to think of the best, smartest thing to say. Sam’s usually more level-headed than I am, but she’s in a bad place. I need to step up, and take my turn being the responsible one. “We can’t. We don’t have any money, and—”
“Yes we do,” Sam says, a pleading look in her eyes that makes me afraid she’s serious about this. “I’ve got five hundred dollars saved up. We could get flights to Oahu, work odd jobs until we save up some money, and then find someone to make us fake IDs. And as soon as we’re fake eighteen, we can get real jobs, and an apartment and—”
“Sam, I—”
“Please, Danny,” she says, sounding like she might start crying. “Don’t make me go home. I hate it there. I feel like I’ll die if I have to go back there and try to find a way to make Mom stop crying, and go visit Dad and his new family on the weekends. It will suck so hard, and I won’t even have seeing you to look forward to.”
“We can talk every day,” I promise. “I’ll call all the time.”
“From Croatia?” she asks, doubt in her clear blue eyes.
“Yes. I swear.” I take her hand and squeeze it tight. “Caitlin’s boyfriend is crazy rich. I’m sure he’ll let me make international calls, and even if he doesn’t, I’ll find a way to pay for calling cards. I know how to make my own money and I…”
I pull in a breath and force the hard words out. “I don’t want you to forget about me.”
“Then come with me to Oahu,” she says, though I can tell she’s losing faith in the plan. “We could make it work. I know we could.”
“Or not,” I say, pulling her up the beach as a big wave crashes into the shore and the water rushes toward our place on the sand. “And then we’d end up like those guys we give French fries, except we wouldn’t be two stinky dudes with gnarly feet. We’d be a scrawny kid, and a pretty girl, and…bad things happen to pretty girls when all they have is a scrawny kid to protect them.”
“I’m tough, Danny,” Sam argues. “You know that. And you’re not scrawny. You’re all muscle.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I shrug like it doesn’t matter, but part of me loves the fact that Sam sees my muscles, not the fact that I’m underweight for my height, no matter how much I eat. “But I’m not as big as a grown man, and I might not be able to protect you, no matter how hard I’d try. And that would scare the shit out of me,” I confess, though I don’t like copping to being afraid. “I don’t care what happens to me, but I don’t want to think about you getting hurt.”
Sam’s eyes soften and start to shine again, but she doesn’t cry. She just squeezes my hand and studies me, while I study her.
We stand there, staring at each other, not saying a word, for what feels like forever. Our lips don’t move, but I swear we have an entire conversation in the way we squeeze fingers and watch each other’s faces turn gold in the sunset. It’s an intense moment I know I’ll never forget, and by the time she leans in to kiss me, I’m even more in love than I was before.
The kiss is a little sexier than our first kiss—there is a hint of tongue, and I manage to slip my free hand into Sam’s hair—but it’s sweeter, too.