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Chapter Fifteen

  Sam woke in the strange bedroom and looked around. He tried to remember where he was. The bed was comfortable, more comfortable than any he'd slept in in a long time, but he couldn't remember whose it was, or what he was doing here.

  Then it came back to him. Samantha.

  He turned and looked for her, but she was gone. Had this all really happened? Had it all just been a dream?

  He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and realized he was naked, lying on a mattress with no bedding. His clothes were strewn out on the floor. He was exhausted, but in a great way. He was a changed man. Man was the key word. He woke up feeling like a real man for the first time in his life. He never had a night like that before, and he already guessed that he never would again. She was incredible.

  Sam jumped to his feet, dressed, and walked around the empty house. He looked out the glass doors, and saw that the day was just breaking. That, too, was crazy. He hadn't seen the sun rising in he didn't know how long. In fact, it was rare for him to get up on any day before 12.

  He was hungry, and thirsty, but mostly just exhausted.

  "Samantha?" he called out, as he walked through the house, looking for her.

  He went from room to room, but couldn't find her anywhere. He started to wonder if it had all truly just been a figment of his imagination.

  He went to the living room and looked out the large picture window. There was his pickup truck, in the driveway. And there, behind it, was a shiny BMW. He wondered if it was hers. And why he hadn't seen it before. This chick was full of surprises.

  But he really didn't care about any of that. He didn't even care about having a place to crash. He realized he just liked being around her. The smell of her. The sound of her voice. The way she moved. And, of course, last night. It was unbelievable.

  But most of all, he'd really liked having someone to talk to. Someone who listened, who cared, who seemed to really get him. He was falling for this girl. He couldn't believe it, but he really was. And now, after all that, had she left?

  He opened the front door, and there she was. Samantha. She had been opening the door at the same time.

  "Hey," Sam said, trying to sound casual, but thrilled to see her. He felt his heart race just to see her again. She looked even prettier in the morning than she'd looked last night, her long red hair tussled over her face and her bright green eyes staring out at him. And so pale. He was pale, too - but she was paler than anyone he'd ever met.

  "Hey," she said casually. She seemed self-conscious, as if he had surprised her, just caught her in the middle of something.

  She brushed past him and walked into the house.

  He turned and walked after her, puzzled. He wondered if he had done something wrong. Or maybe if he wasn't good enough. If she wanted him to go.

  He started to feel self-conscious as he walked after her.

  He heard the sound of running water. She was standing over the sink, washing her hands and pouring water over her face. She was probably just waking up, maybe out for a morning walk.

  "You're up early," he said, smiling, as he watched her rinsing her face yet again.

  She rested, taking her time, then reached over and took a towel, and wiped her face. She brushed some of the hair out of her face, and took a deep breath.

  "Yeah," she said, exhaling, "morning jog. I'm an early riser. "

  "Without any shoes?" he asked.

  Samantha looked down and realized she was barefoot. She felt her face redden. This boy was perceptive.

  "It's better for the feet," she said, and quickly turned and walked into the other room.

  Surprised at her abrupt departure, Sam wondered if she were avoiding him. Maybe she'd changed her mind. He'd probably screwed it up somehow. Figured. Whenever he found something great, he always screwed it up.

  Sam followed her into the living room. He figured he needed to clear the air, talk to her.

  As he entered, she was pulling her long, red hair out of her face, tying it in a ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed, and seemed to be getting more filled with color, right in front of him. She must've had a really hard run, he thought.

  "Samantha," he began hesitantly, "last night was amazing. "

  She turned and looked at him, and her features softened a bit. She walked slowly to him, placed one hand on his cheek, and kissed him, slowly.

  Sam's heart welled up. She wasn't sick of him. He hadn't screwed it up. He started to fill with optimism again. He wanted her.

  But before he could embrace her, she backed away, went to the couch, and threw on her black leather coat.

  "I'm antsy," she reported. "Let's get out of here. " She looked at him. "Want to go for a drive?" she asked.

  "A drive?" he asked, looking at his watch. "So early?"

  "I hate sitting around," she said. "I want to get out of here. Let's get some fresh air. You game?" she asked, locking her green eyes right onto his.

  When her eyes met his, he felt his thoughts changing. Almost as if he were under a spell. He found himself suddenly liking her plan: it made all the sense in the world. She was right. Why stick around this house? It was boring. He suddenly really wanted to get out there out of there, too, and in fact, couldn't stand to be there another second.

  "Yeah, I do," he heard himself saying, "but where?"

  "Email your Dad," she said. "Tell him we're coming to visit. "

  Sam felt his brows lift in surprise. "My Dad? You mean, like, now?"

  "Why not? You guys wanted to get together. Now's as good a time as any. He's in Connecticut right? That'd be a nice drive. "

  Sam struggled to think. It all felt so sudden.

  "Well, like, I don't know if he'd be ready on, like, such short notice - "

  "Sam," she said, firmly, "he emails you a lot. He's dying to see you. Just email and ask him. And either way, let's just go. If he's not into it, at least we'll have a cool drive. "

  As he thought about it, he found his mind changing once again, and realized that she was entirely right. Of course. Why hadn't he thought of that? A long drive. Connecticut. E-mailing his Dad. Yes, it was perfect.

  He whipped out his cell, logged onto Facebook, and started typing: Dad. I want to come see you now. I'm actually heading out the door. A couple hours away. Please let me know your address. I hope it's not too short notice. Love, Sam.

  Sam shoved the phone into his pocket, then grabbed his keys and hurried to the front door. She was already waiting outside.

  As they crossed the lawn, heading for the BMW, Sam said, "I like your ride. "

  She smiled as she held up the keys.

  "Thanks," she said. "I've been saving a long time. "