A woman I was supposed to accept. Care about. Eventually love.
It was all so goddamn bizarre.
And yet… at the same time? She was almost too perfect. Beautiful beyond what we could’ve expected, but mature and intelligent also. And sassy. I liked that. Sammara seemed the type of woman who gave back as good as she got it. Which had me wondering what she’d give back if I gave her acceptance and attention, and ultimately if things went right?
Yes, even love.
The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea she was taking charge. I didn’t mind her taking over the contractor. I didn’t even mind her taking over the coffee. It was a few less things for us to worry about, in a world where the four of us were constantly being taken away in the middle of whatever we might be doing.
No, having Sammara around could be a good thing. A very good thing.
If only you’ll let it…
I took the rest of my coffee upstairs, to leave her in peace. Our little interaction had been productive, and I wanted to leave it that way. Besides, she had a list to make, I had a shower to take, and God knows what else would happen between now and our dinner date.
Sixteen
SAMMARA
I wanted to drive. Mostly because, as usual, I wanted to be in control.
This night though, I’d let Ryan take over.
Yes it would’ve felt good, thundering my jeep along the highway. Getting lost in the glow of the running lights, feeling the late summer wind on my face as we zoomed back and forth from the old Victorian mansion.
Right now though, we were on Ryan’s motorcycle. My arms were like two steel cables, wrapped tightly around his waist as we zipped through the streets and alleys of the inner city.
I was terrified of course, though I was trying not to show it. When he’d asked if I’d ever been on a ‘bike’ before I’d foolishly nodded. It was a bald-faced lie. A lie Ryan probably realized the first time we took a turn and I dug my fingers so hard through his leather jacket they ended up clawing his ribs.
In time I grew more comfortable, especially on the straightaways. With my thighs pressed tightly against him and the big engine thrumming beneath me? The ride became an almost sexual experience. Erotic in its own special way.
I tapped his shoulder indicating we were finally here, the place I was taking us on our first date. I got off on two trembling legs that felt jellied, my ponytail popping out as I removed my helmet. Ryan took it from me and fixed it to the big leather seat, right alongside his own. In a way the image was romantic. A visual I quickly tucked away, to keep safe for another time.
I took his hand and pulled him along the sidewalk, to stand before the little restaurant. The place I’d chosen was my absolute favorite. I’d been going there since I were a little girl, all the way back since before…
…and after.
“Pizza?”
It was the first time I’d heard him actually laugh. Ryan rubbed at his black goatee and squinted up at the broken neon sign, like an old gunfighter sizing up his opponent.
“I thought you said you were bringing the piggy bank?”
“I did,” I replied smartly. “I didn’t exactly say it was full, did I?”
Five minutes later we were seated in a smooth laminate booth, waiting for our slices to cool. Ryan sprinkled his with crushed pepper first, then strangely, salted both our slices.
“You’re getting me back for the coffee, aren’t you?”
“Smoother,” he said with the hint of a smile. “Less bitter.”
“Riiight.”
We ate in relative silence for a minute or two as I took the place in. I hadn’t been there in a year or more, and I couldn’t put my finger on why. The place was nostalgic for me of course, but in all good ways. Every time I came here, it was like coming home.
“My parents used to take me here when I was young,” I said. “They always told me they had the best pies, but I was too little to know good pizza from bad.”
Ryan chewed his way toward the crust, staring up at me impassively. His eyes were warm, the color of cappuccino. But his expression was still hard.