Heart Bones

Samson immediately interrupts me. “You were fifteen the first time it happened, Beyah. Do not call that guy decent.”

The rest of my sentence gets stuck in my throat, so I swallow it.

“A decent guy would have offered you money with no return expectations. What he did was just…” Samson looks like he’s filled with disgust. I’m not sure if that’s aimed at Dakota or me. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “That day on the ferry when I handed you money…that’s why you thought…”

“Yeah,” I say quietly.

“You know that’s not what I was doing, right?”

I nod. “I know that now. But even knowing that…I still feared it when you kissed me. That’s why I came outside. I was scared you would look at me like Dakota did. I’d rather not be kissed at all than risk feeling that worthless again.”

“I kissed you because I like you.”

I wonder how true that is. Are his words accurate or convenient? Has he said them before? “You like Cadence, too?” I ask him. “And all the other girls you’ve made out with?”

I’m not trying to throw it in his face. I’m genuinely curious. What do people feel when they kiss other people as often as he does?

Samson doesn’t look like he takes offense to my question, but it does look like I’ve made him uncomfortable. His posture stiffens a bit. “I’m attracted to them. But it’s different with you. A different kind of attraction.”

“Better or worse?”

He thinks on this for a moment and settles on, “Scarier.”

I release a quick laugh. I probably shouldn’t take that as a compliment, but I do, because that means he’s getting a taste of my own fear when we’re together.

“Do you think the girls you’re with enjoy being with you?” I ask. “What are they getting out of it by just having a weekend fling?”

“The same thing I get from them.”

“Which is what?”

He’s definitely uncomfortable now. He sighs and leans over the railing again. “Did you not like it when we kissed earlier?”

“I did,” I say. “But I also didn’t.”

I find a comfort in his non-judgmental presence, and it’s confusing, because if I’m comfortable around him and I’m attracted to him, why did I start to panic when he was kissing me?

“Dakota took something you’re supposed to enjoy and he made you feel ashamed of it. It’s not like that for all girls. The girls I’ve been with—they enjoy it as much as I do. If they didn’t, I wouldn’t allow it to happen.”

“I enjoyed it a little bit,” I admit. “Just not the whole time. But that’s not your fault, obviously.”

“It isn’t yours, either,” he says. “And I won’t kiss you again. Not unless you ask me to.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t understand why that feels like both a punishment and a chivalrous gift.

He smiles gently. “Won’t kiss you, won’t hug you, won’t make you get back in the ocean.”

“My God, I’m just a ball of fun,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“You probably are. Hell, I might be, too. We just have too much piled on top of us to know what we’re like when we’re not under pressure.”

I nod in complete agreement. “Sara and Marcos are fun. But me and you? We’re just…depressing.”

Samson laughs. “Not depressing. We’re deep. There’s a difference.”

“If you say so.”

I don’t know how we possibly ended this night and this conversation with both of us smiling. But I’m afraid if I don’t walk away now, one of us will say something to ruin this moment. I back a step away from him. “See you tomorrow?”

His smile falters. “Yeah. Good night, Beyah.”

“Good night.”

I slip away from him, toward the stairs. Pepper Jack Cheese stands up and follows me down. When we reach the stilt level of my house, I spin around and look up at him. Samson hasn’t gone back inside yet. He’s leaning over the balcony, watching me. I walk backward a couple of feet, until I’m under the house and can’t see him anymore.

When he’s out of my line of sight, I stop walking and lean against a pillar. I close my eyes and run my hands down my face. There’s no way I can be around him all summer and not want to be consumed by him. But I also don’t want to be consumed by someone I’m just going to have to say goodbye to eventually.

I might feel invincible sometimes, but I’m not Wonder Woman.

Alana is awake and in the kitchen when I walk back into the house. She’s at the counter, leaning over a bowl of ice cream. She takes a spoon out of her mouth and smiles at me. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“What about Samson? Is he okay?”

I nod. “He’s fine. He said Dad doesn’t hit all that hard.”

Alana laughs. “I’m surprised your father hit him. I didn’t know he had it in him.” She points at her ice cream. “You want a bowl?”