I’ve already got my lamp off and eyes closed when she returns from the bathroom. Despite sleep crying my name, I fight my eyes open to get a glimpse of her. And wish I hadn’t.
She’s in her too-short girl boxer things that I can just see beneath her tee. There’s nothing sensual about her night clothes, or there shouldn’t be. But she makes the simplest outfit look sexy as hell.
Running a hand down my face, I exhale. “Night, Sam,” I say as she slides in under her covers.
She lays facing me, her hair spread over the pillow. Her hand curled in front of her mouth. “Night, Holden. Sweet dreams.”
Her voice is so soft, and her words pierce my heart. If she ever discovers what demons haunt my dreams, she’d know just how much I craved sweet ones. With a deep breath, I inhale some of her sweet scent and commit to memory her beautiful face before I roll over and close my eyes, hoping it helps keep the nightmares at bay.
One of the reasons I have a “bed thing” is my dreams. Being comfortable, for whatever reason, means less nightmares. Less vivid ones, at least. I have to admit, despite the lumpy hotel bed, I didn’t wake once. And I’m refreshed and feel like we might actually complete this trip without falling apart.
Or, we might just be entering the eye of the storm.
Sam’s good at sweeping stuff under the rug. Every time we’ve fought, had to face an issue, she’s been the one to call the shots and chose to let it drop. Move on. Not deal with it. And really, for most guys, a girl like that is ideal.
But in Sam’s case, it’s not good. One day, the top is going to blow.
I’m not sure if I want that day to be during our trip or not. I’d rather it be when she’s close to home, feels safe. Protected. Then again, I’m about ready to have it out and force us to work through our shit. In the end, we’ll either be friends, or she’ll decide she’s done with me altogether.
These thoughts churn a hole in my brain as I sip my Starbucks on a bench in Central Riverside Park. We decided to have an easy, laidback day until we’re to meet up with Biker Melody and her people for the show.
Sam’s sitting in the grass near a pond, sketchpad on her lap. The mid-morning sunlight sets off the blue highlights in her black hair, and she looks so at peace, so beautiful, I have the sudden need to draw her.
I haven’t drawn anything on this trip. Which is odd for me. I’m always doodling or sketching anything that catches my eye. But I’ve been so wrapped up in Sam, in whatever is going on with her, me, us—that I just haven’t. And maybe that’s part of my problem. Drawing is my outlet, and I’ve been keeping everything locked up on the inside for days.
Pushing off the bench, I think it’s what I want more than anything. Well, almost. But right now, it’s more than a necessity. Like breathing.
As I settle down next to Sam, I peek at her drawing. Shades of black and gray blend into a landscape of the park and pond.
“You wanna share your supplies?” I ask her.
She mock sighs. “I’m usually pretty stingy”—she blocks the sun from her face with her hand as she glances at me—“but I’ll make an exception. For you.” She rummages through her pack and pulls out another pad and a container of charcoal, pencils, and paints. “Use whatever.”
“All right.” I choose a pencil, only because I don’t feel like having smudged up fingers. “You know, they make holders.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” she says, looking back at her sketch. “I don’t mind getting a little messy. It’s worth it to capture just what I want.” She looks up and smiles, almost to herself. “I’d always wanted my own studio, and used to picture myself covered in paint from working all day.”
The vigor in her words floods me with so much want for this girl. I suppress my need to touch her, and instead grip my pencil tighter. My thoughts drift back to the old oak, remembering her smudged cheek. Although it was a turbulent moment, I couldn’t help my pulse slamming against my veins as I wiped the mark from her face. Even at her worst, Sam i
s gorgeous, passionate. And the need to touch her thrums through me. All the time.
Her words suddenly hit me, and I look at her. “Used to? You don’t want your own studio anymore?”
She shrugs, but it’s jittery. “Maybe one day.”
Letting the subject drop, because I don’t want to push her, we fall into companionable silence as we draw. Her with her landscape, me with the new design I’d been working on right before I left Atlanta. And it feels right. Despite the immense fuckupery that is this trip, it’s like when we were kids, and we could draw together without the need to talk. It’s easy and just . . . right.
I flip the page in my pad and start a new drawing.
“Can I ask you a question?” Sam says, and my hand stills. My breath stops in my chest.
“Of course. Though, technically, you just did,” I say, hoping to break some of the tension her words created. But I’m sure she can hear the hesitancy in my voice.
She’s facing me now, her legs crossed, and she sits back on her palms. Completely stoic in spite of my lame attempt. “I don’t want to fight or argue, or anything. But I’ve been thinking.” She pauses, and I force myself to hold her gaze, even as panic grips me. “What’s your reasoning? I mean, why are you completely convinced Tyler isn’t here? You believe it without a doubt.” She tilts her head. “I guess I want to know why you don’t question that it could be possible.”
Mirroring her position, I flip my pad closed and lean back on my hands. It’s a fair question. I asked her to think about the possibility of my brother only being in her mind, and it makes sense for her to turn the tables on me. Before I answer, I think long and hard, instead of just spitting out what I think is obvious. That’s not fair to her.
“I have questioned it.” Her eyes widen, just slightly. “Some of the things you’ve said, things that you couldn’t possibly know . . . I won’t lie. I have moments of doubt.” Her forehead creases, and she glances down, some worry or other emotion crossing her face. When she looks at me again, her mouth parts, and I wait for her to speak. I hold my breath, waiting. And when it becomes clear she won’t, “But, the reason I can push that doubt aside is because I believe Tyler’s in a good place, Sam. I believe it with everything in me.”