Tell Me Not to Go Page 10

  Sam lays her head on me, as I think about how lonely it would have been without my siblings. I picture Sam when she was a girl, sitting alone in a theater, and it bothers me for some reason.

  “Were you alone a lot as a kid?”

  She strokes my arm, almost reflexively, like she’s petting a kitten. Strange how little we know about each other, but how strong the urge is for us to stay connected physically.

  “Sort of. Made me independent, though, and good at making friends. Speaking of which, are you and Lizzie okay?”

  “Yeah. She’s worried, but I think she’s getting used to the idea. How about you guys?”

  A guy in the front of the theater turns to look at us, like he’s nervous we’re going to talk the whole time.

  “Tiptoeing around each other a tiny bit, but we’re alright.”

  Sam sounds relieved, and I’m reminded again how much Lizzie means to Sam.

  The movie starts—a romantic comedy where you know exactly what’s going to happen before it does. Why don’t these two characters know they’re going to end up together? Doesn’t matter, because I love leaning against Sam. Being this close to her in the dark.

  “I call bullshit on this,” Sam says in a pseudo whisper, meaning the couple up front can probably hear. “Look at her.” She gestures toward the actress on the screen. “She would not be sitting alone on a Saturday night.”

  Sam takes a bite of popcorn, which silences her for a full thirty seconds. “And how does he afford that apartment if he’s a struggling musician?”

  The guy in the front turns again and shushes us, so I focus back on the screen.

  “And here comes the quirky best friend. Right on cue,” Sam says, opening the Red Vines. At least she’s lowered her voice.

  She finally notices my silence and turns to look at me. “What?”

  “Are we going to watch this crappy movie, or would you like to talk through it?”

  “Fine,” she says, as she rests her head on my shoulder and her hand on my arm. Her mouth opens and closes like she still wants to say something, which is adorable.

  I’ve lost all interest in the movie, especially since Sam’s lavender and vanilla scent is muddling my concentration. I need to get closer to her.

  I nuzzle her gently with my chin and stroke her knee, trying to be content with that small contact. My hand has a mind of its own, though, and creeps farther up her thigh. Thank heaven for California, because Sam’s wearing shorts in March, and her skin feels like silk. Except, she stays stiff as a statue as I touch her, so maybe she’s not in to it. I clear my throat and tell myself to stop behaving like a teenage boy.

  Then Sam’s hand closes over mine. Inch by smooth inch, she moves it higher. She fidgets with her shorts, and now they are just loose enough for me to slip my fingers underneath.

  God, women feel amazing. They are like a secret you lean in to hear, the warmth of a fire, and the slickness of a summer rain, rolled into one. Sam is guiding me where I need to go, but I don’t want to make it so easy. I slow down and tease instead of satisfy. She’s not one to play fair though, so she leans over and sticks the tip of her tongue in my ear.

  “Mmm,” she moans, undoing the top button of my pants and moving her hand where I want it most.

  “Shh. We shouldn’t,” I whisper, my voice breaking as my body sparks from her touch. “We’re going to get caught.”

  She laughs and grips me tighter. “Live a little.”

  I put my forehead to hers. “What is it about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not myself around you. You make me want to do things I shouldn’t.”

  She puts her hand on my cheek, but her other hand is making such wicked, wicked motions. “Well I swore off guys until I met you, so I think we’re even.”

  We may both be risking something, but we’re certainly not even. Because I haven’t had my feet under me since I met this girl. And as we both start to sweat and strain, and finally, swear softly into the dark, I have the terrible feeling that I may never gain my footing again.

  I can barely keep my eyes open. Totally worth it because I spent another long night with Sam. First, I made her dinner, which was a complete failure because I forgot to use salt. She ate every bite, so I had her for dessert. And then we went back for seconds in the middle of the night.

  I just got home from work, and I’m sitting here staring at the wall, reliving the memory. Pretty sure I’ve blown a circuit somewhere.

  My phone rings, pulling me out of the haze.

  “Bro, why does the clutch stick when I put it in fourth gear?”

  I lower the volume on my phone—a requirement when it’s Bruce on the other end.

  “The clutch is fine. Just use more force. And be grateful I sold the truck to you in the first place. I miss her already.”

  Bruce’s laugh booms through my tiny speaker. “You really need to get a woman.”

  I can’t smother my smile. “Took care of that already.”

  “Smug bastard. What’s she like?”

  I run through all the adjectives floating around in my brain but none of them seem right.

  “Aww shit,” Bruce says, cutting into my thoughts.

  “What?”

  “I don’t like that pause. You’re doing it again, aren’t you? You meet the parents already?”

  I grab the back of my neck, rubbing away the sudden ache.

  “Real funny.”

  “When will the engagement be announced? I need to get my best-man speech ready.”

  He’s stepping on a really big nerve, as best friends can and do.

  “You dick. It’s different this time. It’s just for a couple months until she moves.”

  Now it’s Bruce’s turn to pause. “I hope so. ’Cause otherwise you left my ass here in Utah for nothing.”

  I think about Sam—the way she laughs against my lips while we’re kissing. How she looks me straight in the eye when we disagree. There’s something special between us. But this is my chance to start over, and no matter how great she is, I can’t go backward. Settling in for a serious commitment is definitely a move in the wrong direction.

  Lizzie, Bruce—they’re both trying to warn me to keep myself in check. Maybe I ought to do Sam—and myself—a favor and keep more of a distance. Because passion is one thing, but letting each other believe it’s more is another.

  “Yep. Definitely not long-term.” And I’d do well to remember that.

  Chapter 13: Sam

  78 Days Left

  You give a guy a good time and he never calls you again.

  Okay, he gave me a good time, too. And I guess he’s texted. Mostly, though, Jeff’s been MIA. Like I promised, I haven’t bugged him about it. If he wants to see me, he wants to see me, and I guess he doesn’t. He claims he’s been working a lot, and I’m sure that’s true. But who doesn’t have fifteen minutes to make a phone call?

  My last class of the day isn’t for another hour, so I head to the bubble tea place to meet Angel. She graduated last year but works at a start-up in Mountain View, which means Lizzie and I still get to hang out with her. Today, I need some one-on-one time.

  I spy her in the corner drinking a huge red concoction. I order a mango green tea and join her.

  “Yum. It smells fruity-sweet in here,” I say.

  Angel swirls her drink around in her cup. “Yeah, like pink. It smells like pink. What’s up, chica?”

  “Same old, same old.”

  My wide straw catches some of the boba balls at the bottom of my cup. I chew and chew, the tapioca squeaking in my teeth.

  “I feel gross eating these sometimes because they look like squirrel balls.”

  Angel smirks. “I doubt people are slipping you squirrel genitals.”

  “Hope not, because I can’t give them up. How’s it going with the jerk?” That would be Angel’s boss.

  “Still crap. If I had a dick, he might respect my opinion.” She nods at me. “You know what I’m s
aying.”

  Too bad I do. Medicine isn’t any less of a boy’s club than tech.

  “Why don’t you leave?”

  She licks red smoothie off the end of her straw and then uses it as a pointer. “I might. Or I might try to get promoted in another department and then make his life hell. We’ll see.”

  I high-five her. “Seeing anyone new?”

  “Eh. There’s someone I’m thinking about, but it probably won’t happen. Might be too big a change for me. I’ll let you know. What about you?”

  “I’m screwing Lizzie’s brother.”

  One thing I love about Angel: She doesn’t react. She sits there, chewing on her straw, staring at me until she’s discarded her first, second, and third thoughts to get to the heart of the matter.

  Finally, she sets her drink down. “That backfired on you yet?”

  I put my head in my hands. “At first, it was good.”

  “Now?”

  “We have this insane chemistry. Weird, I know, because he’s all . . .” I wave my hands around in the air to indicate kind and wholesome, but it doesn’t translate, and Angel shakes her head. “Anyway, we decided to have a short-term thing until I go to school.”

  Her smooth, brown brow furrows. “Can’t imagine Lizzie was thrilled.”

  “She was mad at first, but now she’s okay.”

  “Uh-huh.” Impressive that Angel manages to keep that from sounding sarcastic.

  “Okay, maybe she’s not totally cool with it. She thinks I’m going to get hurt. Which is totally annoying because, of course, she’s right.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s harder to be casual with him than I thought. And now he isn’t calling or coming over, and I’m realizing I’m only a piece of ass to him.”

  “Which you both agreed to.”

  “If I wanted logic I would have asked for it. Feel my pain, bitch.”

  Angel smothers the laugh I know she wants to let loose. “Why don’t you tell him you’d like to see him more?”

  “He’ll think I’m changing the rules. I’m the one who said no clinging.”

  Angel leans onto the table, her expression serious, her sleeveless Wonder Woman T-shirt highlighting her toned arms. Except she’s so short she can’t lean over that far.

  “I know you hate putting yourself out there, but stop being a baby and tell him what you want. And be honest with Lizzie while you’re at it.”

  I know she’s probably right. About everything. Angel usually is. But I’m also terrible at following advice.

  “What about you? Why so secretive about this guy you’re interested in?”

  She smiles and leans back, throwing her thick black hair over one shoulder. “No, no, no. Later. You’re going to go back to the beginning and fill in the details. And make it good.”

  Angel knows me too damn well, because I love to kiss and tell.

  Jeff texts me as I’m walking home from class.

  Hey. How’s it going?

  Like gangbusters. You working late tonight? I reply.

  He doesn’t answer back for a while. I’d like to believe he’s considering coming over. But probably he just got interrupted.

  Yes. How about you? Late study night?

  I should say no. I should tell him that I’d like to see him.

  Unfortunately. Talk to you tomorrow.

  A girl’s gotta have her pride.

  Chapter 14: Jeff

  76 Days Left

  I check my texts. Nothing from Sam today. Or yesterday. This creating distance thing really sucks. Maybe I pulled back on the reins gently, but Sam grabbed them and ground us to a halt. At least, that’s how it feels. She couldn’t care less that I haven’t come over. I thought she’d notice or comment or ask to see me. I was way off base.

  Is she as unsettled as I am by how often I think about her? That’s the optimistic view. It’s more likely she’s bored already. Either way, I can’t blame her for ignoring me because this arrangement of ours doesn’t give me the right to blame her, or to be upset, or to miss her. So I’ve been mostly radio silent. Hell.

  “Wanna grab some beers after work?” Eli asks as he looks over some financial projections I just finished.

  I’ve been putting in a lot of late hours this week on a promising media start-up, and I’m ready for a break.

  “Maybe.” I check my texts. Nothing. Obviously, Sam’s not pining away for me, so I need to get my head on straight.

  “Have to check in with the girlfriend?” Eli asks, his face mocking.

  Eli’s nice enough, but sometimes he acts like he’s a twenty-one-year-old frat boy.

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Cool. Nothing to stop you from coming tonight, then.”

  I glance back down at my phone. I wanted fire, and I got it. But in a couple of months, Sam and I will be over, so I need to get some perspective.

  “Nope. Nothing to stop me.”

  I wish I was in my jeans sitting in a dive bar. Instead, there’s a three-foot Buddha statue next to me, and I’m surrounded by the smell of money.

  We’re in the bar of a swanky hotel, and there is enough glass and red lighting in here to make me have vampire nightmares for a week. As we were walking into the hotel, a guy pulled up front in a Maserati and chucked his keys at the valet, like a total jerk. I thought people only acted that way in the movies. I’m getting used to these types of places, and I don’t know if I’m proud or unnerved by that.

  I order a beer from some Silicon Valley microbrewery that turns out to be fantastic, and I relax into the atmosphere. There are a lot of attractive women here, but the men are almost equally done up. The heavy grooming on Bay Area guys is taking some getting used to.

  “Dude, Jeff killed it in the meeting today,” Eli tells Keller, a guy I don’t know that well. Supposedly, a few more people from work will be joining us later. But for now it’s the three of us.

  Keller tips his drink back, never making eye contact with me. “Congrats, man. Call me when you actually source a winner.”

  “Don’t be a dick,” Eli says, his New York accent becoming more noticeable.

  I appreciate Eli’s loyalty, but I’m not going to get anywhere letting him fight my battles.

  I lean into Keller’s field of vision, so he’s forced to quit staring at the woman across the bar and look at me instead. “I’ll be too busy making partner.”

  Keller laughs and raises his drink at me. “Keep the hope alive, brother.”

  He tips his drink back and finishes it in one big swallow. That’s not cheap liquor, because Keller is expensive—the kind of guy that wears a ten-thousand-dollar watch he never glances at.

  “A few of us are going up to my parents’ place in Tahoe for the weekend,” Keller says. “Why don’t you come?”

  Eli nods. “You should.”

  “You can bring someone. We all are.” Keller gestures around the bar vaguely, leaving me to wonder if he thinks all these people are his friends, or if he just doesn’t really care about the specifics.

  “Sounds great. Thanks. Maybe I’ll bring the girl I’m seeing.” That’s if Sam can get enough time away from work and studying. And wants to come. “You have a girlfriend?” I ask Keller.

  “Hell no. I’m asking Andrea to come, though.”

  “From the office?” The idea of the two of them doesn’t sit well with me for some reason. Keller seems like the type of guy that’s had things come easily to him—including women. But it’s not my place to worry about Andrea.

  “Don’t shit where you eat, dude,” Eli says. “You get bored so easy, and then you still have to work with them.”

  “She’s not my assistant. It’ll be fine. That finance chick I was screwing turned out to be too clingy, so she’ll do.” Keller holds two fingers up in the air to signal the bartender.

  “That’s if she says yes.” I try not to sound like a jerk, but I fail.

  Keller smiles at me, his small eyes becoming slits. “Oh, she’s said yes befo
re.”

  He looks to Eli to confirm, and Eli laughs dutifully.

  I check my phone and see that I missed a text from Sam a half hour ago.

  Still chained to your desk cutie?

  It’s not an invite to come over, but it’s flirty and fun. Like Sam. Damn, I miss her, and I’m sick of pretending I don’t.

  There are other people from work walking through the door, which means I should stay awhile. I order another beer as the chatter grows louder and the crowd gets thicker. Nothing worse than being surrounded by a sea of people when there’s only one person you want to be with.

  Chapter 15: Sam

  Still 76 Days Left

  Marcus plops down next to me on my sofa and reaches into his book bag. Once he’s got his gear out, he grabs the plate of pizza I gave him. It has three huge pieces on it doused in Sriracha. After a study session with Marcus, my fridge is usually empty, and I’m not all that much wiser. But I’m sick of the library and no way am I going to his place. His roommates are slobs.

  “Thanks for the leftovers,” he says, his man bun jiggling as he eats.

  “Don’t they feed you at home?”

  “None of the guys I live with like to shop. Or cook.”

  “Or clean.”

  “Pretty much.” He takes another huge bite and then cracks open his textbook.

  We go over the material for next week’s exam, and then we fret about the med schools we’ve applied to. Marcus is jealous I got waitlisted at UCLA, but now I have to put deposits down and hope like hell a spot opens up. My chances are slim, at best.

  “Are you Catholic?” I ask Marcus.

  “Not practicing, why?”

  “I was going to ask you to light a candle or something for me. My mom says she is putting good thoughts out into the universe, but I don’t feel like that’s a legit strategy.”

  “I’ll have my grandma light one next Sunday.”

  “Yeah, I need some of that abuela mojo.”

  He laughs. “I don’t think it works like that, but it can’t hurt.”

  There’s a knock on the door, so I jump up and answer it. Jeff is standing on the other side, the lines around his eyes giving away his fatigue. But he still looks really good. His dress shirt is open at the collar, his shirt sleeves are rolled up, and he’s holding a bottle of something.