Sam still wasn't that comfortable with attending parties.
He had been at Stanford for two years, and they had been some of the next years of his life. True, they didn't have much to compete against – his childhood had been more than fucked up by a long way – but even if he had been 'normal', he probably would have said the same. He loved his classes, had a great group of friends and had been part of some amazing things. But his old life left deep scars and there were some situations that we would never get used to.
Parties reminded him too much of the past. All the bars he went to gave him flashbacks of hustling pool and talking to victims, pretending to be twenty one aged just twelve or thirteen. The mad frat parties were chaotic and confusing and had Sam constantly on edge, worried that anyone there could be a siren or demon or worse. Even small parties in people's flats always had elements that made him uneasy – the time that Franny suggested a séance almost had Sam running out of the room. None of his friends had noticed, but every party Sam went to was a battle that he struggled to win – let alone enjoy.
However, Brady had claimed to be throwing 'the best party ever!' and insisted that Sam had to come. He had invited a load of pre-Med students to mix with the pre-Laws, and everyone else was excited about it. Sam hadn't had a good excuse and he needed to get used to partying anyway if he was going to survive the rest of his university life, so he had said he would be there. But now, he was seriously regretting that decision.
The house where the party was being held was already loud and crowded when Sam arrived, and it made his old senses tingle. A group of unfamiliar people were having a conversation outside, beer bottles in hand, and music thumped in the background. He made his way over quietly, glancing around for someone to help him through it, and almost sighed in relief when he glanced inside and spotted Brady.
"Sam! You made it!"
"Hey, Brady." Sam's eyes scanned the dim and crowded room on reflex, automatically cataloguing exits and potential weapons. He spotted a kitchen across the room, a good place for salt, and the coat hooks on the wall were solid enough to be iron.
"There are some people you just have to meet. Do you know Katrina? And I haven't introduced you to Jess yet, she's a babe, completely your type too."
Sam forced a laugh, thankful for the acting skills his old training provided him with. "Forgive me for not trusting your opinions on girls, Mr. I-Don't-Date."
"Ye of little faith! Hey, Jess, come over here!" The last part of Brady's sentence was directed at a group of girls in the corner. They all turned simultaneously, and Sam's eyes scanned over them appraisingly.
Two were pre-Law students he knew – Ana and Kerri. The others were unfamiliar and varied widely in appearance, but one in particular caught his eye.
She was blonde – he preferred brunettes but her hair just suited her – with a nicely shaped face and a gorgeous figure. She was wearing a scandalously short little blue dress with a v-neck hinting at ample cleavage, and despite three or four inch heels was still a good six inches shorter than him. Sam looked away before she noticed his glances, but he couldn't deny to himself that she was pretty. Still, it took more than looks for him to truly be attracted to a girl, and he refused to allow alcohol and a party atmosphere to change that.
"Sam, this is Jess, a close friend of mine. Jess, this is the guy I was telling you about."
The blonde smiled, and Sam cursed a Norse deity he had encountered when he was nine that she had to be the pretty one. He refused to allow Brady the satisfaction of picking a girl he actually liked for once.
"You're tall," Jess commented, looking Sam up and down.
Sam shrugged. "Everyone else is just short."
Jess laughed, and Sam felt something stir at the sound. Damn. It had been a very long time since he had allowed anyone to affect him like that.
"Tall and cute. I like it." Jess winked at Sam and he felt himself blush. Her friends were whispering to each other and it took a lot of willpower to tune them out.
"Short and feisty. Not so bad yourself." Sam had never really been the womanizer growing up, that had been Dean, so he had only had the past couple of years to really learn how to flirt. Jess was reminding him just how inexperienced he was in that department as she easily grinned away.
"Get me a drink first."
"Vodka martini?"
Jess's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Sam realised belatedly that normal people weren't that observant. Most guys wouldn't realise that the girl they were chatting up was drinking her second or third martini, wearing Touch of Pink perfume and carrying a bottle of water in their clutch. It was a bit creepy to know so much about a person so quickly, and Sam fought the embarrassment and waited for the insults.
None came. "One olive, and if you dare spike it your package will be decorating the walls."
Fighting away residual nerves, Sam made his way over to the drinks table and tried to recall from undercover bartending work the correct way to make a vodka martini. He couldn't see any olives, but aside from that he was reasonably satisfied by his efforts. He grabbed himself a beer for confidence and made his way back to where Jess was conspiring with her friends.
"No olives I'm afraid."
Jess accepted the drink carefully and took a sip. Sam almost held his breath. He really didn't know why he was so worked up, and Brady seemed to have disappeared without his hunter senses flagging which should have set off warning bells. It was strange how Jess affected him.
"You pass the test. Fancy a walk? It's kind of crowded in here."
The words seemed to be some kind of signal for Jess's friends to disperse. Sam felt a prickling sensation at leaving with someone he barely knew, but parties made him uneasy and he was battling with his developing attraction to Jess. Feisty girls were a huge plus to him.
"Sure. Lead the way."
Jess was more confident with the area than Sam was, his dorms being on the other side of Palo Alto. She stepped out into the night air with a radiant smile, slipping the hand not curled around her drink into Sam's. It took him a second to register the touch as non-threatening and hold her hand.
"So, what made you want to do pre-Law?"
The question came from out of the blue, but it was familiar, and Sam had his cover story ready.
"I've always been interested in the law, and I was always on debate teams as a kid. It was a good fit. What about you, why pre-Med?"
Jess shrugged. "Usual deal, I want to help people. I've been considering switching to Nursing rather than the full deal though, there's more caring involved in that role. Besides, I don't want to spend my life living in textbooks. But hey, I can switch at any time, it's no big deal. Why Stanford?"
'To get away from my dad.' Sam's mind screamed. He brushed it aside. "I liked the look of the course and I was offered a scholarship. That settled the deal. You've always lived around here though, I'm guessing?"
"Observant." Jess noted. "I'm a Cali girl. Stanford's a great uni and most of my friends wanted to go there, so I followed the crowd. I don't regret it, but I do want to travel a bit more someday."
"Trust me, moving around isn't as great as it's cracked up to be." The words slipped out unbidden, and Sam cursed internally. He couldn't afford to give out details of his past life.
"No?" Jess seemed curious.
"I moved around a lot as a kid. Dad's work." Sam's answers were short and clipped, and fortunately Jess seemed to sense the tension and dropped the subject.
"Anyway. I suppose the real question here is – your place or mine?"
Sam had never been propositioned quite so bluntly.
"I'm sorry?"
Jess rolled her eyes. "Come on Sam. We left the party together stupidly early after you made me a drink. You've been eyeing me up from the start and I know from Brady that you're single. You're tall, cute, and you have that mystery-man air which just seals the deal. So, your place or mine?"
"I have a roommate." It was a lie – Sam's roommate had moved out at the start of term – but he hadn't been as careful since Keith had left and he didn't want Jess finding anything. He couldn't deal with questions.
"So do I, but she's at the party and I doubt she'll be back. It's a few blocks from here. Do you mind walking?" Jess was so matter of fact that Sam was taken aback every time.
"No?"
"Good." Jess turned, pulling Sam back the way they came down the road. He followed awkwardly, confused and turned on by the strange little blonde. It was rare for Sam to struggle to pin someone, but Jess managed it. It was probably why he found himself liking her.
Jess's dorm was tucked away in one of the smaller blocks. She was quiet as she lead the way, but it was a self-assured quietness rather than the perplexed silence displayed by Sam. He wanted to say something, but he had no idea what you were supposed to say in situations like this. He had always been the one to take charge before, and never so soon after meeting someone. This was a first, and Sam was stupidly far out of his comfort zone.
Yet he was still inexplicably aroused by it.
When Jess finally unlocked her room (next to a fire exit, number 15, worn lock) she dropped Sam's hand and went to pick a couple of things up off the floor. The room was fairly generic, a few pictures on the walls and knick-knacks dotted around but nothing particularly unique. Sam spotted Jess's perfume next to a bottle of Sensuelle that probably belonged to her roommate.
Sam was an ex-hunter. He had finely tuned reflexes, a near-photographic memory and an ability to blend into most situations. He spoke several languages passably and could find a person's death records in under half an hour. He was currently top of most of his classes and could tell you the most appropriate breed of dog for a person in under five minutes of knowing them. But despite all of that, he couldn't accurately recall what happened next.
One minute Sam was watching Jess chuck some clothes in a laundry basket. The next her lips were on his and he was spinning her around, pinning her against the wall with his hands roaming all over. His eyes met hers and sought permission, which she granted easily. Clothes vanished and lips worshipped large expanses of skin, Jess hesitantly running her hands over a few more suspect scars on Sam's body.
He waited for her to ask. She didn't.
They migrated to the bed fairly quickly, and Sam had a feeling it was the roommates bed by the smell of the sheets but Jess's hands were so amazing that he wasn't complaining. A few strokes and he was so hard that it was criminal, his hands scrabbling for a moment before he regained the brainpower to reciprocate. The sight of Jess's face thrown back in ecstasy seared itself into his mind and erased everything except need, and he barely registered that he needed a condom before he prepared to thrust into her.
He prepared to look for his jeans but Jess had to be psychic because she produced a packet from nowhere and tossed it at him, waiting patiently as he rolled the condom on. Her eyes were hooded and her body was perfection itself stretched out beneath him, her nipples flushed a rosy pink and her lips kiss-swollen and slightly parted. Sam pressed kisses into her neck as he sank into her, the sensations overwhelming and clouding his rationality. This was hardly his first time, but it may as well have been with how fuddled his mind was.
It didn't last as long as it should have. Sam took control but Jess still knew all the tricks, and it took a lot of willpower to hold out until the came. Once she did, Sam followed without pause, slumping down more exhausted than he had been in a while. His arms sought Jess's body and held her, slotting her in like she had been there his whole life. In a way, he wished she had been. But Sam would never choose to subject someone to that.
They woke up in the morning still entangled, and Jess laughed and smiled as she made a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs. Sam had expected it to be a one-night stand, but he couldn't help but press a kiss to her lips as he left, and in return she scribbled her number onto his hand.
When they were still together a month later it astounded him, and he had never been happier. When they moved in together after barely a year, he hoped he had finally escaped his past.
It always hurts being wrong.