(Loriot: I have returned! For the summer, most likely. Woo. So! I have a new story for you. It was initially intended to be a oneshot, but I've been getting antsy, so I'm going to post it in three parts. It was going to be divided like that anyway ... and it'll help those of you with short attention spans to focus. XP I jest. As with all my writings, now so few and far between, I am rusty, and still trying to get a hang of these characters' voices. Forgive any OOCness and enjoy! There is far too little of these two in the world.)

Blanket Disclaimer: I do not own the Sammy Keyes Series. Please don't sue; this story is for entertainment purposes only, not profit.

Comma

Sammy sat cross-legged on the low wall lining the sidewalk near the high school. She was silent, eyes trained on the main door as she waited. The sun had begun to sink lazily below Santa Martina's skyline; the sky was colored in all shades of orange and pink, with a hint of purple closer to the deep blue of the evening sky. Sports teams trickled out of the high school as practices ended. In groups of three or four , football players exchanged crude jokes loudly, and some flirted with the cheerleaders as they lagged, trying to preserve the few minutes they had between practice and the homework they had waiting. The band kids walked in-step ahead of them, dressed in loose shorts and tees which had their show's name blazoned across the chest; guard girls carried their flags, some took the time to twirl them, others simply jamming the long poles into their cars' backseat. Sammy glanced at the chattering groups briefly before returning her attention to the main doors.

This had become a routine of sorts over the past few weeks. She was finally off the hook, finally finished with her (well deserved) community service sentence, finally able to do what she wanted with her time after the school day. Usually she'd hang out with Holly, Marissa, Dot, and Cricket; visit Hudson (and Mikey. Sometimes.), or even go home and work on homework before dinner. Yet, as school year had worn on, Casey's absence from the halls of the middle school had become increasingly apparent to her. By the end of October, she found excuses to be near the high school when it let out, or when the theatre department let out, depending on the day. Sometimes she was with friends, often she was alone. Though, to be honest, the first time she ran into him after rehearsal had been purely coincidental. Now she found herself sitting outside the school two or three times a week.

Her visits weren't anything explicitly agreed upon. But by November her after school visits were a given. Casey found that his gaze always flew to "her" spot on the wall whenever he left school, even if he knew she wouldn't be there. Sammy's friends didn't know (or pretended not to know) about the increasing amount of time she had been spending with Casey Acosta. The routine became comfortable, familiar. A limbo of sorts where they didn't have to worry about their friends or their families; they just spent time together. Sometimes as friends, often as something almost-kinda-possibly-maybe more. But they didn't worry about that, didn't try to work out that mess. They just let themselves be.

Today, though, Sammy had been specifically asked to be there. He'd sounded concerned when he called their apartment. Before Sammy was able to get any sort of explanation out of him, the director made him get off his cell. Sammy had immediately dashed from the apartment, yelling a quick explanation to Grams. In her hurry she had forgotten that it'd be another hour and a half before Casey would be finished with rehearsal. So she'd sat down to wait, anxiously tapping her foot against the cement wall.

The door swung open, and Casey trudged out. Sammy perked up at the sight of her friend and waved. He waved in response and walked towards her, dropping his backpack on the ground. She uncrossed her legs, allowing them to swing freely over the edge of the wall. He sat down next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder, their jean-clad legs just barely touching. Casey stared at Sammy's hand resting on the edge of the cement, toying with the idea of placing his hand on hers.

"So, what's up?" Sammy nudged Casey, knocking him out of his daze. He shook his head, and looked over at her, smiling.

"Remember how your mom told you she'd ended things with my dad?" Casey sighed, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"My dad told me the same thing, of course … but I don't think they were telling the truth."

Sammy watched him wide-eyed as he explained what he'd come across in the past week – train tickets, hotel bills from a Hollywood address, and – the kicker—a recent voicemail from Sammy's mother on his dad's cell phone.

"So … I asked my dad about it this morning. He avoided the question and sent me to school saying we'd talk later. I'm going to get an answer from him tonight. I already know what's going on, but I think he ought to tell me instead of sneaking around." Casey paused, staring off into the distance, scanning the late afternoon traffic for his dad's car. Sammy simply stared, wide-eyed. Coming to her senses moments later, she slouched and huffed angrily.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" Casey met Sammy's eyes. "It's not your fault."

"I know – it's just – God!" Sammy exclaimed and threw her arms upin exasperation.. "Lady Lana knows just how to make a huge mess out of everything." Sammy groaned and ran a hand through her hair. "I am sorry that my mother is causing your dad to act like this. There's no excuse for having your dad lie to you. Grams'll be furious, I can tell you this much. I don't know what the hell goes through my mother's mind sometimes; she's so selfish! And this time she's affecting more than just me and Grams!"

"I don't want you to get in a fight with your mom because of this; it's just as much my dad's fault as hers."

"Sure, I can see it now," Sammy mocked, cheeks flushed in annoyance. "'I think be best if we didn't tell the kids we're dating quite yet. Samantha doesn't adapt to change well, and I'm sure she'd have an aneurism if she thought I was dating her . . . friend's father.'" Sammy's cheeks grew pinker as she faltered over what to call Casey. She finished the rest of her sentence in a rush, hoping to cover her mistake. ". . . not necessarily an accurate imitation of my mother, but –"

Casey waved a hand to stop her. "I'm sure the feeling was mutual on both ends."

The pair sat in silence. As the sun sank lower in the sky, the cars passing by flickered on their headlights. Sammy bit her lip in thought, still furious at her mother. She glanced at Casey who was staring blankly at the traffic. Having had an entire night to process the information, Casey was feeling rather apathetic towards the whole ordeal. He was upset with his dad, sure, but he couldn't change anything. He just thought Sammy should know, and from what Sammy had told him about "Lady Lana," her mother was certainly not planning on telling her anytime soon.

She finally sighed. "Nothing we can do to change it, I suppose."

Casey shrugged, "They're adults; we're kids. I doubt they'd want to listen."

"No."

Casey stood up with a sigh. "My dad's here … guess I ought to go." Casey paused, and turned, standing in front of Sammy. Her knees were pressed against his thigh. He looked down at her, their height difference more pronounced. "I'm sorry about all this too, Sammy …" He swung his backpack over his left shoulder, gesturing with his right hand as he talked. "I thought that we were finally …" He watched her carefully, taking in her wide hazel eyes, her faint freckles, her mouth, always seemed to be tucked in a sarcastic grin. He'd spent the better part of two years trying to get this girl to trust him, and it was shot to hell in one stupid move by his dad. He sighed dejectedly. "I'm just sorry."

"Like you told me – it's not your fault." Sammy reached out to touch his arm. Her fingers were warm against his cool skin. Casey glanced over his shoulder, watching as his dad pulled the car in one of the empty parking spots. He looked at her once more.

"So," he said, quietly, leaning closer to her. Sammy's eyes widened at the determined look on his face. She shifted slightly so that their position would be more comfortable. Somehow her left knee ended up trapped Casey's. "I guess this is the last time we'll see each other before our parents are an official 'thing.'"

"I guess?" Sammy responded quietly. Her mind, reeling, was slowly processing what was going on.

"And we don't know how long this'll last."

"No," Sammy murmured, her eyes focused intently on his. She sighed inaudibly as he tilted his head to the side.

"But, the point is, right now … this is still okay." Casey closed the gap between them, pressing his mouth against Sammy's intently, his bottom lip caught between hers. Sammy's eyes were wide as he kissed her. Her mind buzzed faintly as it tried to get her attention. Her hand, still touching his (warm) arm, closed, closed, gripping tightly as she moved closer. Pressure, softness, warmth, and . . . she closed her eyes, kissing him back, but … then it he pulled away. Sammy blinked open her eyes, dazed. Casey smiled sadly. A short distance away, a car horn honked.

"That's dad," he murmured.

"Alright," she responded, blinking rapidly. She was still warm. All over – her arms, her legs, her chest, her lips.

Especially her lips.

God, she'd never felt so warm.

"I … I'll see you later?"

Sammy grinned broadly, "Try to keep me away."

Casey grinned, pulling away from her. "See ya, Sammy." As the car honked again, rolled his eyes and hurried off. As he reached the parking lot he turned and waved at her, a large grin on his face. Sammy smiled slightly and waved back. She watched as the Acosta's car pulled out of the school's parking lot and sighed. She touched her mouth lightly. It was going to be a long year.

To Be Continued ...