Oh. I love this story so much more now. I just trimmed a little here, trimmed a little there, and voila. A whole new look for this wonderful story. (:Read, drink it all in. Then, review. Pretty please, click that review button.
Note: There's a point of view change in here. But I'm sure you guys can figure it out, because I marked it in BOLD, ITALIC LETTERS.
Sam
I took a deep breath before knocking on the all too familiar door. Silently, I prayed that he wasn't home. Then I could come back tomorrow, or the next day. Or the next, next day…
But I heard the locks begin to click open, and I knew there was no getting out of this.
I heard the door swing open, and I kept my eyes on the ground. I could hear his light breathing. Right now, that was the only sound in the world.
Eventually, I had to look up. I looked right into his eyes. Those stupid, stupid, brown eyes. I was going to try to smile, ease the tension a bit. But I couldn't even muster up a half smile. He looked so serious, it made my stomach churn.
"Can I come in, Fred? Can we… talk?" I decided to use the nickname that was closest to his real name, to make sure I didn't make him angrier than he already was.
"You don't have to come in. We can talk right here." He leaned against the door frame, showing me that he wasn't planning on moving.
"Okay, I'm not good at this kind of stuff. I never have been. I probably never will be. But I can try. "I glanced up at him, taking his silence as a sign to keep going.
Oh goody. Here comes the part when I get to say sorry. Come on, Sam, you can do it. I buried my face in my hands, avoiding his gaze. I began to recite the speech I had practiced in my head a million times the night before. "I'm…. sorry. I just-"
"Sam, why won't you kiss me?" He cut me off with the blunt question. His boldness surprised me. Damn it. He wasn't supposed to interrupt me. I didn't plan for that.
"I… Um… I-I'm…. Uhhh." I babbled like an idiot, searching my head for something, anything, that he would accept as an answer.
"I'm going to take wild guess. Here goes: You feel like you can't trust me. Is that it? Did I get it?" He spoke softly, but his words were deafening.
His words struck a target in my heart, dead on. He was right. I tried to avoid his gaze as I shrugged a little. "Um, maybe. I don't know," I mumbled.
He sighed before walking into the kitchen, away from me.
I was a little angry now. "God, will you quit walking away from me?" I closed the door and stomped over to where he was. We were both in the kitchen now, and I wondered if it was possible to continue my speech at this point. "I just… I don't know what you want from me." I said it like a little kid. I felt like a little kid.
He could tell I was on a short fuse. He chose his words carefully. " I want you to know that you can trust me. I need you to know that, Sam. You can trust me." He took a small step closer to me.
I felt vulnerable, and I hate feeling vulnerable. "I know that I can trust you, Dork. But obviously, for unknown reasons, I have some sorts of trust issues. Sorry to disappoint, but I can't change that fast." I bit the inside of my cheek and sunk back against the counter, leaning against it.
"Oh believe me, I am not asking you to change. I just needed you to know. You can trust me, Sam. With anything." I glanced up and caught his gaze. We stayed like that for a while. I quickly broke our eye contact, turning my head away from him.
I bobbed my shoulders and twisted my mouth to the side. "I guess…. I can trust you. I mean… I can learn, at least." I trained my eyes on the floor, suddenly fascinated with the hole in my shoe. I could see a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. I could tell he felt triumphant.
He was the first to speak after what feels like an hour of quiet. "Are you hungry?" That's one thing I've always liked about the dork; he never dwells.
I looked up at him, smirking before replying, "I'm always hungry."
He opened the freezer, pulling out a carton of cake batter ice cream. He smirked as he jokingly offered it to me, knowing I would never turn it down. I snatched the carton out of his hand and ran into the living room, falling heavily on the couch. Well look at that. I'm still Sam. He laughed at my behavior, following me with two spoons.
Freddie.
Sam had finished her snacking for the day and I had finished my previously interrupted House marathon. We were sitting on the couch, smiling and laughing like two idiots in love. I traced patterns on her arm as we mumbled about the epic show we had just filled our adolescent brains with. She tries repeatedly to start a game of 20 questions, without much luck. She throws a few unnecessary punches, of course, because she's Sam, and unnecessary punches are her thing.
It's 10 o' clock when Sam loudly declares that she needs her beauty sleep. I begin to quickly clean up. She just sits and lazily rubs her stomach, watching me with a content look on her face. I grabbed her hand, leading her to my room. Or, as she likes to call it, the Fortress of Dorkitude.
She made her way over to my dresser, opening the bottom drawer that I had cleared out long ago so she would have a place to keep her belongings for our impromptu sleepovers, which usually involved her sneaking through the window at midnight and leaving out the window at 3:00 AM, just in case my hawk of a Mother decided to do one of her 4:00 AM fire drills.
After taking out an old t-shirt of mine and black shorts she looked at me, waiting for me to leave. "Oh, right. Uhh... Make yourself at home. "I said as I walked into my bathroom to brush my teeth.
"I would have made myself at home anyway, Dweeb. " Sam replied loudly as she changed. I chuckled as I heard her jump onto my bed.
When I walked back into the room a few minutes later, she was half asleep. She lifted her head and smiled at me, motioning to the spot next to her before dropping her head, admitting defeat to the dream world. Once Sam decides to sleep, nothing can stop her.
I stripped down to my boxers and climbed in beside her, because I'm her boyfriend and I'm allowed to do that. She throws an arm over my chest and tangles her legs with mine. Her feet are freezing, like always. I laugh and wrap my arm around her, just because I can.
I fall into a fitful sleep that is often interrupted by a sharp kick to the shin, but I've pretty much grown immune to that by now. Occasionally, I wake up and listen to her talk in her sleep. Repeatedly, she mumbles the phrase, "I'm happy, and warm."
She really is a child. A complete and utter child. And that's why I love her.
