Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Uncharted series

srsly i dont pls dont sue me

1

Portugal

13 years ago

Supply and demand. Not enough supply and too much demand. In the little bar in Portugal, the demand was very high. The supply? Tequila, whiskey, beer - whatever the demand-er demanded.

The bar was sort of small, close to the water, and very hot. The air in Portugal was warm and humid, but it was only amplified by all of the sweaty bodies. The space was open, allowing for the occasional ocean breeze to cool you down. Under the awning, there were a couple of orange hued lights, bright enough for me to be able to see what I was doing but dim enough to exude a sort of dive-bar feeling about the place. The stools and chairs were all wooden and rotted around the edges and I wasn't completely sure if all the procedures were up to code, but it was slim pickings in this part of Portugal.

Besides, I didn't mind working there at all. It was close to the apartment I lived in with the other girls and it was close to the beach. And despite its appearance, all of the thirsty fellas inside were quite nice - or at least they weren't when they weren't yelling at me for their drinks.

"Duas cervejas! Duas cervejas!"

Two beers, two beers.

I spun around, grabbing two beers by the necks of the glass bottles, pulling the bottle opener from the pouch around my waist, popping off the top of them. I placed them down on the table, taking the money in return and then I looked at the next person. "Para voce?"

The put his big, hairy arms down on the table, taking the cigar from his mouth long enough to tell me he wanted to shots of tequila, which I promptly gave to him, taking the money he slapped down on the table.

The night went on like that for a while. Finally, it was getting much later and all of the men and women in the bar were either sitting down with their full drinks or sitting down with an empty glass, too drunk to get up for another one.

I wiped my hands on my towel, looking over the heads of all the balding, dark-haired men, looking out at the dark waves of the ocean. I heard a swell was coming in tomorrow morning. I was already planning in my head that when I got off work I would shower, nap, wax my board and head out as soon as possible. When I got back from surfing, I could sleep more before coming back to work.

"Ang?"

I looked to my side, seeing that my Aussie friend Nats was holding a beer out to me. I took it gratefully, leaning against the counter that wasn't covered in alcohol. "Thanks, man."

She untied her pouch, tossing it by the staff quarters - really it was just the corner of the bar with a bin where we could put our stuff. She leaned against the counter beside me, one arm crossing over her, the other holding her beer to her lips. She nodded to the waves. "Supposed to be good tomorrow."

"That's what I hear." I glanced at her. "You goin'?"

She smiled widely, displaying her slightly crooked teeth. "Does the sun rise in the east and set in the west?"

Nats was tall and muscular, due to her outdoorsy nature. She said she grew up near the beach in Australia and spent pretty well all of her life in the ocean, on the beach, or up the side of a mountain. She had the body that reflected that, as well as blonde hair the stretched the length of her back, usually tied back. She was a little bit older than me at the age of twenty-four, but I wouldn't have necessarily said wiser. If she wasn't working or surfing, she was drinking and partying. She was a messy roommate too, but she was a lot of fun. Never a dull moment.

She bumped my hip, noticing my drifted mind. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

She stared at me for a moment and then brought her beer to her lips again, gaze shifting back to the water. "Have you talked to your mom?"

I felt the stress return to me in one big wash. I shook my head, recalling our most recent conversation over the phone. "I'm not calling her."

"Little harsh, Angie."

A little harsh, maybe, but I didn't have the time or the effort anymore.

Unlike Nats, I grew up in a house with a small yard, a double-wide driveway, surrounded by other houses that looked exactly like mine. We were a couple minutes out from the city of Albany, New York. I couldn't say I liked it or hated it because it was all I ever knew. When I was a senior in high school, I had already done my bidding and applied to all of the colleges and universities suggested by my parents, but when it came down to choosing, I couldn't make myself. I knew there was a whole world out there that I was never going to see if I put myself through a program that was going to take too many years of my life from me.

When I told my parents I was planning to go to Spain for a couple of months, they told me that my older sister, Tara, who was living in New Orleans, wanted to take me in, help me get a job. When I called Tara and asked her about it, she told me that it was news to her and that she would do it, but only if that was what I wanted. When I told her it wasn't what I wanted, she asked if I needed any money or anything to get to Spain.

My parents had given me as much support as they could force themselves to give me. I knew my father was satisfied enough, with one of his children being a higher-up in a big company, with a husband and a kid on the way. He cared about my future, but he was a lot less pushy with me now that Tara had given him pretty much everything he wanted. My mother was supportive too, but every conversation with her was about my options and about when I was coming home. After a year and a half in Portugal, I was tired of having the same conversation. We had an argument. She stopped calling and so did I.

I wasn't ready to answer all of her questions. I wasn't ready to decide a path in my life. Though I knew nothing was definite and concrete, I didn't want to waste time and money and something that would ultimately leave me unsatisfied. I didn't want to make the wrong choice when it came to serious, future-related things, so I stayed away from making any choices at all.

"You've gotta talk to her soon, man."

I brought my beer to my lips, taking a couple of seconds to gulp down the cold, dark liquid. I rested the bottle on the counter, letting my head fall back as I looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know what the fuck to say to her."

Nats grabbed my shoulders, making me look her in the eyes. "You tell her you've got your shit figured out down here and you won't be taking her shit anymore!" Her accent was heavy and her voice loud. She smiled at the end of her sentence, hand slapping against my arm harshly. "Take charge, kid."

I laughed, picking up my beer again. "Can you take charge of your dishes, Nats? They're piling up."

"For sure, I'll get to it," she said, nodding surely, already making her way to the other side of the counter, soon disappearing into the crowds of people in the bar.

I finished off my beer, wiping down the counters from all of the smelling alcohol. When I saw a man approach, I tucked the towel away, asking them what I could get for him. "O que posso fazer por voce?"

His slicked back gray hair and the terrible Havana shirt he had on made him come off very American. He took the expensive cigar from his mouth, holding it in his hands as his elbow rested against the counter. "Voce fala ingles?"

I tried to conceal my laughter, which came at the sound of his choppy Portuguese. I did smile though, wide and charming, placing both my hands on the counter and leaning forward. "Yes, I speak English."

"Wonderful." He smiled also. He was older, probably fifty something, but he was in very good shape. His face had few wrinkles and his voice was deep. He was very handsome, despite the thick moustache hanging over his top lip. He pointed to the corked board on a near wall. "Those are some nice pictures."

It was a cork board with some photos pinned to it, all of them landscapes of the many beautiful hidden gems of Portugal.

When I only nodded in response to him, he turned back to me, eyes dark but kind. "Did you just get those off of Google or did someone take them?"

"I took them," I informed him. If he wanted prints, he was out of luck. Most of the photos never saw the light of day, mostly due to my perfectionist nature. The ones that I did think were nice enough for people to see just got stuck up there on that board and that was it.

"Oh, you're very talented." He was buttering me up and I wasn't falling for it.

My head tilted, eyebrows raising. "Aren't you going to ask me where I took them?"

"Well, now that you've brought it up..."

I chuckled, untying my pouch from my waist, resting it on the counter behind me. My break was long overdue. I grabbed another beer from the cooler, knowing that I would have a word from my boss about it. "Locals only," I told him, taking the clip from my hair and shaking my head, walking around the counter to a table closest to the beach.

The man sat down with me, leaning far back in his chair, bringing his leg up to cross over his other one. "And you're a local?"

I shook my sandals off, bringing my knees up to my chest, reaching down and rubbing my feet. "I think I've earned it at this point."

I was only twenty-one, but I had been in Portugal a year and a half. All of the shit I had been through and witnessed and still decided to stick around, I had definitely earned the title, I thought.

The chair next to the man screeched against the floor and another man sat down in it. I watched him as he leaned back in his chair, shoulder slumped a little bit. He looked a bit tired, as well as a little bit sweaty.

"Nothin'," the other man said simply. He looked to me, brows furrowing slightly, a smile making way to his face. His teeth were white and straight. "At least I've been doing my part." His big hand held onto his beer that rested on the table as his eyes stayed to mine. "Not sitting here, flirting with a pretty lady."

The moustached man gestured to me, which I could see from the corner of my eye. "She took the photos."

I smiled as politely as I could. "I didn't catch your names."

The older gentleman outstretched his hand, shaking mine gently when our hands connected. "Victor Sullivan."

The other man took my hand into his calloused one right after, shaking it with a little less care. "Sam Drake."

I slid my hand from his grasp, taking the small moment to discreetly look from his chest to his face. "Angela."

I looked between the two of them again, eyes settling on Sam Drake. He was younger, maybe early thirties, and also very fit in the body, as well as handsome in the face. He brown hair was pushed back and away from his face, ending around the nape of his neck, revealing a small tattoo of what looked like a couple of outlines of birds in flight on the side of his neck. He looked like he had maybe shaved a couple of days ago as the short, but dark hairs were growing in on his tanned face. He wore a loose fitting white tee, which hung away from his body as he leaned over, revealing a hard and tanned chest. Tanned, dark hair, dark eyes, and a little less trust-worthy looking than Victor Sullivan.

Sam held out a photo - one of my photos, a rip in the top where it came off the board. He placed it down on the rounded, wooden table gently, tapping his index finger against it. "You took this?"

I picked up the photo, though I already knew I had taken it. I examined the beautiful and lush green surrounded the harsh water coming off the rocks. It was so beautiful. I remember hiking to that spot and how hard and confusing it had been and also how worth it it had been.

I put the photo back down, simply saying, "Yes."

Sam leaned back into his chair, arm slung over the back casually as he stared at me, eyes steady. Again, a charming smile on his face as I felt a heat rise over me. "Locals only, I'm guessing?"

I laughed a little bit, shrugging my shoulders as I looked at the two of them, my eyes once again finding Sam's. "Look, I'm sorry. I told the person who showed me that I wouldn't show anyone else." I sighed, pushing the photo further toward them. "I know it sounds childish but they take their secrets seriously around here."

"How seriously?" Victor reached into the pocket of his terrible, terrible Havana shirt, taking out same paper bills folded together, held by a clip. He placed it on the table, closer to me.

A very quick, very surprising gesture.

That was two months rent for me, just judging by the thickness. It wasn't such an incredible amount that could command the reaction I thought they were probably hoping from me, but it was still a decent amount of money.

I smiled, closed-mouth, a little smugly. "Big money, huh?" My arms crossed over my chest, brows furrowing as the curiosity got the best of me. "Why are you guys so desperate to get there? There are plenty of nice hikes around here."

It was a fantastic spot and it wasn't easy to get to. There were a lot easier, still beautiful places to go.

"Maybe we just really like waterfalls." Sam's voice was deep and playful, eyebrows raised in suggestion.

I hummed and nodded, running a hand over my bare leg as my eyes narrowed slightly at Sam Drake, my smile just as playful as his tone. "Romantic."

Sam chuckled and Victor's finger tapped the bundle of bills. "Going once, kid."

I reached out, taking the money and taking the clip off and rifling through the money, counting carefully while tucking it away enough to not grab the attention of other people in the bar. When I discovered it was in fact two months-ish of rent, I folded it again, putting the clip back over it, tossing it against Victor's chest. "You've got a deal."

They looked surprised that it was so easy. I was surprised I went for it so easy too, but it wasn't like I was getting the lottery here at the bar. I could use that money. Plus, it was a beautiful spot and people deserved to see it, even if it was a pair of men I knew nothing about.

I stood, pulling my shoes back on. "I'll take you a little ways up the trail, but I can't hike the whole way with you." I walked away from them, hearing them stand from their chairs and follow. When I got to the bar, I started to tie my pouch back around my waist, seeing that they were standing on the other side of the bar, waiting for more information. "I'm free the day after tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Sam said, sounding sure.

I gave him a smile, not being able to control the look on my face. "Demanding."

Victor Sullivan, cigar still in hand, said, "Sooner rather than later would be better for us, sweetheart."

I put on a smile on my face, non-cholant when I told him, "Find someone else then." I looked at the man sitting next to them, eyebrows raised. "O que posso fazer por voce?" The man asked for another beer, which I quickly gave to him. When I looked back at Victor and Sam, they were just finishing saying something to each other. "We still got a deal?"

"It's a deal," Sam said simply, voice deep and slightly rough.

"Great." I pulled out two shot glasses, pouring a clear liquid into them that I could've used to clean my kitchen sink instead. "Let's drink on it."

Victor chuckled, placing the fat cigar in his mouth. He took a couple steps away, toward where the bar connected to the cobblestone street. "If I drink that, it'll be a three day recovery." He walked around Sam, hand slapping him a couple of times on the shoulder. "We got shit to do tomorrow, don't forget."

"Heading out so soon?" I pushed the small cup of clear liquid closer to him. "Come on, Victor - one for the road."

He smiled. "Take it for me, sweetheart. And, please, call me Sully."

I picked up the glass, raising it to him. "To you then, Sully." I tipped it to my lips, throwing my head back to help the momentum. I put the glass back on the table, shivering as I laughed. "Ooo, that's bad." I opened my eyes, looking at Sam as I grabbed one of the two shots left. "You get to choose what this one is for."

He chuckled, settling down on one of the stools, picking up the other shot glass. He rested his elbow on the table, raising the glass to me. "To Portugal."

I clinked my glass against his, looking over his handsome face. I felt a smile come to my own. "To Portugal." Slowly, I raised the glass to my lips, watching as Sam took the shot first. Once I could see that he swallowed, I took the shot myself.

Sam was unfazed, giving me a lopsided smile as I shivered again. "How long have you been here?"

I took the glasses, putting them down into the sink behind me. I spun around, wiping my hands on my pouch. I felt the harshness of the alcohol warm my body immensely. I sighed, resting my arms on the bar, leaning in, looking over Sam once again. I just couldn't stop myself. He was very attractive. Suddenly, I remembered his question. "About a year and a half."

I couldn't tell by the look on his face alone, but he was leaning forward on his stool, close to me. His eyes were dark, gaze steady. There was still a slight glisten on his skin, even more apparent in the orange glow of the lights by the bar. God, he was hot. My eyes fell down to his hands - big, rough, but inviting, even tempting I dare say.

"Where are you from?"

"Albany. Yourself?"

"Boston."

I hummed. "You don't have an accent."

"I could," he said, voice still low, still rough. "Just say the word." His words slid down my spine in one warming motion.

I chuckled, pushing my thick hair over my shoulder, trying to allow the breeze from the ocean to cool me down. "Have you always been this charming, Sam?"

He shrugged, trying to seem modest. He came off as anything but. "I've had some good reviews over the years."

"Give me your best, then."

Sam nodded quickly, shooting me a look as if to say 'I've got this'. His back straightened, shoulders squared to me as his thick eyebrows waggled over his eyes. "What brought a girl like you to a place like this?"

Smooth.

I shook my head, trying with my best effort to hold in a laugh. My hand raised to my mouth when I couldn't hold it in. I allowed myself a good chuckle and then I took a breath. "I think I'm in love."

His shoulders relaxed, along with his entire body. The act fell away, the charm very much staying put as he continued to look at me for a long moment. He then asked, "Really, Angela, why are you in Portugal?"

"I needed out of New York," I told him, finding even that small snippet annoying to hear. "I know it's typical, but I just needed away from -" My hometown? My parents? My ever apparent need to make life-defining choices? "Stuff." I shrugged, shifting on my feet, feeling the stretch in my sore legs. "What about you? What brings you to Portugal?"

"Sully and I recover artifacts."

"Recover artifacts." I nodded, brows furrowing. "If that isn't the sketchiest thing I've ever heard."

A smile - a mischievous one - appeared immediately. "Danger is exciting though, isn't it?"

If I wasn't sure before, I was now. The way he looked at me made me entire body hot, from my toes to my light feeling head. He was charming, with much practice I assumed. This didn't seem like anything new to him. It didn't bother me. I had also had my fair share of hookups. Working at a popular, beach-side bar in Portugal had its perks - handsome men being one of many.

It was the heat of the night, it was the alcohol resting easy inside of me, and it was the look on his face. If all I had to do was take him up to some trail on the side of a mountain in a couple of days, I was likely never going to see that guy again.

Surprisingly saddened by the thought of not seeing this strange man again, I leaned forward further on the counter, crossing my arms tightly together, feeling my breasts press together in my top. My eyes were pinned to his, which unabashedly glanced down at my chest, which made me smirk. "You like trouble, is that it?"

He responded well, also leaning closer, voice dropping just for the two of us. "You could say that."

"Good." The closer I got, the more of his face I could see, and the more I wished we were already back at my place. "There's plenty of that back at mine."

His eyes went from my eyes to my lips and then back to my eyes. "Right to the chase, huh?" The heat from his body was intense. He was so close, I could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath.

"Is that a no?"

A very small, throaty chuckled came from his mouth. He pressed his lips together, seeming to think for the smallest of moments. "Now I didn't say that."

...

I walked back into my apartment, sighing heavily as I placed my surfboard near the front door, letting the water drip from it onto the dirty tile that was in the living room/kitchen area. I looked in the fridge for a brief moment, feeling my skipping breakfast this morning especially hard in that moment. When there was nothing good, I jogged up the stairs, the sound of my now dry feet slapping against the tile.

When I reached the top of the steps, I noticed one of my many roommates, tugging hard on one of the many windows that didn't latch shut. "It's impossible."

Cara looked over her shoulder at me briefly. "Oh, hey." She returned the bulk of her attention to the window, tugging on it harshly before letting go, standing up straight and sighing, a tight look on her face as she turned to me. "I thought you were surfing."

The waves were a little big for the level of skill I was at and I had forgotten to wax my board, making me slide off more times than I usually would. That made me get tired a lot faster. Plus I was hungry. Safe to say, I wasn't out there for very long at all. I left early in the morning. There weren't any clocks conveniently placed around the house but I suspected it was about noon.

I brought my gaze away from the ocean and back to her, my tired arms crossing lazily over me. "Yeah, just not my day." I nodded to the window. "Why do you need it closed so bad?"

It was always open and no one seemed bothered by it.

Cara grumbled, turning back toward the window, tugging at it yet again. "I can't focus on work -" She tugged hard. "Because of those fucking -" She tugged again. "Loud ass people on the street!" She gave one last tug, pulling the brassy handle off of the window. She held it in her hands, staring down at it for a moment.

I chuckled, watching as she neared a mental breakdown. I stepped forward, grabbing the handle from her. "I'll superglue it back on later." I patted her back. "Don't worry about it."

She took a deep breath, shaking her head and pushing back her short red strands away from her face. "I'm calm."

I tossed the handle on the old, sad and slumped, but very comfortable couch behind me. I pulled my rash guard over my head, placing it delicately on the window sill, hoping the sun would dry it fast. I took one last glance at Cara. "Let's go get something to eat in a bit, okay? Fridge is empty."

"It's Danielle's turn to shop."

"My point exactly." I turned, walking down the hallway. "I'll be ready to go in fifteen." I entered my bedroom, seeing the tanned, lifeless-looking body of Sam Drake still in my bed.

The sound of the door opening made him roll over in my light blue sheets. He took a deep breath, one eye opening as he barely lifted his neck of the pillow. "I didn't know you left."

I chuckled. "Went surfing. Sort of." I walked over to my dresser. The drawers didn't really fit, so some of them didn't close and other ones were hard to open. I yanked on the drawer with my underwear. I looked inside and then glanced at Sam over my shoulder. "I didn't expect you to still be here."

Sam was sitting up, displaying himself from the torso up. The blankets were low enough to make it obvious he wasn't wearing underwear, but he was decently covered. He looked out the window, the light hitting him hard. "I think last night hit me hard."

I was worried once the morning came - the darkness of the bar gone - that I would come to think I made a mistake. I was way off base on that one. In the light, I couldn't remember him looking anymore handsome.

"Yeah?" I turned to face him fully, eyebrows raised, a smile on my face. "Which part? The shots or the sex?" I walked closer, watching him watch me. When I got close enough, his hands reached out for me, pulling me onto the bed. I laughed loudly, soon interrupted by his lips on mine.

When he pulled away, his free hand stroked my shoulder, soft and gentle. His face was so close to mine, he shifted slightly, moving away a little bit to look me in the eyes. "I had a really good time last night, Angela."

"Me too," I said sincerely, reaching up and pushing his hair from his face. "Sam, was it?"

"Ouch." He feigned hurt feelings, but couldn't not smile as he pushed himself off of me, landing on his back on my mattress. I laughed, standing and pushing my long, damp hair over my shoulder. I reached behind me, undoing the strings of my bathing suit top as I walked back over to my dresser, removing my bottoms as well. As I pull my underwear up my legs, Sam said, "No offence, Ang, but you don't seem that busy today."

I walked toward my closet, finding a top that would support my breasts sufficient enough for me not to wear one. I picked it off the hanger. "I was planning on surfing much longer." I pulled the shirt over my head, glancing at Sam to see him sitting on the edge of my bed, pulling his pants on. I took the comb from my bedside table, standing in front of him and combing through my hair. "I knew I would need some sleep and then I would have to work. Tomorrow's my day off. I figured that'd be best."

Sam stood, my eyes now level with his chin. When I looked up at him, he said, "We do appreciate it, you know."

I hummed and nodded, looking him up and down. "So do I." My gaze didn't quite make it back to his face as they stuck on three, small-ish, circular-ish scars on the left side of his stomach. I reached out, tracing my pointer finger along them. "You've been shot."

"Hasn't everyone?" He walked around me, looking for his shirt.

I sat down on my bed, taking his spot, nodding to the corner of the room, at the button up hanging off of my lamp. "Lamp." I watched as he plucked it from the lamp, pulling it over his head, but not before I caught another tattoo on his left shoulder - a hand of playing cards.

Both of his tattoos looked not professionally done, which didn't make me think too much. The gunshots, however, caught me a little off guard. I guess in the darkness and hastiness of last night made me miss quite a few things I was realizing a little too late.

This guy had been to prison.

Another thing I was realizing was that it didn't scare me. The thought scared me, yes, but Sam didn't. I suspected - and really, desperately hoped - it was for nothing too bad. I suspected it was this 'artifact recovery' business.

I knew that they were legal ways of doing it and then more efficient, less legal way of doing things. I knew that people paid big money for strong, skilled men and/or women to go out and find these old things that were worth a lot of money. It wasn't a crazy concept. It was just when people started to say the word 'treasure' was where it started to get a little ridiculous for me. It also lost its appeal when you heard about some of the stuff that happens.

In Portugal, there were too many undiscovered paths. They had been discovered, but not by anyone in the modern age. Since then, those paths had become crumbling and overgrown and dangerous. I knew of some trails that were a death sentence.

Sam noticed my face - the gears turning. He chuckled lowly. "I'm not a murderer or a rapist or a cult leader, if that's what you're thinking."

I placed my hands behind me, leaning back on my arms as I sighed lightly. "Have you been to prison lots?"

"In and out." The expression on his face was a little more blank at that point. I think he was waiting for a reaction from me to know where he was supposed to be at. "Panama."

Central America. I couldn't imagine that was pleasant.

"Was it all for this thing you have going on - the treasure hunting?"

He nodded, taking a couple of slow steps toward me. Once he saw a neutral expression on my face, he sat down on the bed beside me. "My brother and I have gotten into our fair share of trouble doing this."

"What happened to your brother?"

Sam smiled, looking away for a moment, seeming to recall fond memories. "He's got a wife and a company and a life back in New Orleans." His eyes came back to me and he smiled. "Boring stuff."

I smiled too, feeling more relaxed than before. "And Sully's proven to be more useful to you?"

He shrugged slightly, his face coming closer to mine. "If not for his smarts, he does make me look more handsome in comparison."

I leaned forward also, the tip of my nose brushing against his as I smiled wider. "Whatever you say." I leaned away, standing quickly. I reached down and swiped my favourite pair of shorts from the floor, pulling them onto me. I walked over to my door, opening it and looking at Sam. "Coming?"

Sam stood, walking out of my bedroom and into the very sunny hallway. "Kicking me out so soon?"

I walked beside him, headed toward the stairs. "You'll only have to miss me until tomorrow." We walked down the stairs and toward the front door, Sam stopping in the doorway. I looked over my shoulder, yelling into the house, "Cara!" I turned back to Sam. "It's not an easy hike. I'm sure you're prepared for a couple days of hiking." When he nodded, so did I. "I can be at the bar early - around six. We'll take my boss's car and I'll drive you guys out to the area."

Sam nodded firmly. "Sounds like a plan."

I took a big step forward, hand resting on his shoulder as I kissed his cheek. "See you tom -"

Sam's hand came to the back of my head, preventing me from moving too far away from him. He placed his lips on mine and then pulled away very briefly to allow me a moment to adjust, our lips coming together again more comfortably. His other hand rested on my lower back, pulling my hard against him. My other arm went around his neck, pulling us closer together, if that was even possible.

"Oh."

I pulled away from Sam slowly, looking to see Cara at the end of the stairs, watching us in surprise. I smiled at her, untangling myself from Sam. "Ready?"

She grabbed her purse off the table. "If you are," she said, sounding unsure. She walked toward us, saying a polite 'excuse me' as she slid past me and Sam, heading onto the street.

I patted Sam's shoulder. "You can find you way back, can't you?" I looked at him for a brief moment, hating myself for wanting to stay at the house with him. My hand lingered on his hard shoulder, also hating myself for not wanting to let go.

He nodded, eyes forever steady on mine. "I think I can manage."

I walked around him, closing the front door, my bare feet touching the hot cobblestone. I walked a couple steps down the street, seeing the place I had in mind for lunch in sight. I turned back to Sam for a brief moment. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, kid." He was walking the opposite direction, waving his hand lazily. "Tomorrow."