Hey everyone! Long time no see, I know! I hope everybody has been well. I apologize for not updating, I deeply do. I've ad computer issues that I have yet to sort out, so this update might be the last for a while, I am sorry to announce. But, I do promise that I will not leave this story, or my other two unresolved if I can help it and I thank everyone for their patience (: I really do have the best readers and reviewers in the world! And don't forget to keep checking out knifeinback's stuff! It's excellent!
Also, I am still accepting one-shot requests! Please send some in, I get bored since I can't work on my other stories!
Although I am all for education and the power it brings, Chemistry is boring and should no longer be taught; nothing personal to anyone who adores the subject. Sam is sitting next to me, nearly dropping asleep as the teacher drones on and I'm not even inclined to prod her awake because it's completely pointless - much like this class.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a note of some kind is 'discreetly' – that is, as in well within clear view of everyone – passed to Sam by the dark haired boy, Zach, I believe, sitting to her right. I observe the flowery way that 'Sam' is etched onto the folded lined paper and deduce that it was from another girl. A quick peek around the room and a smirking redhead later, I further deduce that the note was most likely from Wendy.
What does Wendy want with Sam? Seeing as she has quite a shady nature, it probably isn't anything good.
Sam looks over at me and shrugs, holding the note in her lap as she unfolded it. Her eyes quickly scanned its contents. Then, she proceeded to rip the paper into bits and crumple the bits into a wad and swallow it whole. Interesting.
--
At lunch, Sam seemed to be upset at Freddie for 'forcing' me to consider a date with him, and I allow myself to feel good about that because it's the closest thing to jealousy that I've managed to get out of her yet.
"Carly, he's a nub, don't do it," Sam warns after having devoured all of her food and some of mine. Not that I particularly mind, seeing as how cafeteria food is nearly inedible.
"Sam, be nice," I reply, but I grin because I find her concern endearing. Or something.
"You guys are talking as if I'm not even here, sitting at the same table as you!" Freddie squeals indignantly.
"Yeah, well –"
"Sammie," Sam froze as she was cut off by a new voice. At the same time, Sam and I both turn our heads to find that the new voice was Wendy's. "I brought you a snack," she says holding out a fatcake with a wide grin and a light blush covering the bridge of her nose.
Sam's eyes light up as she snatches the treat from the redhead's palm. Without muttering a 'thank you' – or even thinking about it for that matter – she rips off the wrapper and hungrily devours the fatcake in a single bite.
"I hope you enjoyed it," Wendy said almost suggestively, after Sam finishes chewing, smiling and leaning forward enough for Sam to have a nice view straight down her shirt. "Don't forget to meet me later," she cooed.
She cooed!
"I'll be waiting," she concluded, making eye contact with Sam before winking and turning to saunter off.
She sauntered!
How dare she feed Sam, and cooand winkand saunter! What a complete slut, she has no class at all.
Sam's eyes seemed trained on Wendy's retreating form and she was practically drooling at the very sight of the girl's slightly swaying butt. Yeah, sure, Wendy had completely filled out in the last year or two and she had an uncle that owned a snack factory, but that was no excuse to be so… so unladylike! The nerve.
--
All day since lunch, I had been waiting for Sam to leave class, but she never did. The clock continued to tick by, but she had yet to budge. I smirked to myself in satisfaction. 'Eat dirt, Wendy, Sam's not coming,' I thought to myself.
But, during 6th hour, twenty minutes before the bell was set to ring to signal the end of the day, Sam stood from her seat and exited the classroom without so much as uttering a word. Our teacher, Mr. Ernest, having known Sam for half a year already, simply pushed his glasses further up his nose and resumed the lesson.
Not wanting to miss anything, I rise from my seat and attempt to follow Sam.
"Miss Shay, where do you think you're going?"
"Er, may I please go use the restroom to vomit violently?" I blurt out.
"You may," he said nodding, seeming satisfied.
I quickly exit the classroom, and after spotting Sam and Wendy in the hall, I duck behind a row of lockers so that I won't be seen.
"I guess we could," Sam says, shrugging. She's leaned up against a locker, her posture was cool and composed, but her face was out of view seeing as her back was facing towards me.
Wendy smiles and bites her bottom lip. "Your place or mine?" she asks, reaching out and running a slow finger down Sam's arm. She's batting lashes now and by the way Sam's body reacts, her touch is hot.
"It doesn't matter, as long as you're there," Sam delivers smoothly, and I would congratulate her on her game if I weren't spying and if she wasn't using it on Wendy.
"Oh, Sam," she cooed back, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Just be at my place Saturday night," she commanded gently, leaning in towards Sam. "I'll be sure to show you a good time," she says in a low, nearly seductive voice.
My grip on the locker tightens considerably and I'm not sure just how to describe how I'm feeling, so I don't even try. What could Sam be thinking? Or better yet, what wasn't she thinking?
--
Back at the loft, Sam sits on my bed wearing boxer briefs with her legs crossed, which sounds a bit awkward, but for her it looks perfectly natural. Her tight underwear actually lets me see a near-perfect and dangerously explicit outline of her private parts. I lick my dry lips to moisten them.
"You aren't going on a date with Freddie," Sam says after I close my math book, having completed the homework assignment for the night; Sam had decided to opt out of it and I didn't bother to argue about that tonight. "I've decided for you, so you can tell him that you're no longer considering." She picks up my math book and tosses it on the ground as she scoots closer to me. "Capice?"
I perk an eyebrow at the last part of her statement. "I didn't know you spoke Italian, Sam." I joke, smiling as she rolls her eyes at me.
"Hey, I'm serious," she defends, giving me a toothy grin.
"Why do you get to decide?" I ask, lifting up the corner of my mouth in a defiant smirk.
Sam snorts a laugh in response. She stands up on her knees for a moment before leaning over and dropping herself down on top of me, successfully knocking me over and pinning both my wrists above me head. "Because, I own you, Shay," she growls out playfully and I can tell that she's trying hard not to let her private area touch me, but this position gives me a clear view of everything and I can't stop staring as her pelvis hangs above mine.
"Carly, if you keep staring at him, he's going to think you like him," she says in an overly cocky voice and releases my wrists.
"Who?" I ask, glancing around curiously.
Sam only smirks before groping between her legs and giving herself a slight squeeze-and-shake. "Dirty Dangerfield," she proclaims proudly.
"Er. You named it."
"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" Sam asks.
"Because it's a body part?"
"I swear, he has a mind of his own," Sam replies, and I guess she's right if she's associating with Wendy.
"It's a 'him?'" I ask.
"What else would it be?" Sam shoots back.
I nod. "Fair enough."
"Do you like his name?" she asks. "It suits him, doesn't it?"
"We'll work on it."