Be thankful that journalism rarely has a lot of work to be done. Enjoy the chapter!
After lingering around Leah's house when he should have been patrolling the whole rez, Sam swore to himself he'd not go near her again. She'd leave soon enough, and he could crawl on his knees and beg Leah's forgiveness later.
He didn't last a day.
The next night, he found himself outside of the house once again, watching from the edge of the trees, ears perked forward to catch the faint sounds of the inside of the house. They were watching a movie; Harry was asking Seth about something to do with school. She didn't say anything.
When they finally all went to their rooms for the night, Sam forced himself away to complete patrol. But his thoughts weren't on anything other than her. Emily. The soft look to her skin. The way her hair had looked in the rare sunlight. Her eyes, oh her eyes.... He was probably was better off watching the Clearwaters' house than patrolling, for all the attention gave his job.
By the afternoon of the second day, he just had to see her. In person. Face to face. He had to breathe in her scent again. He had to look in those eyes. A shiver of anticipation ran up his spine at the thought of maybe touching her, shaking her hand - a proper introduction. They hadn't had one. It would be polite, expected even.
Before he could stop himself, he was in his car driving to the Clearwater household. He got out and knocked on the door, only then realizing he had no excuse to be here. What would he say? Why was he here? He doubted "I just had to see Emily" would be a good response.
Thankfully, it was the subject of his thoughts that opened the door. She blinked, surprised, looking up at him.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I'm here to see Harry," he automatically answered. Mentally, he let out a breath of relief. Thankfully his mind could supply a lie under pressure.
"He's not home. He's fishing." Her eyes narrowed. "Besides - shouldn't you want to see Leah?"
He shifted uncomfortably. Leah. What would he do about Leah? This was so complicated, but he couldn't seem to care about seeing Leah. He wanted to see her, Emily. Leah who? he mocked himself darkly.
After a moment, Emily sighed and opened the door. "I guess you can come inside. Harry should be back soon, I think," she added in a mutter. Sam ducked his head as he stepped inside, and Emily shut the door behind him. A long few minutes were spent uncomfortably in the hallway. Sam couldn't take his eyes off of her, taking in everything he could. The soft, slim shape of her. The lushness of her lips. The thick lashes around her eyes.
Eyes that were staring back at him, uneasily.
He cleared his throat. "We haven't been... properly introduced," he said, finding the words feeling far too formal and awkward. "I'm Sam Uley." He held out his hand casually. Inside, however, he was tense, wound tighter than a coiled spring. What would her skin feel like against his own? How would her hand fit inside of his?
After a moment that felt like forever to him, she placed her hand in his and shook. "I know," was all she said, but he didn't care. Her skin was softer than it looked, than he thought skin could possibly be. She seemed so small compared to him; his hand engulfed hers completely. The wolf inside him howled with the loss as she pulled her hand away.
Which reminded him that he wasn't... normal. That this whole situation wasn't normal. He scowled.
"Thirsty?" Emily asked abruptly, hints of embarrassment in her tone. She turned and walked farther inside. Sam realized his eyes had drifted down the follow the sway of her hips and he was trailing after her, and froze, shaking himself.
Had he mentioned anytime in the last few days that he was so in trouble?
Emily glanced back again at the large man behind her, waiting in the doorway of the kitchen as she grabbed a glass. He was scowling at the floor - did he ever smile? - and didn't seem to realize she was waiting for an answer. She sighed quietly.
"Sam?" she asked.
His head shot up, something flashing in his eyes, before he frowned slightly. "Yes?"
"Do you... what would you like to drink?"
Sam ducked his head again, examining the floor. "Water is fine."
She filled a glass with water and handed it to him. His blistering fingers brushed hers as he took it and she ignored the way her skin burned pleasantly.
"Thank you, Emily."
Emily swallowed thickly; for some reason, the way he said her name was different than anyone else saying it. It made her very aware of how wonderfully pleasant the sound of his voice was.
"No problem," she whispered, not to be quiet but because she couldn't speak any louder.
This was a problem. He was her cousin's sort of boyfriend! At the moment, they may be in a rut, but Emily was sure Leah would forgive him soon enough. It was obvious he truly was apologetic for being such a slacker in the attention department. He truly cared about Leah.
So she shouldn't be thinking of what it would feel like to link her fingers with his.
Or how it would feel to snuggle against his warmth.
Or what it might feel like for his lips-
Emily gave herself a mental slap upside the head and brushed past Sam into the living room, sitting down on an armchair. He followed behind her, lowering himself onto the couch and somehow managing to make it look graceful. For a while, it was quiet. Emily picked at a loose thread on the armchair, pulling and twisting it.
"How long are you here?"
Emiyl glanced up in shock when Sam broke the silence, her eyes just a little wider than usual. "Uh...." She blinked. "Another week."
Sam nodded, a small part of him whining that a week was too soon. Too little time. He wanted to have longer to...
What? He asked himself mockingly. Get to know her? It wouldn't matter... if he really was imprinted on her - and that still wasn't proven - then he was and would always be drawn to her.
A part of him wasn't sure he'd really mind that situation....
"What do you do?" he asked. The questions were spilling from his lips impulsively. He couldn't keep them back; he had to know more about her. It was a complusion that was beyond him to control.
"I, uh, I'm a student," she said slowly. "I'm going to start college in Seattle after I head back."
A pang pierced his chest. He'd been planning to head out to college, with a scholarship and everything, before this happened. He hated that his life had fallen apart, and still was.
"That's great," he finally said in response. "What'll you be studying?"
Emily shifted, drawing her feet up under her and leaning back against the chair. "I'm not sure. I haven't really decided. There's just so many... options."
He nodded in agreement. "It's nice to have options," he said, bitterness tainting his words.
Emily frowned, wondering what he'd meant by that. Obviously, it was a somewhat sore subject, but why'd he bring it up? What did he have to be so bitter about.
"What about you, Sam?" she asked, eyeing him. "What do you do?"
He turned his head away from her. Where before he'd been staring so intently, he'd made her feel like she was under a spotlight, now he acted like he was alone in the room. It took him a long while to answer. "I do some... enforcing around here, for the Elders." His voice was quiet, his words careful.
Emily tilted her head. "Is there a lot of need for enforcing around here?" It seemed so quiet and peaceful....
He shrugged. "Enough for once guy."
"What made you decide to... do this?" She didn't know how to phrase it without sounding judgemental. She wasn't even too sure why she was pushing something she instinctively knew was a sore subject. As she watched, Sam seemed to grow more distant, more unhappy. Slight lines of stress and pain appeared around his eyes and mouth.
"I didn't."
The two words hung heavy in the air, dark and more bitter than cold medicine. Before Emily could ask anything else, the door opened and Harry stepped inside. He paused upon seeing the two of them in the room, sensing the tension that had started tightening the air, and stared at Sam.
"Sam, did you need something?"
Standing, Sam shook his head. "I'll see you around, Harry." He shook the older man's hand, then left through the front door, the sound of it shutting the only noise from his exit. Emily listened as his car started up and the sound of it faded away, neither her nor Harry moving or speaking.
"Have a nice chat with Sam?" Harry asked, watching his neice curiously.
Emily shook herself, rising and grabbing the glass Sam had left on the coffee table. She shrugged, smiled absently at her uncle, and took the glass to the kitchen. She had a lot to think about. Sam Uley was different than she'd ever expected. He was troubled, unhappy, but trying so hard to convince everyone around him that everything was fine.
And she wanted to know why.