Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.

03 - INDIFFERENT ABOUT EVERYTHING - 03

I am jolted out of my sleep for the third time this morning. This time, the cause is the front door slamming. I grimace at the thought that Leah is purposely making as much noise as possible in order to wake me up as she gets ready for school.

As if I haven't tried everything possible to convince her I'm most definitely not after her boyfriend. Honestly, the lack of trust she obviously has for me is hurtful, and even with my passive nature, I know I won't be able to handle her antagonistic attitude for much longer.

I resolve to… well, resolve the issue as soon as she gets into the house this afternoon, whether she wants to listen or not.

Since I'm up, and somewhat jumpy now, I decide to just stay up. It doesn't escape my memory that Uncle Harry has asked me to open the store this morning. However, last night, he was no where to be found. And this morning, he's sleeping like the dead by the time I'm ready to leave, so Aunt Sue suggests that I head to Sam's house.

She asks me why I didn't get the key last night and I don't know what to say. I doubt that she would've allowed Leah to go over there so late on a school night, so it's best if I say nothing about her involvement. Instead, I avoid eye-contact, lie, and say he wasn't home. Then, I leave quickly before she can question me further.

As I make my way to Sam's house, I keep reminding myself that all I have is a little over half an hour before the store needs to be opened. That means I need to get to his house, quickly, without procrastinating.

I walk briskly up to his front door and I ring the doorbell. I wait for about ten seconds, but there's no answer. There's no sign of life at all, actually.

I momentarily wonder if he's sleeping, which lead to thoughts of what he looks like as he sleeps… which lead to thoughts of what he wears to sleep. I feel my face getting hot and I chastise myself for the thoughts as I forcibly shove them out of my head. I know better than to think of Sam that way.

I wait another five minutes before I concede that he's not home.

Before I let disappointment take over, I turn and head determinately towards the store. There's always the possibility that he's opened it himself. He knows I don't have a key, and he knows that Uncle Harry doesn't tolerate the store opening any later than ten.

I approach the building fifteen minutes later with an air of dismay. The lights are out and the door is clearly locked. He doesn't appear to be here either.

I don't have a watch, but I can estimate easily that I probably about ten minutes left, and no cell phone on which to call anyone. I could kick myself. Now that I think about it, it would have made a lot more sense to call him first. And then to call the store if he didn't answer his house phone. I feel entirely idiotic.

I turn in defeat, ready to head back to the house, then stop immediately and gasp as I take in the sight before me.

Sam is standing not two feet away, panting, bare-chested and without any shoes. Without a word, he steps around me and unlocks the store door, then holds it open expectantly.

Shocked beyond words, I can do nothing, but stare at him. He stares back at me, the same unreadable expression on his face as always.

I take a breath, and force myself to look away. "Thank you," I mumble as I slide past him. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, and it's highly disconcerting.

He follows me in and stands silently while I hustle around the store, attempting to get everything ready in time. I don't understand what it means that he still hasn't said anything, but I try not to let it bother me. I do a pretty good job of ignoring him, which surprises me, considering I'm hyperaware of his presence at all times.

To my relief, I manage to get the store open right on time. Although, there aren't actually any customers this time of morning, so I would have been fine either way.

The entire time Sam is watching me, but strangely, it doesn't make me uncomfortable. Right when I'm about to ask him if he plans on staying, he clears his throat to speak.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier," he says, gazing at me with what looks like concern in his eyes. "I woke up late."

My eyebrows raise at that, and I glance pointedly at his clothing - well, lack of it. "So you ran all the way here in your… pj's?" I ask.

His face darkens, and I realize he's blushing, which makes me blush as well. "I didn't want to disappoint… Harry," he says, quietly, avoiding eye contact.

"It's funny that I didn't run into you," I say, curiously. "I just came from your house."

His head jerks up and he stares at me again. "We must've taken different routes," he says, stiffly.

I have the weirdest feeling that he's lying, but for what, I don't know. It's not like I care if he was anywhere else than where he was supposed to be. Unless… he's doing something crazy… like cheating on Leah.

I quickly silence my thoughts. Even if he is, it's none of my business. I chance another glance at him to find that he's staring at me again. My heart flutters, I catch my breath, and I look away.

"Are you going to… um… stick around today?" I ask, my voice low. It bothers me that a simple look from him can reduce me to a whisper.

His eyes dart to me and then away. "No," he says, gruffly, and just like that, he's out of the door.

The disappointment I feel bothers me, too -

- too quiet, and I know it's centered around Leah. I look around the table, focusing on one person at a time, but no one makes eye contact with me, and it makes me wonder how much everyone knows or suspects about her problems with Sam, which also makes me wonder if they know of my alleged involvement. I sigh, quietly, and finish my meal, quickly, before excusing myself.

Half an hour later, I steel myself to knock on Leah's door, and then I do so, lightly.

"What?" she answers, immediately.

I open her door, slowly, and poke my head in. "I need to talk to you," I say, quietly. She glares.

"Go away."

"Lee, come on," I say. "You know I'm not interested in S - "

"Well, he's interested in you!" she snaps, cutting me off.

I step into her room and close the door behind me. She watches me with livid eyes, anger evident all over her body.

"I don't think so," I say, softly. "He told me he loves you, Leah. That he's going to marry you."

"What? So you talk to him behind my back?" She stands up from her bed, defensively.

"No, I - " I pause, close my eyes, take a breath, and open them again. "Look, Leah, I love you."

She rolls her eyes, and starts to respond, but I hold out a hand for her silence, and surprisingly, she complies.

"And I don't know what else I can do to convince you that I'm not after Sam. And honestly, I don't think I should have to do anything. You should trust me because I'm your cousin, and your best friend, and we should not let any guy come in between that. I don't want to say anything bad about Sam, so I won't, especially because I don't really know him. But Lee, if he's not treating you the way you deserve to be treated, then he doesn't deserve you."

There is a long silence in which I look at her, and she looks at her bedroom floor.

"He doesn't call me Lee-Lee anymore," she suddenly says, her voice tear-clogged, and I realize that she's crying.

"Oh, Leah," I say, crossing the room instantly, my 'anger' forgotten. I lay a hand on her back and she sinks down her bed and bursts into tears.

"I-I don't know what to do, Emily. I kn-know he's attracted to other girls, and that's n-n-normal, but I don't want to l-lose him! I can't," she sobs. "But I f-f-feel like we're going to br-break up!"

I think it's probably for the best, but I don't dare say it out loud. I would never hear the end of it.

Instead, I suggest ice cream and romantic movies, like any good cousin should, and for the night, the living room is ours -

"- ours is too small. Come on, Mom, you know it's not fair. Seth's room has always been bigger. We should switch just for the summer - "

"No way, no way, no way - sorry, Emily - no way, no way, no way," Seth interrupts.

"Leah, you know it's not fair for me to ask Seth to give up his room. You never had a problem having the smallest room before - "

Grinning to myself, I catch Uncle Harry rolling his eyes, and just barely contain my laughter. Now that I'm back in Leah's good graces, she's gone all 'Girl Power' on all of us. I know it has a lot to do with the fact that she's decided not to speak to Sam for a while, and that he's hurt her ego by not once bothering to call, or come by and see her for over a week. They haven't even spoken of plans for her graduation, which is supposed to be on Friday, two days from now.

I know this because she complains to me every night about it. It's only during the day that she maintains her 'I could care less' façade. At night, she breaks down.

As for Sam, he seems to be indifferent about everything, and I don't understand it all. Sometimes he comes into the store while I'm working, as if he's forgotten it's my shift, and he'll quickly leave. But for the few seconds - or minutes as the case may be - that he's there, he doesn't say anything about Leah. He barely says anything at all. I'm lucky if I get a simple, 'Hello.'

Thursday morning, the store gets a shipment in, but Uncle Harry comes down with a bad chest cold. I was supposed to take the morning shift while Uncle Harry brought the boxes in, but since that's impossible, he's asked Sam to take the shift with me. Which means we'll be working together for the first time in a while… for the entire day, since no one is available to take the evening shift.

Meaning we'll have to communicate with each other.

I wake up extra early on Thursday trying to ignore the anxiety that is tying knots in my stomach. Sam is just a person. I can work with him. I tell myself this over and over, and I head out the front door feeling more positive than I had initially.

I take less than three steps away from the front porch when I hear someone behind me clearing his throat. I jump a foot in the air and spin around.

Sam. Fully clothed this time.

He's off to the side on Aunt Sue's porch, meaning I must have walked right past him and not noticed.

I put a hand on my chest in a feeble attempt to calm my stuttering heart.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Sorry," he says, his eyes racking my form from head to toe. I can only assume he's apologizing for startling me, but at his gaze, I feel my entire body start to heat up, and I curse myself internally for thinking about him this way. Again.

"What are you doing here?" I repeat, a little harsher than I intended.

His eyes narrow slightly, and he pauses where he has started to step off the porch. "I thought… I'd walk you to work," he says, stiffly.

Well. That's surprising. But something in the way he says it, though, makes me think it wasn't his idea.

"Did Harry ask you to?" I ask, self-consciousness pouring off of me, I'm sure. I shift from foot-to-foot, anxious now to get going. But still, part of me wants to know if I'm right.

He looks surprised at my question. And guilty. That look tells me everything I need to know, and I can't help the slight pang of disappointment that cuts at me. I shrug, and gesture at him to start walking.

For about five minutes, we just walk in silence. Since it's still early, we don't have to rush, and I berate myself on not taking my time getting ready this morning. I don't know how to act around him anymore. It's hard when I have no idea how he feels about me or what he feels for me, and it's even harder that part of me doesn't want to know.

He clears his throat, jolting me out of my thoughts.

"I divided up the afternoon and night shifts for later on, so you don't have to stick around for the entire day," Sam says.

"I see," I reply, quietly. "Still trying to get rid of me?" I mean it to sound somewhat like a joke, but I know it doesn't come out that way at all.

I suddenly realize I'm walking alone, and I turn around to see that Sam has stopped a few feet behind me. It seems like a million emotions flash across his face before he opens his mouth to speak, hurt being the first and foremost.

"I'm not trying to get rid of you," he says, intensely, his voice low. "I just didn't think it was a good idea for you to work over ten hours straight, without some kind of break, so I thought one of us could leave early, then come back and take over later for the night shift."

Oh.

"I'm sorry," I say, mortified.

"It's fine," he says, seemingly as uncomfortable as I am, now.

"No, it's not," I sigh. "I didn't mean to - it's just… I don't understand you at all." I tuck my hair behind one of my ears nervously, and tug on the hood of my hoodie.

He seems to sense my anxiousness, and he starts to walk next to me again, though he doesn't respond to my statement at all.

"I'll take the afternoon shift," he says instead.

I nod, but sigh again, this time out of my own frustration.

We don't speak for the rest of the way there, and when we arrive, we immediately split up. I open up the store, and Sam goes to greet the delivery men in the back.

Without really thinking about it, I go to prop open the Employees' Only door, and when Sam comes in - shirtless, once more - carrying two huge boxes, he pauses when he sees it open. I know he knows I opened it for him, and on his way back to get more boxes, he nods at me.

This gesture causes a jolting sensation in my stomach that is not altogether unpleasant. He crosses back and forth several times, and each time, he gives me a glance that sets my heart pounding. Between those almost constant butterflies and the frequent looks he keeps throwing my way, I am too aware of his presence by the time I am ready to go to lunch. I all but run out of the door, my face flushed, and recognize the feeling swelling up inside of me as guilt.

I take a deep breath. There is no reason for me to be feeling guilty. I haven't done anything.

As much as I try to repeat that, however, I know I didn't exactly discourage Sam's heated gazes and I chastise myself for it. When I go back at four, I know there is a noticeable difference in my demeanor. I will myself to not make the slightest bit of eye contact when I arrive and as he walks past the front counter to leave, I busy myself with straightening up things that are already in order. I'm not watching, but I can sense him hesitate in front of the counter. After about two seconds, he leaves without saying anything, and I feel an unexpected pit feeling in my stomach, as if I've done something very wrong.

I take a deep breath as the front door closes behind him, and force myself to push the feeling aside. It feels like that's all I've been doing lately.

Without Sam, the time passes almost excruciatingly slowly. It bothers me that he's taken my favorite summer pastime and transformed it into this place where I feel such a rollercoaster of emotions. It bothers me again that he can make me feel anything at all.

Closing time finally comes around and I shut off the lights exactly on the hour, having already cleaned the store twice so I would be ready to leave. I grab my bags, and the store keys and head towards the door.

Surprising me, it opens as I approach it.

"Sorry, we're closed. You'll have to come back to - " I start to say, but my voice disappears as I realize that it's Sam in the doorway… wearing a dark blue, fitted t-shirt that hugs his body like a second skin, and a pair of cut-off shorts. He's soaking wet, but he doesn't seem to notice, or care, as there isn't an umbrella anywhere on his person.

"You didn't waste any time," he says, with what I swear is a note of amusement, but his face expression is completely stoic.

It takes me a second to catch my breath. He's absolutely stunning without even trying. My stomach clenches.

"Sorry?" I force myself to say, as I have no clue what he's talking about.

"Nothing left to do. You cleaned up," he says, holding the door open as I walk through.

My eyes widen, and I open my umbrella. The downpour is unbelievable. There are mini-floods everywhere on the sidewalk and streets.

I look back at Sam, and once again search him visibly for an umbrella. Right. That's what I'm doing. I roll my eyes, internally, and remind myself to get a grip.

He closes the door behind us, and I hand him the keys so that he can lock up.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, suddenly, curiously.

"Walking you home," he says, turning to make eye-contact with me. At that moment, lightning flashes brightly in the sky behind him, and the resounding boom seems to vibrate through me. I shiver, and look away.

Walking me home? What does that mean? Why?

Part of me doesn't want to know the answer.

"We should get going," he says, gruffly, starting to walk ahead of me. I realize I didn't even say thank you.

We're walking for ten minutes - well, he's trudging, really, and I'm doing a jumping type thing trying (unsuccessfully) to avoid puddles/lakes and fallen tree branches; I'm soaking wet because the wind is blowing the rain every which way, and I completely understand why he didn't bother to bring an umbrella - when he turns to me and says, "My house is… closer than the Clearwater's. Let's go there. It's dangerous to be out here. I should've suggested we stay at the store. I'm sorry."

The relief that washes through me is instantaneous. It's soon followed immediately by a million other emotions that I don't care to identify.

"Good idea," I say, wearily. Fueled by the fact that I will be dry soon, I follow him with renewed energy. Fifteen minutes later we arrive at his house, and he gestures for me to go in ahead of him. I waste no time.

He comes in behind me and I hear the click of a light switch, but nothing happens.

"Shit," he says in a soft voice I'm sure I wasn't meant to hear. I can't help the smile that forms on my face and I'm glad he can't see it in the dark.

The dark… The reality of the situation suddenly hits home full force. I'm in Sam's house. In the dark. With him. Alone. This idea sinks in and my heart starts pounding madly. I will myself to calm down.

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" he asks, quietly, and I hear him move around me. My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, and I can sort of make out his silhouette.

"No, I'm fine," I say, glad that my voice sounds normal at least.

"I'll get you something to put on," he says, and disappears in the direction of his bedroom, I'm guessing.

Less than two minutes later, he's back, and hands me a towel and two items of clothing. "You can… change in my room. I'll stay here," he says, and I can hear the nervousness in his voice this time, only because I'm so attuned to that particular emotion at the moment.

"Okay," I manage to choke out, and I maneuver my way around him. Just when I'm wondering how I'm going to remember how to get to his room in the dark, my free hand is seized by one of his extremely large, extremely warm ones. I just barely hold back my gasp, and my heartbeat upgrades to triple time.

Without a word, he leads me to his room, where I see he has one candle burning on a dresser. It's not much, but it does allow me to see his face.

"It's the only one I could find," he says, a note of apology in his voice.

"It's fine," I reply, quickly. He's still holding my hand. He doesn't seem to notice until I gently pull out of his grasp.

"Sorry," he mutters, pulling back and out of the room. He shuts the door behind him before I can tell him it's okay. But this is probably a good thing.

Because it's way more than okay, and I'm not happy with myself for it.

I strip out of my wet clothes as quickly as possible, but I hesitate when I get to my bra and underwear. They, like my top clothes, are completely soaked through, but I don't want to take them off. Partly because I'm worried I might drop them on accident, and Leah might find them later, and partly because I don't want Sam to know that I don't have on any underclothing.

I reason with myself, though, that it won't make any sense to keep them on, and if I do, I'll probably catch a cold. I take them off, and quickly pull on Sam's clothes - a huge red t-shirt that I could wear as a dress, and sweatpants big enough for me to swim in. I'm not short, by any means, but these are cutoffs, and they still go down to midway between my ankles and knees. Thank goodness they have a drawstring.

My shoes and socks are wet as well, so I take them off, though there's really nothing I can do about them, but hope they dry quickly. I would ask to use his dryer, but with no power, that wouldn't work either.

I scrunch up my underwear and bra as best as I can and wrap them up in my wet clothing. I grab the candle with my other hand and attempt to make my way back towards the living room.

Sam is standing, leaning against a wall when I come into the room.

"I'll hang those up for you," he says, coming over and reaching out for my clothes.

"No, that's okay," I say, hastily. "If you can just show me where there's a hanger, I can do it myself."

He watches me for a second and I register my heart skipping a beat.

"Alright," he responds. He leads me back down the hallway to his bedroom, goes into his closet, and pulls out two plastic hangers.

"The bathroom is across the hall. I usually just hang wet clothes up on the shower curtain rod."

He waits with me, and unfortunately watches while I do it. I'm sure I look absolutely spastic in trying to hang my clothes up without him getting a glimpse of my panties and bra. Much to my relief, I manage to do it, but not without turning completely red in the process.

He has the candle, and he carries it as I trail him back down the hallway. A glimpse at the front windows tells me it's still pouring out, and I sigh.

He sets the candle down on the table, and sits on the couch. After a slight hesitation, I sit next to him, but he gets right back up again.

"Do you want anything? Like food… or water?" he asks.

"Oh, no. That's okay," I reply, shivering slightly.

"Are you cold?" he asks, and I shake my head, wondering at all of his concern.

"Thank you, though," I say, quietly, as he sinks back down on the couch. "For, you know, not letting me drown out there. This is really nice of you."

"Surprisingly nice, you mean?" he says, a bit sharply.

I flinch at the unexpected bit of venom in his voice.

He sighs. "Look, I'm sorry I've been such a jerk to you. You really don't deserve any of it. It's just that - "

" - You're going through a lot right now, and I'm not helping?" I say, intentionally throwing his own words back at him.

He pauses, then shakes his head. "You have no idea."

There's a thick silence for a moment, in which he stares in my direction, but doesn't appear to actually see me. I take the opportunity to study him, and once I get past the initial attractiveness, it really is obvious that there's a lot going on with him. There are heavy bags under his eyes, and dark circles around them. His hair has grown a little longer, so it's not exactly a buzz cut anymore. His overall appearance has gone from clean cut to unkempt.

Suddenly, it's no longer a wonder why Uncle Harry and Leah are both so worried about him all the time.

"Harry told me you needed a friend," I say, softly. Even still, the sound of my voice seems to startle him out of whatever thoughts he was so immersed in.

He looks up and directly into my eyes, causing me to lose my train of thought for a minute.

"Harry said that?" he asks, and I nod as I am currently unable to form words.

"Is it true?" I finally manage to respond, only after I pull my gaze away from his. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, I put my feet up on the couch and hug my knees to my chest.

He watches me closely as I fidget, then he finally looks away and says, "Probably."

Probably. Probably.

From that statement alone, something becomes crystal clear. This is a person to whom vulnerability and trust do not come easily at all. I try to convince myself that this is the only reason I say what I say next.

"Do you want to be friends, Sam?" I ask, softly, mentally bracing myself for rejection.

"Yes." He answers this time without any hesitation, and not just a tiny part of me is surprised.

"Really?" I blurt out.

He nods and I am graced with the presence of one of his rare smiles. Caught off guard, I can't help but smile back. And just like that, the entire mood in the room changes. I can practically feel the tension dissipating.

I look towards the windows once more, just a huge boom rocks the house. The storm isn't letting up any time soon.

"I should've called Harry and Sue from the store," I say, biting my lower lip. "They're probably worried sick. I don't have a cell phone or anything."

"Actually," he says, "I went over there earlier, and told Harry I'd walk you home myself. Sue hates driving in weather like this. So… they at least know you're with me."

"Oh, wow. Thank you. That was thoughtful." I smile at him again, and he smiles back, once again taking my breath away. This is getting a little ridiculous now. I will my body to stop reacting to him. He's just a guy, after all.

And a guy who is engaged to my cousin. And a guy who I've agreed to be friends with. Just friends. Only friends.

"It was nothing," he says, shrugging.

"Can I ask you something?" I blurt out.

He nods.

"Why is it that… I don't help… with whatever you're going through?" I ask.

I can see the visible changes in his demeanor. His posture instantly goes from relaxed to tense, and I silently berate myself for asking.

"You don't have to tell me," I attempt to backtrack. "It's okay… I just wondered. It just seems like - "

He interrupts me, his voice low and deep. "I know this is probably not what you want to hear, but it's physically impossible for me to stay away from you, Emily. I - " He cuts himself off, and runs a hand through his hair in what seems like frustration.

I feel a shiver pass through my body at this statement. Again, I reflect on the idea that we're alone. In his living room. In the dark. I send a silent apology to Leah for my thoughts.

"Maybe it's not a good idea that we be friends, then," I say, a boulder of disappointment dropping into my stomach at the thought.

"No, wait. I didn't mean it like that. It's just… being around you… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he says, his voice strained. And without warning, both of my hands are seized in his huge ones. He pulls them right up against his chest, effectively yanking me forward on the couch.

"This could be enough for me," he whispers. His voice sends tremors throughout my entire body.

I stifle a gasp. My heart stutters. I can't breathe. His chest is incredibly warm. I almost want to pitch forward and rest my head there. I wonder how he would react if my arms were to suddenly go around him and -

I jerk myself out of his grasp, and scoot as far away from him as I can. It isn't very far, though. The couch is only so long.

"What about Leah?" I whisper, utterly ashamed of myself.

He doesn't say anything.

"What about Leah?" I demand, a little louder.

"I… don't know," he mutters.

"I can't do this," I respond, mortified. "If that's… if that's what you want from me, I can't. I only agreed to be your friend."

"You really think we can be just that?" he asks softly, his face turned away from mine now.

"We don't have a choice," I say, firmly. "It's that or nothing. What you're asking me to do is… heinous. Leah's my cousin."

"But if we did have a choice?" he presses.

"Sam - " I start to say, shocked out of my mind.

"I haven't asked you to do anything," he says, cutting me off. "So, Emily, if friendship is all you want from me, then that's all I'll give you."

I blink at him. I don't know what to say. I'm not sure what's just happened here.

He smiles at me suddenly, causing my thoughts to scatter.

"The rain stopped," he says, turning to the window.

I look at where he's gazing. I didn't even notice. A pang of disappointment hits me.

"Ready for me to walk you home?" he asks, but for some reason I feel like he's asking so much more.

I hesitate. He notices.

"Or… you could stay," he murmurs.

"I'll go," I say, rising from the couch.

He sighs. "I'm not hitting on you. But, look, are you sure that's a good idea? You're wearing my clothes. Leah will notice."

"We haven't done anything," I say, looking away from him. "There's nothing to feel guilty about. Leah will understand."

"This is Leah we're talking about," he says, raising his eyebrows.

"Is the power back on?" I ask. "Maybe I could use your washer and dryer."

He immediately rises and tries the light switch. Nothing. I sigh.

"I'll stay just until the power comes back on," I say, knowing he's absolutely right. If Leah sees me wearing his clothes, she will go crazy.

As we settle back down and our conversation moves on to random things, I try to convince myself that the power problem is the only reason I've decided to stay.

- FadingSlowly