chapter 9: earthbound

…you give me time to be what i can be

you're never ahead, never behind me

so i stay here 'til waking hours

tell me, how do you make everything feel a little easier?

so i stay here 'til waking hours

who could ever be this good to me?

i just can't help but wonder

The typical Olympic Peninsula downpour extinguished the hot mess that Leah instigated tonight. In Sam's Subaru, heavy raindrops crashed against the rooftop and raced each other down the windows. The exiled prom pairing sat at the gas station near the borderline between La Push and Forks. He had pulled over to get a cup of ice and napkins so Leah could tend to her knuckles—the soreness had only kicked in once the adrenaline wore off.

The rain served as the only sound between them. Leah didn't often run out of words to say, so the quietness weighed on her. Part of her wanted to break the tension, just to get rid of the uncomfortable radio silence that accompanied all the guilt.

She didn't harbor a single ounce of regret over punching Joseph in the face—the smug dickhead deserved a broken nose after all the bullshit he'd put Emily through today alone. No, Leah's guilt ran far deeper than Joseph. And the remorse only hit her when she glanced over at her date. Sam looked beyond dreamy tonight, the sexiest she'd ever seen him, clad in a nice suit that he'd worked countless hours to buy just for tonight, and she felt like a complete and utter asshole for getting him kicked out of prom. If she were to open up a dictionary and look up the word asshole, she would find a picture of herself.

They'd made it to Prom '05, the clock hadn't even hit 8:15 yet, and instead of celebrating with their schoolmates, they sat here in his car, all dressed up in their formalwear with no place to dance.

It was official: Leah had run out of proms to ruin for Sam—a new record. Last year, prom itself had been a success, even if she had called him corny (a quality of his that she had grown to love and appreciate). It was the prom after-party that she'd screwed up. She'd smacked her head against a chandelier in an attempt to show off her dance moves, possessed by the jungle juice. This year, prom itself turned out to be a complete disaster, and she didn't have the slightest clue as to how to make up for it. Somewhere among the plinking of raindrops, she could hear the universe laughing at her.

"Even though I blew up your senior prom night, you're taking it pretty well," she finally said.

"You didn't blow up my prom night," he told her.

She gave him a look that said, Be serious. "You don't have to pretend like it's all good."

"Are you all good?" he countered. "Shit got pretty serious back there."

"Me and Em haven't fought like that since middle school," Leah murmured, shaking her head. "And she's never cussed me out like that before. I didn't even think she knew the word fuck until tonight."

"Yeah, that was intense. How long did it take you guys to make up last time you had a big fight?"

She glanced down at the bruised knuckles on her right hand. "Like three days, but most of our fights end with her sleeping it off, baking something in the morning, and then calling me back so I can say I'm sorry. It was never that serious. Well, 'til now."

He nodded. She took it as her cue to keep going.

"It's just bullshit that she's so mad at me," she ranted as the makeshift ice pack dripped onto her dress. She gave into the urge to roll her eyes, growing vexed with the situation all over again. "I basically did her a favor, you know? And she's trippin' if she thought I was just gonna stand there and do nothing after seeing her crying her eyes out in the bathroom like that. But no, I'm the sociopath for actually doing something about it. And, oh my god, did you see the way she jumped back from me earlier? She was acting like I was a freaking monster or, like, Michael Myers!"

He reached over to rub the tension out of her neck. She instinctively shut her eyes at the tender touch and let out a tiny sigh.

"You're not a monster, Lee-Lee," he began. "Yeah, you're hella protective and can come off strong, but that doesn't make you a monster."

She cut him off, peering up at him with apologetic eyes. "Sam, I got us kicked out before we could even get a slow dance. I think that's pretty horrible."

"So? We don't need a prom to slow dance."

She furrowed her brows. "You know, I'd appreciate it if you just let me be the bad guy this time. I can't always be the polite, perfect girlfriend."

"Baby, I never asked you to be perfect," he assured her. "But fine. You screwed up. We got kicked out of prom and Em went home. Now what?"

She blinked, having not even considered the now what. She met his hand at her neck with her own, tracing her thumbs over his knuckles. "Are we still going to your place?"

"If you're down, I'm down," he answered, his tone earnest.

"And are you sure you wanna be all alone with me?" she challenged him. "I've already injured one guy today, so I get it if you're scared."

"Who's scared?" He whipped his head side-to-side. "Me? That actually kinda turned me on."

That caught her off guard, but she cracked a smile for the first time all night. "You know you're a freak, right?"

"Only for you," he promised with a laugh.

"God, if only I'd known that my act of violence was such a turn-on," she joked. "I would've dropped out to go be a WWE Diva so long ago."

"It's not too late. But are you hungry or what?"

"Starving."

Sam started up the car and the engine purred to life. "Me too. Let's get outta here before Home Slice closes."

"Don't gotta ask me twice."

Once Leah and Sam returned to his empty house in La Push, equipped with her overnight bag and a take-n-bake pepperoni and mushroom pizza to share, she found that being booted from prom early had one plus: She got even more alone time with her heartthrob.

"You should get more comfortable," he told her after reaching across the stove to preheat the oven.

She smirked, her gaze stuck on him as she propped herself against the living room wall and slipped off her sandals. "I could tell you the same thing. You've got a whole suit on."

"Don't worry about all that." He made his way from the kitchen to the living room and then took off his jacket and tie, discarding them onto the couch. "I'm working on it."

The familiar parched sensation that had choked her up earlier tonight made a fierce return, scorching her throat all over again. Only one thing could quench it, and that one thing stood across from her in the living room, practically stripping her down with his eyes. She'd spent the beginning of the night (in addition to several months prior) waiting for a night just like this, and with all the right conditions, but now that she'd made it, she had no clue how to proceed.

He broke the tension with a disarming smile. "Seriously, though, go get comfortable. I need to grab some stuff from the car. The bathroom's down the hall, but you already knew that."

She nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. "Okay."

In the hallway bathroom, Leah set her bag, a repurposed gym duffel, on the counter and assessed its contents: Hairbrush, toothbrush, deodorant, nightlight, her coveted body fragrance and lotion for special occasions, an outfit for tomorrow, her CD player (with exactly one CD) and headphones for the long bus ride to Neah Bay, condoms (Thanks, Ma!), and pajamas—actually, no, just pajama bottoms. Somehow, she'd remembered everything but a shirt. Get it together, Leah.

The washer and dryer set directly faced the bathroom, across the hallway, so Leah ducked out to see if she'd have any luck there. When she opened the dryer door, she found a semi-warm heap of Sam's laundry and grabbed the first thing she touched—his soft, faded National Honor Society t-shirt. He'd quit the club so long ago to fit in more hours at work into his schedule that she'd forgotten he'd been a member at all. She could only assume that he wouldn't miss the shirt. She didn't plan to keep it on long, anyway. His familiar scent permeated her sense of smell when she slipped it on, and she felt more at home.

Semi-frantic, she finished dressing down and started freshening up. Her eyes never left the mirror as she scrubbed her teeth and brushed out her hair and removed her dangly earrings and corsage and ensured that she smelled as dainty as humanly possible. She'd gotten up close and personal with her reflection, attempting to pop a tiny yet glaringly noticeable zit on her cheek, when the oven went off with a long, shrill beep and broke her concentration.

She blinked and stepped back from her reflection. The oven had spoken—it must have been her signal. Besides, the pimple wasn't going anywhere despite her best efforts, and she couldn't hold still enough to focus. Her nerves competed with her antsy exuberance, yet she knew in her bones that Sam could put her at ease—despite him also being the cause of her unhinged excitement.

She left the mirror behind and found him in the kitchen, already dressed down in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Looks like it's hot and ready," he said as he opened the oven.

That seems to be tonight's theme. "Yeah, the oven too."

He placed the pizza on the rack and slid it back before closing the oven door. "You look cute," he said, taking in her half-borrowed attire. "The shirt really brings out your scholarliness."

"What, this old thing?" she asked with a silly smile, gesturing to the top. "You look cute yourself. How long's it gonna take for the pizza to finish?"

He turned to set the timer. "Thanks for reminding me. It'll be fifteen minutes." And then, without skipping a beat, he opened a cabinet door next to him, presenting her with a bouquet of a dozen bright, yellow sunflowers, wrapped with brown craft paper and twine. "But first, these are for you."

"Oh my god," she gasped. "Are you serious right now?"

"You know I had to get my favorite person her favorite flowers."

She held the bouquet in her arms, shutting her eyes as she took in the faint, earthy aroma of the plants. "Thank you." They reminded her of summer, and summer reminded her of Sam, and now Sam reminded her of sunflowers. Thank you thank you thank you.

Something hard clattered to the floor. She turned to set the flowers down on the kitchen table, but Sam grabbed the CD before she could. "My bad," he said, handing it to her. "I thought it'd be cute to put it together with the flowers, like in that one movie you like, but that only really works with cassette tapes and nobody uses those anymore."

The clear case revealed a single CD. Written on the disk itself in Sam's neat handwriting, and in black Sharpie, it read: Songs 4 Lee-Lee, Vol. 1.

She looked up at him and flashed him a dimpled grin. "Volume one?"

"I was hoping making mixtapes could be our new thing," he admitted. "I mean, as long as you like it."

"Please tell me your boombox still works."

While they waited for the pizza to finish baking, and then over a couple of slices, they set up his stereo on the end of the kitchen table and listened to Songs 4 Lee-Lee from start to finish.

"I like how all the songs flow together," she told him a few songs into the mixtape. "You're amazing."

"Aw, thanks, baby," he beamed. "Jared gave me some tips on the sequencing. I'm glad you like it."

"I love it, and I love you." She reached across the small table to join her hand to his. "Like, real bad." So bad that it's taking me everything not to knock all this shit off the table just to kiss you.

He gave her hand a warm squeeze. "I love you real bad too."

Sometime in the middle of the CD, after they'd finished eating, Sam rinsed and set their plates in the sink and returned to the table, but he didn't sit back down.

Instead, he held his hand out to her. "Wanna dance?" he asked. "It's no Casino Royale but we can still make it work."

As if I could even say no.

In the kitchen, they danced along to the music until the mixtape reached its final track, as he informed her—their slow song. She likened it to endless summer nights and Sam and, now, sunflowers. She'd listened to the song only a million more times since last year's prom, the last instance that they'd officially slowed danced to it. But now, as the two of them lazily glided along the kitchen floor in their pajamas, the warm guitar riffs and vocals like honey sounded as fresh to her ears as the very first time she'd heard it on the radio.

"I guess you're right," she admitted. Their bodies pressed together so closely that she wondered if he could feel her heart leaping out of her skin. "We don't really need a prom to slow dance."

He pulled her in even closer, his hands securely on her hips as they swayed. "I tried to tell you."

"I know, I know," she hummed into his chest.

She couldn't fight him this time; she didn't have the ammunition for it. He'd done everything right. Even when the universe did what it does, she realized, Sam remained consistent and solid. Even when she had numerous wrenches thrown in her allegedly foolproof plans, he had her back, through and through. For all the uncertainties she faced, she had his unwavering loyalty to keep the balance. She couldn't imagine navigating her day-to-day without him.

"Your dancing's gotten better since last year," she commented as they spun in a slow circle. She tried to keep the conversation light to compensate for all the feelings she held inside, threatening more and more to burst from her chest with each passing minute.

He smirked. "So you've noticed?"

"I'm not gonna lie and say you couldn't dance before," she replied. "I know I helped you out, though."

"You can take some credit. But I'm just trying to keep my promise." A familiar glint of desire flashed across his eyes as they darted to her lips and then met her eyes again. "Dancing, romancing, all that good shit."

She squeezed the muscles in his shoulders. "Yeah, you've been putting the moves on me all night, so I'd say you've kept your promise." She paused before adding, "Sorta."

"Sorta?"

"Yeah."

"For real?" he asked her, his voice low as his hands went lower. "I told you to give me a couple hours."

"It's been a couple hours."

"C'mere, then." And then, finally, he leaned in. She parted her lips to meet him in the middle.

Another perk of being booted from prom early? No chaperones.

If they had endless alone time like this, she would have kissed Sam all night and into the waking hours. She would have kissed him as the mixtape played on an infinite repeat, until the Songs 4 Lee-Lee CD started skipping. She would have kissed him until the sky brightened from deep blue to baby blue, and until the sounds of birds singing replaced the crickets chirping. But they just didn't have endless alone time.

The final song had long faded out when Sam pulled his mouth away from hers so he could breathe.

Leah's eyes fluttered open and she took a breath herself, but he didn't immediately resume kissing her. "What's on your mind?" she then asked him.

"I wanna show you something."

She glanced down between them before returning to his eyes with a flirtatious smile. "I already know what it looks like."

"No, big head," he said with an eye roll, nudging her shoulder. "C'mon."

Slightly confused but not questioning it, she let him lead her to his bedroom, turning off the kitchen lights on their way out.

Once they entered his room, he shut the door behind them but didn't immediately turn on the light. A streak of anxiety that she knew all too well dashed through her mind, still perceptible under her current state of frenzy. Before she could protest, she heard a click, and a soft, cozy glow illuminated the bedroom.

Atmospheric string lights hung across the ceiling, making the room bright enough for her to feel protected and keep her anxiety at bay, but also dim enough to still feel intimate. He didn't bother with the awkward ceiling lighting that had plagued them the last time she'd spent the night here, and it made all the difference. The space had transformed from a mere bedroom into a sanctuary.

"So this is an upgrade," she marveled as she lounged on his neatly folded comforter. She leaned back against his pillows and folded her legs in. "We're not gonna need my nightlight, after all."

"It's not too bright, is it?" he asked her.

"No, it's perfect. You've officially put all the moves on me." She beckoned him to join her.

He sat beside her on his bed, mirroring her relaxed demeanor as he interlaced his hands to hers. He set them in her lap and looked at her with sincere eyes. "This isn't about putting the moves on you, though," he clarified. "It's not just about sex or any of that. I wanted to make sure that you feel as safe as possible, no matter what we get into tonight. And we can go at whatever pace you want, Lee-Lee. I promise."

She had no doubt in him. She never did.

"I feel safe," she assured him. "Do you feel safe?"

"Oh, I've seen that right hook," he joked. "I know you'll keep my ass safe."

She rolled her eyes at him before her face softened into a playful expression with a grin to match. "Good," she replied, rubbing her thumbs against the side of his hands.

"No, but for real," he said. "I know I'm not the best with words, and we struggled with that this year, but I just want you to know that you're my everything and then some, Lee-Lee. You're the last person I think of when I'm falling asleep, and you're the first person I think of when I wake up. Nobody else does that for me.

"Four years ago," he continued, "I would've never thought I'd feel this way about anyone, but being around you just feels right. When you're around me, I feel like I can just be myself. When you're not around me, all I can think of is the next time I get to see your pretty-ass face again. I mean, you're the kind of beautiful that people write songs about. But besides the fact that you're fine as hell, you've become a part of me, and I can't imagine doing any of this without you. I don't want to.

"I know you can be hard on yourself, like when you're blaming yourself for something or calling yourself an asshole, but you're the most caring person I've ever met. I know your heart because I've seen it. All I'm asking is that you see my heart too, because—and I'm aware that this sounds hella corny—it's yours. I'm all yours, Leah." He took a deep breath. "So, yeah, even though we've said those three words before, I just wanted to say them again, out loud. I love you—more than you'll ever know."

He punctuated his confession by kissing her hands, and everything shifted into perspective.

She wanted to cry almost as badly as she wanted to smash.

Sam had spent all night—all year—showing her exactly how much he cared, and the depths had never looked clearer than now. Underneath it all, he still saw the real her. He saw past the sarcasm, the stubbornness, the occasional impulsivity… and he still loved her. Despite her headstrong way of walking the earth, he still chose to walk beside her, always meeting her wherever she stood.

Almost more than anything, she wished she could find a way into his mind and see her from his unique perspective. She wished she could see the big deal in her the way that he did. But until then, she'd just have to believe him.

She blinked, and a couple of stray tears slipped from her eyes.

"Sorry about that," he said, reaching to wipe them from her cheek. "I know that was a lot, but I just had to get it off my chest."

"No, it's okay." More tears fell as she shook her head. "I love you so much, Samson. Literally more than anyone in the whole freaking world. It's just that you do so much for me. I feel like I can't give you anything but love and my word. How am I supposed to even keep up?"

"It's not about keeping up, or keeping score, or any of that. Your love and your word is all I've ever wanted from you, baby."

She wiped at her eyes again and sniffled. "For real?"

"For real."

Leah peered down at their hands, still interlocked in her lap. Slowly, she raised them and extended her fingers. He followed so their palms lied flat against each other between them. When the heels of their hands met at the bottom, she couldn't help but notice the vertical space between each of their ten fingertips.

"Your hands are so much bigger than mine," she mused. "I never really noticed that before."

"Yeah, they're less clammy too."

She raised her eyebrows. "Clammy?"

"It's okay to say I make you a little nervous," he told her, a pleased smile on his lips. "Hot and bothered. All of that."

And you're right. "Says the guy who runs at a hundred degrees on the daily," she countered. "How do we know that you're not the nervous one?"

"I can show you better than I can tell you." He paused for a long moment before adding, "And besides, you know what they say about big hands."

"Shut up," she giggled.

Under the twinkling lights, Sam's face alone looked divine. She used the camera in her head to photograph her heavenly muse. Dark, hooded eyes that tapped into her soul and gave her a glimpse of his… click. A beautifully centered nose with a wide bridge to match… click. Delectable lips, made for her to taste… click. A sturdy jaw that would serve as the perfect seat… click. The gods had taken their time with him.

They shared another second of ear-splitting silence before he leaned forward to close the gap between them.

This kiss started out differently from the other ones that they had shared tonight. They didn't hold back or play coy. Every kiss delved deeper than the one prior at a rapid speed. Hot and bothered quickly became an understatement, and he hadn't even gotten her naked yet. All the feelings that Leah kept caged in her chest up until now combusted as she channeled them into every new interaction, and he returned the energy.

Every one of his touches worked together in a combination of dizzyingly amorous and torturously slow, all with the sole purpose of driving her wild. He made her heart throb in at least three different places. Each new movement sent heat rushing through her body from the depth of her stomach to her chest to her fingertips to her lips. And she knew that she had the same effect on him. He shuddered when she raked her nails along his firm triceps and shivered when her teeth grazed the edge of his ear, but it had nothing to do with any coldness.

Sam's lips and tongue and hands all felt scorching to her touch, but she refused to pull away. Her wildfire remained ablaze. And as they went from vertical to horizontal, finally shedding all the layers that separated them, she let the flames consume her.

To hell with it.

Leah awakened to the enduring glow of the string lights hanging above her. So many mornings in the past had primed her for the heart palpitations, the goosebumps, the tightness in her throat, but the sensations didn't take over now. She and her waking anxiety went together like a pair of longtime best friends with major boundary issues, but the anxiety didn't rear its ugly head this morning.

Then the revelation washed over her: She couldn't feel safer.

In a tangle of long, brown limbs, she clung to Sam like how she'd cling to her comforter on a chilly November morning, except he provided much more warmth to her than any blanket. The way his solid arms wrapped around her made her wish that she could pack up her things and go live in his skin. The contours of their bodies aligned perfectly; if she had it her way, she would spoon with him, blissfully lost in his essence, until the day that heavens fell from the sky. Then she'd continue for a day after that too.

She felt him stirring behind her, and he let out a content sigh in her disheveled hair. Or maybe it was his own hair. Sometime in the night, they had blurred the boundaries and shifted into one panting, pleading, perspiring shape. She rolled onto her other side so she could face him, starting to feel the raw tenderness in her legs. Well aware that she'd experience the full extent of her sore muscles once she willed herself to leave this bed, she wondered if he also felt sore.

He propped himself up on an elbow and held his head up. With his free arm, he wrapped himself around her again and started kneading the soft skin of her back. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"Hey, you," she whispered back, brushing her legs against his. "How'd you sleep?"

He met her gaze with sleepy eyes. "Like a rock."

"I bet," she replied. "I thought you died for a second until I heard you snoring."

"I can think of a few worse ways to go," he chuckled.

She pulled herself in closer to give him a kiss, slow and sweet like molasses. "I'm glad you didn't die," she said. "That would've sucked."

He returned the kiss, leaving her lightheaded. "You wore me the hell out, Lee-Lee, but I'm not complaining." His eyes started drooping shut, but a peaceful smile remained on his lips. He looked like heaven—she wished he could exist in this state of tranquility all the time.

"My bad." Her airy giggle turned into a yawn. She could already feel herself floating away again. "You kept your promise, though. You really put in work, especially that last time."

"Told you I would." He spoke again after a few seconds of stillness. "Leah?"

Last night, every last utterance of her name had sounded sacred, even following profanities. It still sounded sacred coming from him now. "Yeah?"

"I could do this with you forever," he crooned, tracing up and down her spine with his warm fingers. His voice got sleepier as he added, "And ever and ever."

"Mmm." She meant to say Me too, but she couldn't get the words out as she drifted back to sleep in his snug embrace.

Once the gray daylight began peeking into the bedroom through the blinds, adding to the artificial lights already illuminating the space, Leah had to will herself to get out of the bed. Sam followed her due to his stomach growling. While he went to the kitchen, Leah retreated to the bathroom with minimal waddling. The muscles of her lower body still ached, but not even half as badly as she'd anticipated.

In the mirror, she assessed the image that stared back at her. On the outside, everything looked more or less the same. She still had the same eyes, the same nose, the same lips, the same zit on her cheek (ugh). She donned a new hickey or three, but that came with the territory. Nothing on her surface revealed how different her internal landscape looked.

A tidal wave of flashbacks flooded her mind, abundant and all-consuming.

The cosmos must have realigned just for her and Sam in the last twelve hours. All her nerves had been rendered futile. During the more impassioned moments as well as the breathless interludes, he made sure to proceed at her pace, just like he'd promised. He'd never rushed ahead or fell behind. He'd kept her earthbound with all his possessive grasps of her waist, her hips, everywhere, but she could still feel the aftershocks of the planet moving beneath them.

When she looked at her own reflection, Leah didn't resemble a brand-new person, and, despite feeling so different, she didn't feel exactly brand-new, either. The fondness and security that she'd awoken with today already lived inside of her—she didn't have to go anywhere else or be anybody else to find them. So maybe she had discovered the best outcome of all: She felt like her, but better (and also no longer a virgin).

She walked into the kitchen to find Sam leaning against the counter, casually inhaling a slice of leftover pizza.

She reached past him to grab a plate from the cupboard. "You like cold pizza?" she asked, surprised. She put her serving of leftovers on the plate and in the microwave. The appliance started humming once she hit the one minute button.

"What, you don't?" he retorted in between bites.

She shot him a playful smirk. "Nah, I'm not a weirdo."

"I think a good eighty-five percent of the entire country and probably half of Italy would disagree with you on that one." He finished the slice. "Besides, I've seen you put hot sauce on salmon before with my own two eyes, so I'm not trying to hear it."

She rolled her eyes, but before she could defend her perfectly normal food preferences, the telephone rang. Sam briefly glanced at the Caller ID before grabbing another slice of cold pizza and sitting down at the table.

When Leah finished nuking her food, she joined him. The sunflowers now stood in the center of the table, in a vase of water. Sam must have moved them earlier. "Who is it?" she asked as the phone continued to ring.

"I think it's my job, but I already got the whole weekend off. Owen can talk to the answering machine, for all I care." The phone stopped ringing, but it didn't end in a voicemail.

The telephone rang again. Sam let it go on—no answer, no voicemail. When the same caller rang a third time, he then got up to answer it. "Hello?" he said. "Yeah, this is him… Oh, hey, Owen. I'm doing alright… Wait, but I'm not on the schedule for this weekend…"

Leah tried not to get too bummed out as she ate her pizza and listened to the one-sided conversation. So much for alone time.

"And you're sure that nobody else can come in?" he asked into the phone. "I'm sorry, it's just that my hands are kinda tied right now, and I took the whole weekend off…" He let out a sharp sigh. "Okay. Sure. I can be there in a little over an hour… Yup… Yeah, no problem."

When he hung up the phone, his disappointed expression said it all. "So that was my boss."

"And he called you into work," she finished.

"Sure did," he said. "I'm so sorry, Lee-Lee. I triple-checked the schedule when it came out to make sure I wasn't on it, and I'm not, but apparently nobody else in my department can come in today."

"Well, it was fun while it lasted," she deadpanned.

"When I was thinking about how this weekend would go, this wasn't part of it. I just had the best night of my life and now I've gotta go work for some bald-ass white dude."

"The best night of your life?" she teased him. "I already knew I was all that, but now you've got me feeling extra special."

He smiled back at her. "Whatever you say, big head. I'm about to hop in the shower, if you wanna join me. You know, to conserve water."

"We've only got, like, an hour, right?" She stood up from the table. "I guess we better start saving the planet, then."

By the time they'd cleaned up and gotten ready for the day, Leah and Sam were running a few minutes behind. Thanks to his distractions (though she had no complaints about it), she'd completely forgotten about the infrequent Sunday bus schedules.

Almost out the front door, she turned around when she remembered to call her cousin. Enough cooldown had passed since their fight. Emily had gotten the chance to sleep and decompress. Leah figured that she'd feel much better about the situation by now since they had a track record of not being angry with each other for long.

But when she called Emily's cell, the line rang and rang, and she didn't get an answer. She called again, waited, and… still nothing. When she called a third time, the line rang once before shooting her off to voicemail.

"At least she's awake." She gave up, not even bothering to leave a message at the tone—her cousin clearly didn't want to hear from her.

She and Emily had survived too many little squabbles in the last seventeen years for them to not work things out now, in the aftermath of a bigger fight. Begging for forgiveness always prevailed over asking for permission when it came to her cousin. And, above all, what kind of business did Leah have ruining her own weekend? Compromising her post-prom alibi and then getting grounded by her parents until her 21st birthday as a result of that compromised alibi had no place in her agenda. Emily would see her today, whether she picked up her phone or not. She left Sam's phone alone and grabbed her bag so they could leave.

Leah and Sam emerged from the snuggly, luminous sanctuary of his house and out into the real world. A drizzly, gray sky loomed above them. Another beautiful day in La Push.

As they drove down the road, past Billy's house at the end of the street, she couldn't help but reminisce on last year. The morning after last year's prom, the weather had been exactly the same, but she still couldn't ignore the stark differences. She remembered trekking to the rez bus stop with her fortress, her girl group. She remembered hauling a backpack full of textbooks and a lethal hangover, starved for hash browns and a debrief of the night before.

The twins felt further away than ever now. They could have resided in another galaxy with how much Leah missed them.

It didn't take long for her and Sam to get to the Forks Transit Center, but she wished it had. He'd held her hand the entire drive, but now he clutched it with more intention as he pulled into a spot at the bus station and put the car in park.

His eyes met hers in a gaze so soft and lovely she wished she could dive into it. "I've had a really nice time with you this weekend, Lee-Lee."

She nodded her head, bringing her free hand up to trace his jaw. "I did too, baby. Thanks for still wanting to spend time with me after everything."

"I'm sorry again that it was cut short," he told her. "I can never get enough time with you."

Back at ya didn't even cover it. She planted a kiss on his lips to tell him that she reciprocated the sentiment. He didn't need to be a mind reader to know.

"I'll swing by your house after work to drop off the flowers," he promised her once they separated.

"Okay," she said. "I'll call you."

She grabbed her gym duffel and exited the car, but before she could shut the door, he leaned into the now empty passenger seat. "Love you real bad," he told her.

Her dimple showed when she said, "Love you real bad too."

With only a handful of minutes to spare, Leah caught the next bus from Forks to Neah Bay. She found an empty seat in the middle of the bus and curled up the best that she could with her long legs. Feeling tingly and a little sore and like her but better, she loaded Songs 4 Lee-Lee, Vol. 1 into her CD player and put in her earbuds.

Somewhere in the beginning of the tracklist, a couple of tears escaped from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. She had no idea why. She felt like sunshine on the inside, despite the usual weather engulfing Forks and La Push and probably Neah Bay too.

No, Leah felt stronger than sunshine; she felt like the whole damn ecosystem. She had so much love growing inside of her that she wanted to see it prosper, not cut it out like weeds. The orchard in her heart sprouted so generously that she wanted to keep watering it. She wanted to see it photosynthesize and bathe in her rays.

But until then, she'd just let it bloom.

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable media or chraracters mentioned here. All historical and cultural aspects of the Quileute tribe belong to them.