Chapter 11 – Heartbeat

Am I alone in your heart?
Have I a hope with your heart?
She's such a teaser, she's such a star
Give me a reason, or give me a chance

Doing all I can do, just to be close to you
Every time that we meet, I skip a heartbeat
Always up for a laugh, she's a pain in the arse
Every time that we meet, I skip a heartbeat

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Janey teased as Sam went to close his bedroom door.

Sam blushed, hesitated, scowled, and then slammed the door with such a definitive thud that the frame actually rattled. Everybody downstairs must have heard it. Even more aggressively, he then took out his wand, aimed it at the handle, and angrily muttered, "Colloportus."

Janey just raised her eyebrows from the centre of the room, amused by his behaviour. "Goodness, Sam," she drawled in somewhat of a sultry voice, "what are you planning on doing to me?"

"Stop it," he said, turning to glare at her with an irritable expression. He pocketed his wand. "It's not funny."

"It is funny," Janey countered.

"No, it's embarrassing. It's—it's mortifying! I don't want my mum to think that…" But he couldn't even say it.

Naïve and flustered as he was, Janey found it endearing. "Yeah?" she asked, looking pointedly at the door that Sam had slammed and then locked with magic. "And you really think this was the best course of action to dissuade such speculations?"

Sam frowned. "Everybody is just… overreacting," he said furiously. "And if they want to, err, assume things that are"—he gulped—"far from the truth, then that's their fault. And I'm not even going to argue. It's just stupid and… and immature."

Janey was desperately trying not to snigger at Sam's growing aggravation. Why was he so desperately averse to the idea that his family thought she and him were in such an adult relationship? Insecurity, she wondered. Maybe it was Sam. Maybe he was so terrified by the implications because he was terrified of the prospect.

How endearing, Janey mused internally. And how startlingly different that set her and Sam apart. One scared of a physical commitment, longing for romance and emotional stability. The other terrified of that emotional commitment and perfectly indifferent to the physical progression.

If there had ever been a sign of how completely opposed to each other this couple was, that should have been it, but Janey pushed it aside. All relationships were complicated—no one was completely perfect for any one person.

Janey wasn't sure why Sam had brought her so hurriedly up to his bedroom again after dessert, especially given what had happened the first time. Janey had gone with him politely, but she couldn't pretend she hadn't seen Mrs Tyler's nervous and speculative gaze flicker towards them as they departed.

At first, she had considered it was for her own sake. Sam, bless his heart, had been doing all he could to make Janey feel at ease in the Tyler household—to make her feel comfortable and welcome—and she truly did. She was still greatly nervous, of course, but she was coping. He had known how huge a step it was for her, and having been the one to push her, wanted to make it worthwhile. Janey had assumed his hurry to isolate her from his family had been to give her space to breathe—to relax and compose herself.

But now, she wasn't so sure. Perhaps, really, it had been for his sake. Sam did look incredibly nervous, and every little thing was setting him on edge. Was that just because he was worked up from his mum's misunderstanding? Did the thought of a physical relationship—(with Janey? at the ripe age of seventeen?)—really scare him so much?

Or, maybe, it had nothing to do with that. Maybe, like Janey, it was the seriousness of bringing a girl home to his family for the first time. Maybe it was because of his stepsister's constant jibes, or even Janey's gentle teasing. Maybe he just needed space for himself.

Or with Janey.

Maybe, after three days of separation, he just wanted to be alone with her for a bit, even in the most innocent of contexts. They were still fresh in their relationship, after all—they needed time alone, still exploring, still getting to know each other.

Janey smiled at Sam, trying to put him at ease. What a humorous turn-around. "So," she said playfully, "now that you've got me here, what do you want to do with me? Lightsaber battle?" she teased, picking up a cheap, broken replica.

Sam's serious expression hadn't changed, not even breaking into a gentle smile at Janey's comment. He visibly gulped. "Do you want to lie down?" he suggested after a moment's hesitation, full of tentativeness.

Janey was so shocked that she nearly dropped the lightsaber. She blushed as she turned away from Sam, hurriedly putting it back where it had come from and desperately trying to figure out what had just been asked of her.

Had she imagined that, or had Sam, in all seriousness, just suggested they lie down? As in, on his bed together?

Is that what had happened? Had she misheard? Was she just misunderstanding?

Janey looked back at Sam for some kind of elaboration, or for him to burst into laughter and announce it was a joke. But he looked just as serious, and just as nervous, as before. Janey's mind went into sudden turmoil. Sam had just been freaking out at the mere implication of him and Janey being 'that' kind of intimate in their so far pretty reserved relationship, making it perfectly clear it was putting him well out of his comfort zone.

Everything in Sam's expression let Janey know that his feelings hadn't changed. He hadn't been overcome by some wild lust or something. He still looked as nervous and on edge as before.

Janey felt her cheeks burn hot again. Sam hadn't asked her to sleep with him, she realised. He'd merely asked if she wanted to lie down—it was her own mind jumping to conclusions.

"Yeah, sure," she forced herself to say in a confident and casual manner. No big deal, she thought to herself. Just hanging out, lying down with her boyfriend on his bed.

It was logical, she even reasoned with herself. There wasn't anywhere to sit in Sam's room—other than the bunk bed. And, as proven from before, he was too tall to comfortably sit on it. Why not lie down?

Innocent—that's all that was. Janey had been overthinking it.

But then why did Sam look so nervous? And why had he locked the door?

Janey was not frightened of intimacy. That was the thought in her mind as she confidently ducked down onto the lower bunk, not wanting Sam to think she might think of it as a big deal. No, she wasn't afraid of physical intimacy—just emotional.

Sam had not realised how small his bed was—barely wider than his one at Hogwarts—as he settled onto it, Janey moving over to make as much room for him as she could. She looked remarkably calm for what Sam had just suggested, he thought.

And he was angry at himself. He had realised, only when the words had left his lips, what a weird thing it had been to say, especially considering what Sam's mother had so readily assumed had been going on earlier, and no doubt what she was thinking just then.

It had just been too much for Sam. His family was so overbearing, and he'd felt too under scrutiny, just wanting some time with Janey alone. Kayleigh was irritating him, constantly making jibes and trying to undermine him, and Zoe's innocent confusion of which girl Janey was (out of Rose, Isabella, and obviously Janey herself) was starting to make him uncomfortable—for Janey's sake.

Sam hadn't realised the implications of what he was asking of Janey until after the words had been spoken aloud. After all that humiliating back-and-forth, both with Kayleigh and Janey, about, well, intimacy, it hadn't crossed his mind that his abrupt suggestion that he and Janey lie down might have come across as… suggestive. Especially given that it was now clearly on all their minds.

He hadn't been implying anything less than innocent.

Well, you know, not that much. He'd been hoping to finish that short-lived snog they'd started earlier, which Kayleigh had so rudely (and painfully) interrupted—hence why he'd locked the door. And he'd just thought it might be more comfortable to lie down rather than sit at that awkward angle.

But Sam realised now, how it might have come across to Janey. And he was mortified.

And yet, she seemed to be fine with it, he thought suspiciously. Maybe he was overthinking it all, and she hadn't even considered what he feared she'd been thinking he had implied. Or, maybe, it just wasn't that big a deal to her as it apparently was to him. Either way, Sam had suggested it, she was willing, and he wasn't going to backtrack now.

Sam found himself less nervous settling onto the tiny mattress beside Janey than he had done on that night in the Gryffindor Common Room where she'd taken him by surprise by asking if she could sit with him in the armchair. They hadn't even been dating back then, Sam thought with a fond smile. It had all been so new and terrifyingly exciting. And now, lying peacefully on the bed with her, so close that their noses were practically touching, staring deep into each other's eyes and sharing that same fond smile, Sam fully appreciated how much easier it had gotten with Janey.

Yes, they were still progressing, and yes, they were still nervous and uncertain about each other, but there was certainly a much more confident sense of ease between them—something friendly and warm. It was then, in that moment, when Sam really thought of Janey as his girlfriend—and not just some girl he was testing the waters with.

"I like your family," Janey murmured to him, looking happy and peaceful.

"And to think you didn't want to come," Sam gently teased back.

Janey's short hair looked so much longer when it was hanging down onto the pillow like that. Her eyelashes were really quite long too—something Sam hadn't taken the time to memorise yet. It was weird—seeing her on her side. A new angle, a new light.

"Yeah, okay, I guess you were right."

Sam just grinned. "It's been known to happen."

Janey laughed—a cute, twinkly laugh, not at all cohesive with her normally brash and abrasive demeanour. She pulled herself closer, not that there was really that much distance between them anyway, flirtatiously peering up through those impossibly long lashes.

Sam had little time to try and figure out how a sideways-lying snog might work before it was happening. Just like the armchair kiss, Janey didn't dive straight in. She simply placed her lips against his, just delicately brushing the surface, before applying a fraction more pressure, slightly parting his lips with her own.

Both Sam's breath and heart seemed to shudder, but he liked it. Lying down didn't seem to provide any more difficult dynamics than standing up or sitting down seemed to. But again, it was something new for them to explore together.

Their bodies were already huddled up together, legs casually snaked through each other, but Sam took the opportunity, as Janey gently gripped at the front of his shirt, to run his hand over her hip and onto her waist. He was slowly gaining more confidence when it came to that kind of thing, no longer terrified by the mere thought of putting his hands anywhere on her body that wasn't her shoulders or something ridiculous. Especially in private.

Well, that is, Sam thought he was more than confident about it all. Until Janey, as per usual, threw him out of his depth. And just when Sam had been starting to think there could be no more surprises.

Kissing him, not more frantically as such, but just more deeply, Janey took hold of Sam's hand from where he had so happily placed it on her waist and moved it upwards along her body until it was resting on her upper rib cage.

Sam had to open his eyes to check what had just happened. His hand, whilst not actually fully clasping her breast (oh, God, he couldn't handle this), was now just kind of resting on the side, in much the same way it had been so comfortably resting on her hip before she'd moved it. Though the palm was most definitely mostly on Janey's rib cage, the tips of his fingers could feel the slight protrusion of her chest.

Sam froze. Was this second base?

But no, he was barely even touching her. And yet, he was certainly touching something. Something he hadn't ever touched before. And he'd thought squeezing her bum had been a big move…

Maybe it wasn't what he thought, Sam reasoned. Maybe Janey just hadn't liked his hand being on her waist, and she'd moved it for comfort.

But naïve as he was, Sam knew that wasn't true. Janey had moved his hand with purpose, with calm and casual control—perhaps to let him know it was okay for him to touch her there. Perhaps to see where he would take this new initiative—a curious test of sorts.

What was she expecting, Sam desperately thought. At present, his hand was just kind of resting there. Was he supposed to… use it? Had she just wanted to set it in motion, and he was now supposed to… to what? Grope her?

Janey was always challenging him, and Sam kind of liked that, but once more he felt completely out of his depth. Every big step they took in their physical relationship (which Janey almost always initiated), caught him off guard, and always internally freaked him out.

This was no different.

Sam closed his eyes again, worried that Janey would catch on that he'd opened them and either stop to demand what he was doing or just think he was being really weird. Neither of which he wanted. He also, having realised he'd tensed up, tried to re-lose himself in the kiss. It was always so much easier just to let his senses guide him. But no matter how much he tried, his mind kept wandering to where his hand was still just kind of lying inanimately on the side of Janey's chest.

This wasn't working, Sam thought desperately. He didn't know what Janey was expecting, or what she wanted, but it was too much for Sam in that moment. He wasn't sure, even if it was an invitation to progress, that he was capable of doing so. And he was downright terrified of what would happen if he made some kind of move that Janey hadn't been expecting and then suffered her shock, and possibly her wrath, as a consequence.

Nor did Sam really just want to leave his hand there, in case that was even weirder.

So he did something which in hindsight was probably way riskier and flipped Janey onto her back—one quick, spontaneous movement.

Janey opened her eyes in surprise, startled to find herself staring up at Sam, now flat on her back. Her lips were parted in a sort of thrilled delight, breathless but in a good way, pleasantly surprised by Sam's forwardness.

Sam himself allowed only a brief moment of coy eye contact and a shared smile before lowering his mouth back onto Janey's. She met him with hungry desire, un-swayed by the new position, returning immediately to gripping at his shirt again as she lost herself in the kiss.

Sam, despite his trepidation about being alone with Janey in his bedroom (and now in such a compromising position on his bed), had to admit that he was enjoying this sense of control he seemed to be exerting. Looming over Janey's petite body, he felt a surge of power—like electricity. He had been dating Janey for three weeks now, snogging her for about two before that, and yet, every day provided some kind of new excitement. They had been wrapped up in armchairs, huddled together in cupboards, pressed up against walls, but this—his body hovering above hers, so much more dominant and sensual—he liked a lot.

Despite the empowered sense of confidence that Sam suddenly felt, he was still hesitant, still partially subdued. He had not lowered his body onto Janey's, but rather had his torso hoisted up by balancing on his elbows, touching her only with his mouth. Even with Janey pulling him closer, it took every ounce of Sam's strength to keep himself slightly elevated, inches of air keeping them from being sandwiched together. Sam was deeply reluctant to lower his entire body weight onto Janey's delicate frame—for several reasons.

Firstly, he did not want to hurt her. He felt so much larger than her, especially in that position, with almost a whole foot of height between them and likely a lot more muscle. Janey was strong—probably more so than Sam gave her credit for—but still, he did not want to smother her.

Secondly, he was once again afraid. Afraid of the intimacy, afraid of the implications it would suggest. His and Janey's bodies had been pressed up against each other before, sure—that had happened a lot in the broom cupboards for one, and there was the armchair to consider too—but in that position, considering where they were and what they were doing (and with his mother's mortifying suspicions still at the forefront of his mind), Sam was fearful of things progressing too far too soon.

Where Janey stood on it all, Sam couldn't be sure—though he suspected her to be far more nonchalant about it than he certainly was—but he knew he was not ready. He wanted to explore things with Janey, of course he did, and God knows he'd explored way more in that month with Janey than he ever had in his entire relationship with Isabella, but maybe they needed to slow things down for a bit. Why rush?

Sam wanted to know more about Janey. He wanted to know about her family, her childhood and upbringing, her hopes, fears, and dreams. And that area of their relationship didn't seem to be progressing at all. He could not pretend he was not still completely overwhelmed (and almost a little offended) by the startling revelation that Janey was a millionaire. Or at least, as she had spitefully pointed out, that her father was.

The more serious they became physically, the only more aware Sam became that, emotionally, they knew so little. And if he was really doing this with Janey—a proper relationship and all that it encompassed—he wanted to do it properly, and fully.

And yet, the more Janey gripped at his shirt, the more hungrily his mouth worked against hers, the more aware he felt of the sweat pooling beneath his collar, recapturing that euphoric bliss and new surge of power, the less Sam found he cared about propriety. All of a sudden, he did not care that his family was just downstairs, or that he was engaged in an act not all that far from his mother's wandering mind. He just cared about Janey, and losing himself to her in every way that he could.

He wanted nothing more than to feel her body pressed against his, to run his hand along her exposed leg, to even pursue that near-attempt at second base again, properly this time. To do anything and everything he could to connect, physically and mentally, with the girl he was falling deeper for with every passing day.

And he could tell—could sense it in the way she responded to him, as frantically and excitedly as he was—that she wanted it too.

It was probably just as well then, like when Professor Roberts had interrupted them in the corridor that one time, that there was a subdued knock on Sam's bedroom door, seemingly for no other reason than to stop Sam from getting what he had just decided he wanted.

"What?" he yelled out angrily, barely breaking away from his continued snog with Janey.

She was still all hands and mouth, which didn't help, either not having heard or just not caring about the visitor.

"Sam?" his mother's tentative voice called out from behind the door, much to Sam's aggravation.

"What?" he growled again, still focusing all his energy and attention into kissing Janey.

She had moved her hands from his chest to his hair now, gripping, clawing, like an animal. Sam gently groaned, not even caring that his mother could probably hear.

"Sam," Mrs Tyler pleaded, this time actually rattling the door handle as though she was trying to gain entry. Impossible, of course, as Sam had locked it with magic.

"WHAT?" Sam roared for the third time, this time so angry that he fully broke away from Janey, turning to glare in hatred at his bedroom door, still propped up on his elbows. Janey just lay beneath him, dazed and breathless, gently panting as she tuned back into reality.

"You need to come downstairs," Mrs Tyler answered in a timid, apologetic voice.

"Why?"

"Because Elliot's here."

Sam sighed in frustration. So what if his stepbrother was here? It seemed only a cruel ploy to interrupt his fun. Though, perhaps, that had been his mother's intention.

"Fine," Sam gulped, still with an edge of hostility to his voice. "We'll be down in a second."

"Okay," his mum replied, still sounding timid and concerned. There was no denying the fact that she loitered for several seconds before retreating back to the kitchen, probably listening out for incriminating proof that her innocent son was up to un-innocent shenanigans.

Sam turned his head back to Janey, disgruntled and kind of saddened that their brief flurry of passion was over. Janey was looking at him tenderly, chest rising and falling, blonde hair comically ruffled. Sam knew it was over.

He gulped before rolling to his side and collapsing onto the mattress beside Janey, also trying to regain his steady breathing. For a while, they just lay side by side, both of them lightly panting, both of them a little dazed.

"Your mum must think I'm a real whore," Janey said after a while.

Sam reached for her hand. They left them clasped atop the pillow.

"I'm sure my mum will blame me for all this," Sam responded. "And besides, she couldn't love you more. She thinks the sun shines out of your arse."

Janey snorted. "She doesn't even know me."

"She knows you enough to know that she loves you. Trust me—I can see it."

"What if she thinks I'm corrupting her little boy? Won't she think I'm not good enough for her son? Not worthy enough?" Janey teased, though Sam could sense there was underlying truth in her worries.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "If you're good enough for me then you're good enough for her," he said firmly. "If you make me happy then she's happy too."

Janey considered it for a while. "And do I?" she asked in a shy voice.

"I'm very happy," Sam clarified. "I am buzzing with happiness right now."

"I don't think that's happiness," Janey murmured in a teasing voice, rolling onto her side to look at him.

Once more, Sam found himself staring into those pools of blue, the colour of the sky, framed by impossibly long lashes. "I am happy," he murmured in a soft, assured voice, all teasing aside. "I'm so happy with you, Janey."

The blonde girl beamed, eyes filled with awe.

Sam wanted to kiss her again, just gently, but he feared one thing would lead to another and he'd quickly lose himself again. So instead, he forced himself to duck out from under the bunk bed, gently pulling Janey along with him. Once they were in the centre of the room, still stealing tender smiles, Sam took hold of her other hand.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, "for coming today. It really means a lot to me."

"Sorry for threatening to break up with you," Janey said sheepishly.

Sam just laughed, a reminiscent chuckle. "Well, no harm done," he said kindly. "And I meant what I said—about James asking you out on my behalf being the best thing that ever happened to me. I, ah, I don't think I would have had the courage to ask you myself," he admitted.

Janey wondered whether she should confess to Sam that she had, at that very moment, been coming down the stairs to ask him out herself. But she decided to keep it to herself. He needn't know.

"I'm really glad he did too," she said with a smile.

"And, you know, thanks for actually saying yes."

"It was my pleasure," Janey snorted.

Sam grinned. "Well," he said, "I do my best."

Janey just smiled.

"I guess we should go back," Sam said, looking, if Janey wasn't mistaken, a little reserved.

Not that she would admit it to him, but their brief little snogfest had been particularly thrilling for her. She had been deeply impressed by Sam's sudden and unexpected dominance. It had been him who had suggested they lie down, it had been him who had flipped her onto her back, and he who had shown no signs of stopping even amidst his mother's interruptions. It was a new side to Sam—confident, authoritative, sexy. Janey had liked it a lot.

"You can't go downstairs looking like that," Janey snorted, dropping Sam's hands and reaching for his intensely-ruffled hair. "Let me fix it for you," she offered kindly, running her fingers through it to try and flatten it a bit.

Sam just continued to grin at her whilst she worked away. "You're the one who messed it up," he teased.

"You're the one who seduced me," she murmured.

Sam nearly choked. He couldn't tell whether Janey was joking or not, but even the thought of himself being seductive was overwhelming. She was joking, he decided, examining her face as she continued to run her fingers through his hair. He hadn't seduced her—it was a joke. And yet, she wasn't smirking or anything.

Janey lowered her hands, looking satisfied with her work. "There," she declared, "and now you're back to looking like the sweet, innocent boy your mother believes you to be."

"I am the sweet, innocent boy my mother believes me to be."

"Keep telling yourself that," Janey said with a wink.

"I am!"

"Mhmm," Janey agreed, "sneaking girls up to your room and into your bed."

"I—I didn't," Sam spluttered, laughing.

Well, he considered, Janey wasn't exactly wrong in her accusation—but it wasn't anything like she was implying. He took hold of her hands again and leaned down to kiss her before she could say anything else, all the while using all his strength to stop himself from getting lost in it again and keeping it relevantly clean. Thankfully, Janey didn't complicate this, smiling back as she let him kiss her.

Again, she liked that he was taking control and setting his own terms.

"For the record," she murmured, "if a girl puts your hand on her chest, that's permission to actually do something with it."

"Alright, okay, we're going downstairs," Sam furiously declared, breaking the kiss, dropping Janey's hands, and marching over to the door without a look back, mortified by her comment and trying to pretend it hadn't happened.

Janey was laughing at him, Sam could tell, which only increased when he rattled the door handle, desperately trying to escape, and found it still locked. When he turned back with a guilty, flustered, and somewhat frustrated look, Janey was holding his wand between her slender fingers and raising her eyebrows.

Sam gave a meek smile. Janey smirked and tossed his wand to him without a single word.

Once more, Sam felt embarrassed as he and Janey entered the kitchen, mortified by his mother's ridiculous assumptions, but also knowing that, given the way he'd reacted just then, they were seeming more and more feasible. He had only locked the door so forcefully because he wanted people to know he wasn't intimidated by their outrageous speculations; he had not actually meant for anything to happen that might actually add to it.

But still, he assured himself, nothing had actually happened. All he and Janey had done was kiss. And, as Janey had so humiliatingly pointed out, they hadn't even gone to second base.

But now, at least, he knew that it wasn't out of the question.

Janey was surprised by Elliot Tyler. She had subconsciously been expecting a male alternative to Kayleigh, and yet, the two looked nothing alike. The younger twins, Kayleigh, and Mrs Tyler all had dark, rich hair, Sam's was brunette but much softer, Mr Tyler's was grey, but Elliot was the only blond one—a beautiful, golden blond, not unlike Janey's own. She wondered whether he looked like his mother.

Which only led Janey to wonder what had happened to Kayleigh and Elliot's mother (assuming they had the same one). Had she merely separated from Sam's stepfather, much like Janey's own mother, or had she passed too, like Sam's dad? Janey also realised that she didn't really know the circumstances of Sam's father's death. But she knew she would never dare to ask.

Unlike his sarcastic and cynical sister (not that Janey had at all minded), Elliot was overwhelmingly polite to Janey. Like Mrs Tyler, he greeted her as one of his own family members, putting Janey further at ease. He was everything Sam had assured Janey he would be—friendly, polite, well-mannered, and perfectly charming. Janey had never realised real people were actually that nice.

"Little Janey," he said fondly, unknowingly using the same nickname James Potter had long ago coined for her, like he was greeting an old friend. "At long last."

Janey looked to Sam with a quizzical expression. He looked sheepish.

"I shared a room with Sam for the first five years of him being at Hogwarts," Elliot explained. "Every time he came home, every single holiday, all I would hear about was you."

Janey blushed, knowing it wouldn't have been too favourable. But still, she felt flattered. Had she really had such an impact on Sam's life? Even a bad one?

"Look, I think everybody's exaggerating here," Sam said, clearing his throat.

"We're not," Kayleigh muttered under her breath.

Sam looked guiltily and apologetically at his girlfriend. "You just… used to push my buttons," he defended. "You know?"

"Sam talking about you is the reason we learnt so many swear words," Zoe innocently piped up.

"Okay, that is not true—"

"I'm very flattered," Janey interrupted, sweetly fluttering her eyelashes. "You're a real sweetheart, Sam."

"Look," he protested, "if I'd ever thought there would be anything between us… I just, I never even dreamed you'd be my girlfriend one day."

"That's not strictly true," Elliot interrupted, beaming from ear to ear.

Sam looked at him warily.

"I shared a room with you, Sam," his stepbrother reminded him. "You used to talk in your sleep. A lot."

"I didn't," Sam gulped, though he looked uncertain. "I… what?"

"Janey's name came up a lot."

"You're making this up," Sam said furiously.

Everybody was smirking, and Janey couldn't help but join in. She did feel somewhat bad for her poor boyfriend. Sam had been getting a lot of slack that day, everybody laughing at his expense. Which, even though it made Janey feel at ease, probably wasn't as uplifting for him. It was probably hard for him too, she considered, being the only one who wasn't a Tyler by blood. They all, at least, shared the same father.

"So what?" Janey dismissed, slipping her hands through his arm and leaning into him. "I think it's sweet."

Sam looked suspicious but pleasantly surprised.

"Nah," Elliot said with a grin, "he's a sweetheart really."

And he was being sincere, Janey thought, not sarcastic like Kayleigh.

Janey did her best to support Sam for the rest of the day—a concept she found amusing considering she was the outsider in that household. She found it weird, too, to be so open in her affection towards him. For years, she had done all she could to fight it, to convince herself that it didn't exist. And even though she was now comfortable in her own self that, yes, she cared for Sam, it was still embarrassing to be so liberal about it around their friends. They were all so deeply fascinated, like observing animals in a zoo, and so knowing and teasing about Sam and Janey's newfound romance. It unsettled the girl.

But in Sam's house, in the Tylers' company, being affectionate with Sam—being kind and romantic with him—was not only normal but encouraged. And Janey liked it a lot.

It had been a fun day, not at all as terrifying and intimidating as Janey had feared, full of laughter, banterous back-and-forth, and a general feeling of being welcomed, of being accepted. By the time it was starting to get dark, and Janey knew she would have to return to her own house (she hadn't told her dad where she was going that day and wanted to be home before him), she was almost sad at the thought of leaving it all behind.

The entire family saw her to the door, dog included, saddened that she was leaving and urgently encouraging her to return whenever she wanted. Mrs Tyler hugged her, as did Zoe, flinging her arms around the startled girl's waist. Mr Tyler shook Janey's hand again, just as he had when he'd first been introduced, and so did Elliot, even though Janey had known him for a much shorter length of time. Morgan gave her a high five, Kayleigh an approving nod of her head, and Rusty a sharp but excited bark.

By the time Janey was finally bustled out of the house, she felt dazed and oddly hollow. It was hard to believe that she hadn't even known them for a full day.

Sam closed the door behind them, joining Janey on his doorstep and coming to stand behind her. She was peering up at the sky with a sad, ominous look on her face. It looked like it was about to rain.

Janey hugged her arms around herself, though only briefly, as Sam's arms found their way there instead. He kissed the top of her head from behind. "So when do I get to meet your family?"

Janey turned around in his arms and glared at him. Luckily, he was smiling and hadn't been being serious.

"I am kidding," Sam clarified. "Meeting a girlfriend's parents has never been high up on my bucket list, and certainly not a millionaire father who could probably have me assassinated without any traces."

Janey rolled her eyes. "So you're okay with the whole 'millionaire' thing?" she asked nervously.

Sam looked guilty. "I have nothing against it," he assured her. "I was just… shocked," he said. "Overwhelmed. But, ah, you were right. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't change us."

"That's fair enough," Janey mused. "Maybe I should have told you, though."

"Look, it doesn't matter," Sam said firmly, still holding her. "Unless your dad really is going to try and have me assassinated then it's really not a big deal."

"He won't." Janey smiled. "He doesn't even know you exist."

"I'd be offended, but I think that's probably a good thing."

"Yeah," Janey agreed. "I'd like to tackle the whole 'secret half-sister' thing before I tackle the 'first serious boyfriend' thing."

Sam couldn't help but smile. "Is that what I am?" he asked gently, struggling to hide his clear elation at the title.

"I've never met a boyfriend's parents before," was all Janey said, as though that answered the question.

It was good enough for Sam.

"So when can I see you again?" he asked, lowering his voice.

They were both well aware that Sam's entire family was watching them through the window, unsubtly hiding behind the curtains.

"Aren't we all going to the beach next Saturday?"

"Let me rephrase it," Sam backtracked. "When can I see you again? Alone," he clarified.

Janey's stomach felt light. "I'll text you," she replied, she too lowering her voice like it was somehow a shared secret.

Sam did not care that his mother, stepfather, all four of his siblings, and half the neighbourhood had a front-row seat as he took Janey further into his arms and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Melting into the kiss with no reluctance, Janey did not think she had ever been happier.

The first few raindrops fell from the heavens, bursting on the couple's skin. It did not matter. That kiss persisted.

And so would that relationship, Janey vowed to herself.

Author's Note: Title and epigraph inspired by Scouting For Girls' 'Heartbeat'