The Boyfriend Series Box Set (Books 1-6): YA Contemporary Romance Novels

by Christina Benjamin

  Sam wished there was a way to spare Devon that misery. But then, she thought about how she could barely feel the pain of missing her mother anymore. Time had dulled it, along with her memories. Sam looked at Devon, who gave her a kind smile, and decided maybe the best thing she could do for him was to let him hang onto the pain of missing his father. To let it fill him up and wash over his bones, so that he’d know it was real and he’d have something to hang onto when time slipped in to steal pieces of the pain away.

  Yes, the best she could do was be his friend and offer a few happy distractions. Sam regretfully pulled her feet from Devon’s lap and took his hands. “Come on. I think I got a few dances left in me.”

  Even though her feet were throbbing, it wasn’t hard for Sam to drag herself back to the dance floor. Dancing with Devon was like running downhill, and she never wanted to stop—even barefoot.

  Devon let her stand on his shoes and it made her giggle. The emcee came on the mic announcing the last dance. Devon scooped Sam up and twirled her around as, I had the Time of My Life, blared through the speakers.

  She cracked up as he sang all the words.

  “I didn’t know you were a Dirty Dancing fan?”

  “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Sam.”

  “I’m sure there are.”

  “Wanna know what I’m thinking right now?” he asked wiggling his eyebrows impishly.

  She grinned. “I’m not sure.”

  “I’m thinking about kissing you, Sam.”

  “Devon! Friends don’t kiss. Remember? And stop saying my name so much. It’s weird.”

  “I like saying your name, Sam. And your rules are rubbish!”

  “No, they’re not!”

  Devon shrugged and they kept dancing.

  “Wanna know something else, Sam?” he asked.

  “No!”

  “But it’s something about you,” he taunted.

  “I don’t want to know!”

  “Yes you do. It’s a secret.”

  “Fine. What is it?”

  “I think you almost had fun tonight, Sam.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her grin. “Almost.”

  “I knew it!”

  “Don’t go getting a big head. I just like weddings. And can you please stop calling me Sam? It’s Samantha.”

  “But I like Sam. It’s a grand name.”

  “It’s a boy’s name.”

  “I like Sam,” he said firmly, like the discussion was over. Then, he spun her and started singing the lyrics again. When she was back in his arms, he looked down at her with a more serious expression on his face. “I know this isn't Boston,” Devon said. “But is it really so bad?”

  Ugh, why did he have to bring up Boston? Not now. Not when she was almost having fun!

  But now that he had brought up Boston, Sam felt like she wasn’t allowed to have fun. Like she was betraying her home if she enjoyed herself somewhere else. She knew it was stupid, but it was Boston pride. Anyone who considered themselves a good Bostonian thought this way.

  “Boston’s my home, Devon. It’s where I grew up. I had all my firsts there and I really thought I’d get to finish my journey there. I’m not going to get to graduate with my friends or finish out my soccer career with my team. It sucks.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But, I’d kill to be you, starting over somewhere new. Getting to be anyone you want. I’m going to be stuck here managing my father’s company forever. I feel like my life’s over before it even started.”

  They weren’t dancing anymore. Sam was looking at the sadness held between Devon’s furrowed brows. He already had lines there, like he’d spent entirely too much time worrying for someone who was only seventeen. Maybe being seventeen just sucked for everyone.

  “Have you told your father how you feel?” she asked.

  “He doesn’t care. Cor-Tec is his dying wish for me. I can’t let his half of the company go to the highest bidder. Your father would be ruined too if I did that.”

  “I’m sorry, Devon. I didn’t know . . . ”

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to crap on your problems with mine. I just mean to say that I know this isn’t Boston, but things might not be as bad at they seem. If you’re open to it, you could have some pretty grand firsts here.”

  Staring up at Devon made her think of some pretty grand firsts, indeed.

  She nodded at him, not sure what to say. Devon’s problems were much bigger than hers. She could go back to Boston next year, or anywhere she wanted. And she still had her father, even if he was a pain in her ass half the time.

  “You ready to go home?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  15

  Devon

  Devon was quiet on the drive home. He felt like a wall had gone up between him and Sam all of a sudden. He was cursing himself for ruining their perfect night by bringing up Boston and his father. Sam was right; she was his happy distraction. He just wanted to bury himself in her and the magnificent way she made him feel. But that wouldn’t solve his problems. He was beginning to realize nothing would.

  He walked Sam to her door and they both stood awkwardly in the hall looking down at their feet. Sam was still barefoot, and Devon wished he still had her feet in his lap.

  “Thanks again for tonight,” Devon said, finally looking at Sam.

  “It was fun.”

  “It was. And I’m sorry about what I said.”

  She looked at him like she didn’t know what he was apologizing for.

  “The wanting to kiss you thing,” he clarified.

  “Oh.”

  “You were right,” he continued.

  “I was?”

  “Yeah. We need rules if we’re going to be friends. Crossing the line would just muck things up. And I really don’t want to muck it up with you, Sam.”

  She looked up at him, her face a sea of turmoil. “You’re not going to mess things up, Devon. I know how hard losing a parent can be. I’m always going to be here for you if you need me.”

  “What about Boston?”

  “Who knows? But whether I end up in Boston or China, I’m only ever a phone call or text message away.”

  “Good, because I think I need you.” Devon could feel his face breaking. “I know I do.”

  He watched his reflection twist in Sam’s eyes. He hated acting like a sniveling fool around her. He must have drunk too much champagne. But Sam didn’t seem put off by his sudden rush of emotions. She reached her hand up and gently cupped his face. “You have me, Devon.” And then she kissed his cheek.

  Devon pulled her to him trying to hide his tears. He knew she didn’t mean it the way he wanted her to. But it was good enough for now.

  They stood in the hallway holding each other tightly. Sam stayed patiently in his arms, rubbing her hands in soothing circles on his back until Devon could collect himself. When he finally felt like he could take a shaky breath without breaking down, he pulled away from her.

  “Thank you,” Devon said taking both of her hands.

  Sam stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek again. “Goodnight, Devon.”

  “Goodnight, Sam.”

  Sam

  Sam felt like she was dragging her heart behind her as she shuffled into her bedroom. It had been a traumatic night as far as her heart was concerned. She went from being all fluttery dancing with Devon, to shredded, after she tried to comfort him from the impossible loss he was facing. She was exhausted, and she wished there was more she could do for Devon. But all she could offer was to be there for him—whether he needed a shoulder to cry on or a happy distraction.

  She and her father had been that for each other after Sam’s mother died. And that was really the only thing that got them through it. The casseroles helped, but there’s no recipe to heal a broken heart.

  Sam forced herself to take a quick shower and then slipped into her new comfy pajamas before climbing into bed. She had just turned off the bedside
lamp when she heard her phone ping with a text message. She rolled over and grabbed it off the nightstand.

  DEVON: Just checking out your theory.

  SAM: I’m still here.

  DEVON: Good.

  SAM: You know I’m only across the hall if you need me.

  DEVON: I know.

  DEVON: Thanks again for tonight.

  SAM: Stop thanking me. I already told you I had fun.

  DEVON: It was fun, wasn’t it? Maybe we should do it again?

  SAM: Are you asking me out, friend?

  DEVON: No. That would be against the rules.

  SAM: Good. Besides you still owe me for this non-date.

  DEVON: What do you have in mind?

  She thought for a moment. There was something she’d been dying to ask Devon for help with . . . She bit her lip and contemplated a bit longer before quickly typing a response.

  SAM: Soccer practice? Tomorrow morning?

  DEVON: Only if you call it football.

  SAM: Deal.

  DEVON: What time?

  SAM: 7 am. See you bright and early.

  DEVON: Perfect it’s a date ;-)

  SAM: It’s NOT a date! See you in the morning.

  Sam was grinning. Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

  Sophie

  Sophie rolled over trying to read the caller ID on her cell phone. Who on earth was calling her at this hour? It was the middle of the night.

  “Hello?” Sophie said groggily.

  “Soph? It’s Molly.”

  “Mol! It’s 1 am!”

  “I know but this is important.”

  “It better be.”

  “You’ll never guess who I saw at my cousin’s wedding!”

  “I’m not playing guessing games with you, Mol.”

  “Devon!”

  Sophie sat up.

  “And guess who he was with?” Molly asked.

  “Don’t tell me, that drab looking American, Samantha?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I know everything, Molly.”

  “So you don’t care that Devon’s dating someone?”

  “Of course not. I broke up with him! But that doesn’t mean we’re going to let that little slut go unchecked. She needs to learn the order around here.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. So what’s the plan?”

  “You’ll see.”

  16

  Sam

  Sam was up at the crack of dawn. She was so excited to have an opportunity to get some soccer practice in that she couldn’t sleep. She dressed in her new pink sports bra and matching shorts, before pulling on a gray long-sleeved shirt that said, What’s Life Without Goals?—she loved puns, especially soccer puns. Sam quickly braided her hair and then searched for her phone to text Devon to see if he was ready.

  She found it in her bed. It was dead. Damn it. She forgot to plug it in. That’s what happens when you fall asleep texting, Sam! Oh well, Devon was only across the hall. She’d just go knock on his door. Sam shoved her ball and some gear into her athletic bag and headed across the hall.

  She knocked on Devon’s door.

  No response.

  She knocked louder.

  Still nothing.

  He better not have forgotten about her.

  Sam knocked again, her temper rising. If Devon thought he was going to stand her up after she’d gotten all dolled up for him last night he had another thing coming. She’d march right in there and kick him out of bed.

  She twisted the knob and the door swung open. It was dark inside his room. And loud. What was that noise? It sounded like rushing water. Oh shit! It was the shower! Devon was in the shower! Naked. She was in Devon’s naked room. Naked Devon’s room. Devon was naked!

  Sam’s brain seemed to be malfunctioning as the word naked lit up like neon lights in her head blinding out rational thought. She tried to escape from his room, but she kept trying to push his door open instead of pull. She heard the water squeak off and then the bathroom door opened.

  Shit!

  “Sam?”

  Don’t turn, Sam. She turned.

  He was frozen in the bathroom doorway, completely naked, holding a dark towel at his side. The lights were glowing behind him and Sam swore she heard angels singing as she drooled over his perfect glistening body. He quickly covered himself with the towel and took a step toward her. He was starting to say something when a giant beast skirted around him from somewhere in the bathroom.

  All Sam could do was shriek and cover her face as the massive wolf-like creature leapt for her.

  Devon

  Devon was so shocked to see Sam standing in his room, for a moment he thought he was imagining it. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d dreamt she was in his bedroom. But when Eggsy charged out of the bathroom behind him he knew it was real. And his dog was about to tackle the girl he loved.

  “Eggsy! No!” Devon hollered, but the dog had already launched himself at Sam.

  She screamed and crumpled to the floor as Eggsy stood over her growling.

  “Eggsy! Heel!”

  The dog immediately backed down, but the damage was done. Sam was on his bedroom floor shaking as tears streaked down her face.

  “Shite, Sam. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Devon asked kneeling down to inspect her.

  “No!” she yelled. “What the hell is that thing?” she gasped glaring wide-eyed at Eggsy, who was now obediently sitting at the foot of his bed.

  “My dog. I’m sorry. He’s not used to people sneaking into my room.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking,” she said indignantly. “I knocked.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. I was in the shower.”

  “Clearly,” Sam said, averting her eyes as her face reddened.

  Devon looked down and suddenly realized he was crouching in a towel that left him entirely too exposed in the front. He abruptly stood, adjusting the towel before offering Sam a hand up.”

  “I’m really sorry, Sam. Eggsy doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just protective.”

  “Tell that to my arm,” she whimpered, gingerly touching the gaping hole in her new shirt.

  “Let me see.” Devon moved closer to Sam and Eggsy growled.

  “Um, I think I’m fine. I’m just going to go back to my room now.”

  “Sam . . .” But she was out the door before he could protest.

  Devon shot Eggsy a dirty look. “Some wingman you are!”

  The dog cocked his head like he didn’t understand. And clearly he didn’t, because now Sam was probably terrified of Eggsy. And rightly so.

  Devon dressed quickly and left Eggsy in his room before dashing across the hall to check on Sam. She answered the door in her sports bra and his words evaporated. Then he saw the bright red mark on her arm.

  “Shite,” Devon murmured. “That looks bad.”

  “I’ll live,” Sam replied. “But my shirt . . . might not recover.” She nodded to the torn gray shirt on the floor.

  “I’m so sorry,” Devon said again. “Here, I brought you some first aid cream. You should disinfect before applying it though.”

  “Why? Does your hell hound have rabies?”

  “He’s not a hell hound!” Devon argued, genuinely hurt that Sam didn’t like Eggsy. “Until you came along he’s pretty much the only one I had to talk to around here.”

  Sam crossed her arms and gave Devon an unsympathetic look. “He may be a good listener but he murdered my shirt.”

  “Go tend to your arm, I’ll fix your shirt.”

  Sam stomped into her bathroom and shut the door. Devon found a pair of scissors on her desk and cut the sleeves off her gray shirt, turning it into a tank. It’s something he used to do to all his shirts during summer club, when it was too hot for sleeves. He wasn’t sure if Sam would like it, but at least the shirt was salvageable this way. Now, if only repairing her opinion of Eggsy were so easy.

  Sam came out of the bathroom with a smear of first aid cream on her arm. Devon sh
ook his head. She was helpless. “It’ll scar if you don’t protect it from the sun.”

  She only shrugged.

  Devon frowned. “You shouldn’t take skin cancer so lightly.”

  Her eyes flicked up to his and they held each other’s gaze for a long moment, each thinking the same unspeakable truth—cancer was a likely possibility for their futures based on their parents’ history.

  “Here,” Devon said softly. He held up a spare strip of sleeve as he moved toward Sam. She let him tie it gently around her arm.

  Devon tried not to let his hands linger on her soft skin too long. It was bad enough he let his dog harm her. He didn’t need to accost her too. When the makeshift bandage was in place, Devon held out the rest of Sam’s shirt. “It’s the best I could do.”

  “It’s great. Thanks.”

  “Still up for football?” he asked, awkwardly.

  “Absolutely!”

  “Grand. Let’s hit the pitch?” he asked.

  “You have an actual soccer pitch?” Sam asked, her eyes widening.

  “Football,” he corrected. “And of course.”

  She grinned.

  “Come on.”

  Devon led Sam and Eggsy through the gardens toward the football pitch he and his father had built when they first moved in. They’d always shared an admiration for the sport. And Devon had fond memories of kicking the ball around with his old man. He hated that soon that’s all they would be—memories. His father’s sporting days were over. Actually all his days would be over soon.

  Devon tried not to let the heaviness settle in his heart. Today was for the living. And Devon intended to live. How could he not when he was spending the morning playing his favorite sport with his favorite girl? He looked over at Sam. She was keeping one eye suspiciously fixed on his dog.

  “Did he have to come with us?” Sam asked shooting Eggsy a dirty look.

  “Yes. I can’t keep him cooped up in my room. Which reminds me. Would you mind not mentioning what happened this morning? Cara hates Eggsy already.”