by Auryn Hadley
Like he hadn't heard me, Sam flicked his keys around his finger and chuckled. "I'd let you drive, but rumor has it you're stoned."
"Yeah. They loaded me up good. Heard one of the nurses say I should've been a goner."
He moved a little closer, looking like he wanted to put his arm around my shoulders, but he didn't. "Was that your car on the corner of Clemmens and Bernard?"
I nodded. "Yep, the white compact that got compacted."
He whistled. "Saw that. Cops everywhere and like three ambulances. Looked really bad. You sure you're ok?" He paused, pushing a button to unlock the car.
"I hurt all over, have the nicest stripe across my body from the seat belt, and they say I have a concussion, but that's it."
He pulled the passenger door open, offering me a hand to lower my abused body inside. Oddly, I was mostly aware of the fact that I wore stupid bootie socks, had no bra, and my tits were flopping under the paper-like shirt. Pretty, real pretty. At least it was the roommate and not the super sexy potential-boyfriend hunk, right?
"How'd y'all know I was here?" That's what honestly confused me. "I mean, I left around midnight."
He closed the door gently, nodding his head as he walked around to the driver's side. Sliding into the seat, he resumed the conversation, "Nick's phone rang at like 1:00 am, maybe a little after. We were finishing up the last round of Battlefield, so pretty late."
"Yeah, I ran out for coffee for my morning fix."
He nodded. "They said Sienna Parker – nice boring last name by the way – had been admitted, and this was the most recent contact. Wondered if we knew your next of kin." He looked at me, waiting expectantly as he started the car. "Nick said you don't have any."
"I don't. It's just me." I bit at my lip. "Hey, Sam? Thanks for the ride. I mean it."
"Yeah, no biggie."
"Kinda is to me." I shrugged and felt the delayed emotional outburst coming. Taking a deep breath, I turned to the window, watching the scenery pass by, hoping I wouldn't start blubbering. "Seriously. I know you don't owe me a thing, and yet here you are, giving me a ride home in your nice car."
"You like it, don't ya?" He reached over and caught my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. His words didn't match the action. "Ladies always love the car. Guys like it when I let them drive."
I knew he was giving me a chance to change the subject and I appreciated it. Granted, having some chick that your roommate wanted to date bawling her eyes out on a trip home from the hospital did make a whole new level of awkward that I hadn't experienced before. I could handle awkward. Crying, not so much. A few deep breaths kept my eyes from doing more than welling up, but I was a wreck. The trick was to keep going, not look back, and never tense up. Awkwardness was easy to hide. I knew; I'd been doing it my whole life.
"Yeah. I love the car," I agreed. "Probably great for getting you laid."
He laughed. "You know it. So how'd Nick manage to score a real date with you, anyway?"
"He was a gentleman." I plucked at my lip, thinking about it. "It was after this weird encounter. I mean, I ran into some guy – he was an ass but thought a cheesy pickup line would be a good enough apology. Anyways, there I was, thinking about how to ditch him, and Nick just kinda showed up. I guess he knew the other guy."
"Ah, yeah. Told me he ran into Mike yesterday. We all grew up together."
"He said something about that. Anyway, we ditched class because of the rain, so I convinced him to help me with calculus." Ok, maybe I'd jumbled it all up, but it was close enough.
"And next thing you know, he's cooking you dinner?" Sam glanced over at me quickly before turning his eyes back to the road. "He played that off nicely. You gonna see him again?"
There I was, strapped into the front seat of a Porsche, sitting beside my crush's roommate who I'd just realized was pretty cute, and trying to play it cool. Yeah, awkward and I were way too close of friends. "I'd like to. He's a nice guy."
"Nick?" Sam's eyebrows shot up. "Aloof, demented, and arrogant. Those things I can see, but nice?"
"He makes really good spaghetti?" I shrugged. "Seriously, he's nice."
"Isn't nice like one step away from dumped?"
"Maybe for the people you've dated. Granted, there'd have to be a bit more than helping me with calculus before there's dumping involved, Sam."
"Like making out on the front porch or having his friend pick you up from the hospital?" He laughed, pulling onto my street. "So which one is yours?"
"The rock shanty." I pointed ahead. "At least I got my keys."
He slowed and turned into the drive, turning the car off. "Need anything?"
"Nah." I opened the door, intending to pull myself out.
The car sat nearly on the ground, and it would be a long way up with every muscle screaming at me. I paused, taking a deep breath to prepare for the complaint my body was about to make. Sam saw and jumped out, hurrying around the back to come grab my elbow.
"How about a big strong guy to help you up both of those stairs?" He looked me over. "Sweetie, you look like you got hit by a bus."
"Just don't tell Nick," I grumbled. "I was trying to keep up the hot redhead thing."
He pushed the car door shut with his foot and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, taking the keys from my hand. "I think you're ok there. Rescuing damsels in distress is my specialty. And Nick basically threatened me to make sure I'd give you a lift."
"He's in class?"
Sam shook his head, unlocking the door. "Nah. He'd ditch class for this. He had to talk to a guy about some business."
"Isn't that a euphemism?" I couldn't remember for what, and I was pretty sure I didn't want to think about it.
"Not this time," he assured me. "He honestly had an appointment he couldn't get out of. A time-sensitive thing."
He stepped inside with me, letting his arm slip from my shoulder as he looked around the room. "Damn, that's nice," he breathed.
I laughed. My mismatched furniture and second-hand things were not "nice." All I needed to make it into the stereotypical college pad was a table made out of plywood, but Sam was staring at the walls. My paintings covered them, leaving no space left untouched. Mostly, it was just to let them dry without getting smudged. Nothing was framed, and some of them weren't finished, but it was all my own work.
"The paintings?" I asked, pretty sure that's what had impressed him. The decor certainly hadn't.
He nodded, walking toward a piece I'd done called Burning Brightly. The canvas was filled with a close-up view of flames. "Yeah. Yours?"
"Most is stuff I couldn't sell or something I was trying to figure out. It's just crap, Sam."
"Not crap." His finger traced the edge of the canvas. "I like this one."
"You're welcome to it. It's a macro view of a match." I waved my hand back at it as I stumbled onto the couch. "Consider it a thank you for the ride."
Slowly, he turned to me. "Really? You're just giving me one of your paintings?"
I shifted onto my back, resting my head against the arm. "Really. I mean, it's kinda the least I can do. If you want it, you're welcome to it, but you have to find your own frame."
The look on his face would have been comical if it wasn't so sweet. He stared at me like I'd just given him a Monet. "Thanks, Sienna. That's probably the nicest thing anyone's done for me."
I paused, hearing nothing but raw truth in his voice. It seemed I wasn't the only person trying to make it through life on their own. Maybe that's why Sam felt like such a kindred spirit when we'd first met. Granted, a painting didn't seem enough to earn that kind of appreciation, but he probably thought the same about the ride.
"Then we're even, because," I grunted as I shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position. "I can't think of a lot of people who'd make sure I got home safe." I paused. "No, that's bullshit. Truth be told, Sam, I can't remember the last time someone did me a favor without holding it over my head."
"Well, that's one thing I won't do." He moved closer,
sitting gently beside me. "When was the last time you ate, sweetie?"
"Last night." I shrugged. "Hospital food sucks unless you count the Jell-O."
"Lemme get pizza, or pick up some burgers or something? Nick said he wanted to stop by when he's done."
I shook my head. "No offense, but I just really want a hot shower and a nap."
"Nah, I get it. Can I do anything for you?"
He reached over and carefully palmed the side of my head, letting his hand slide down the back of my hair. For a moment, our eyes met. That hint of purple was still there. So was something else. It wasn't just concern. If I had to put a name to it, I'd call it protective, but the soft and sensual kind. The kind usually reserved for boyfriends, not just friends. I felt my heart beat faster in response. I was trying to date Nick. Sam was just a friend. Nothing but a friend, however at that moment, I realized he didn't agree. I also didn't mind.
I reached up to touch the ring in his brow, hoping to lighten the mood. "How many of these do you have, anyway?"
In answer, he stuck his tongue out. Two metal balls stood out on top. "A few," he said. "Like ten? Depends on if you count the ears. You thinking about getting some yet?" He smiled, but his eyes didn't waver from mine. "I'm voting for your tongue if you are."
"No," I groaned, wrenching my eyes away. "Sam, you're awful!"
His face softened, and he trailed his hand across the side of my head one more time. "I'm really not. I'm honestly just worried about you – and pretty sure Nick will grill me later. Are you sure you're ok here alone?"
"Positive. The only thing I'll miss is class."
He nodded. "I think Nick has notes from Art History, and I told our TA that you'd been in an accident. If you're out tomorrow too, we'll take care of it. It's the least we can do. Just text Nick so we don't worry, ok?"
That was sweet. Of course, everyone put on their best face at first, and it didn't take long before one thing led to another, and someone would be pissed about something – like that look in Sam's eyes. Friendships were temporary things, dependent only on what someone got out of it, and I just didn't have anything else to give. I'd been used up and tossed out as a child, and hadn't quite refilled yet. Keeping people at arm's length was easier. It kept me focused on the things that really mattered in life. Like my degree – which I needed to stay focused on.
Friends had never fit in my plans. They meant hanging out. Hanging out meant slacking off. Slacking off meant failing classes. Failing classes meant working more hours to pay for retaking them, which killed the hanging out, and would result in no friends. I figured it was easier to skip the mess in the middle and just move right to the end. That's what I tried to tell myself, at any rate, but it was lonely living like this.
And these guys were making it so easy to depend on them. Not once had they made me feel bad for their help, even when I knew it put them out. I already owed Sam big time, and Nick? He'd dropped everything to show up at the hospital last night. I could barely remember any of that, but I knew he'd been there. I also vaguely remembered talking about Death, but I didn't want to think about that right now.
"Thanks, Sam, but I'll be there." I smiled up at him. "I paid too much to skip classes when a few Advil will make it tolerable."
"And you're still allowed to change your mind. I'll get out of your hair and let you get some sleep." He patted my leg once, then stood, walking back to the painting. "You're serious about me taking this?"
"Yeah. It's actually kinda cool that you'd even want it, so definitely."
He grinned and pulled it from the wall, looking back once before leaving. The smile he offered made me want to blush. Lifting a hand, I waved awkwardly. He shut the door behind him, leaving me completely and totally alone. The silence around me was loud enough to ring in my ears. It also felt peaceful. Peaceful enough that I just wanted to close my eyes and nap, but I was still covered in particles of glass and grit. First, get clean, then I'd call work. There was no way I'd make it in. Hopefully, they'd let me work tomorrow. I wouldn't make it without the hours.
The shower came first. Heaving myself up, I began peeling out of the temporary scrubs on my way to the bathroom. I ran the water as hot as I could stand it and just soaked, letting every ache and pain seep from my body with the water coursing over my skin.
I stood there until the water ran cold then wrapped myself in a thick, fluffy towel and staggered out. My stomach finally growled, making me glance at the clock. Not even dinner time and I was totally wiped out. Staggering toward my bedroom for some clothes, I decided today was going to be a complete write-off.
That accident had been fatal. The way my luck went, they'd probably try to blame me for it somehow. The problem was that I was broke with a capital B. If this got expensive, I was completely screwed.
This would mess up all my classes, and I still had to work on top of that. Which meant that in a few days, I was going to be completely and totally fucked, and not in a good way, so I'd better take advantage of the solitude while I still could. Things were changing and, unfortunately, I was pretty sure I knew exactly where this was headed.
Chapter 9
With the hot shower having loosened my muscles, I sat down and called work to give them the bad news. Oddly, someone had already taken care of that. I had a funny suspicion Nick was involved, but it was sweet. When the manager asked if I wanted to come in tomorrow instead, I jumped at the chance. Sure, I'd probably still be achy, but all I had to do was pour drinks.
Once that was handled, I gave up and crawled into bed. Dinner didn't even matter. I just wanted to sprawl myself out on something nice and soft. The mattress qualified. As the sun began to set, overly ambitious crickets chirped outside, but they couldn't keep me awake. The lazy rumble of cars on the street worked like a lullaby. It didn't take long before I was out.
Much, much later, a feather-light touch slid along my temple, following the line of my hair. It was dark, I could tell that, and my room was cool. Struggling to figure out what had jostled me from sleep, I pried my groggy eyes open. They flickered once before obeying, then I froze. The world was in shades of grey – and not just from the lack of light. Looking left, the clock was dim, just a dead black rock on a dead grey table. To my right was the only color in the room, but I didn't dare believe it. Moonlight blue shone under the deep black cloak of the man leaning over my bed. When my eyes landed on him, Death smiled sweetly.
"You were supposed to be sleeping," he whispered. I moved to sit up, but his hand touched my shoulder, holding me against the bed with the soft plea in his fingers.
"You came back," I gasped, not even ashamed of the relief in my voice.
With a rustle of cloth, he eased himself onto the bed by my hip. "I never left. You were supposed to forget me, not draw me. I just had to make sure you're ok."
"You saved me, didn't you." It wasn't a question. I knew he had, but I wanted him to admit it.
Again, that smile. "You're not even supposed to see me, dove."
"But I can." I reached up, sliding my hand under his hood. "Thank you for saving me last night, and Jamal!" There was so much I wanted to tell him. I'd waited so long, but seeing him again made the words vanish before reaching my mouth, leaving only the sight of his lips to torment me.
He pressed his cheek against my palm. Pale sparks from the stars in his eyes peeked from the depths of the hood. With one hand, he grabbed my wrist, holding it to him. "We have to stop meeting like this," he teased gently.
"Then how should we meet? I like this a whole lot better than last night or the robbery."
From the twist of his mouth, that wasn't the question I should've asked. "We're not supposed to meet at all. You're supposed to stay on your side of the veil, not mine. Little Muse, it's dangerous here. If you don't stop slipping over, someone might notice. I'm worried someone already has."
"Who? Wait, where?" I had no idea what he was talking about. Like in a dream, my sleep-fogged mind spun but got nowhere.
His soft, g
entle finger slid to my forehead, tracing lazy spirals against the skin. "On my side of the veil. Our worlds may overlap, but we aren't supposed to meet. Sleep, little dove. I just wanted to make sure you were ok, not haunt you."
"Stalk me," I mumbled, feeling exhaustion pulling at my body.
"Definitely not that," he swore. "But you've been doing a good job of forcing me to come back. Dove, I have to protect you. I just need to make sure no one can get in. Sleep. Forget me. I wasn't here. This is all a dream."
It almost worked. My eyes closed, my breathing slowed, and my mind settled, but I wasn't willing to lose him again. I'd waited four years; I wouldn't give up so easily. With a breath, I wrenched open my eyes to see amber rays from the streetlight trickling through the blinds, the colors of the world as vibrant as ever. This was my world, not his. If I wanted to see Death, I had to figure out how to get back across. Sitting up quickly, I whipped my head around the room, looking for a hint. The time glared back at me on the clock in bold red numbers that didn't exist on the other side: 3:17 a.m.
"Damn it!" I snarled, pushing myself back against the wall, wishing that I could find the grey world of Death.
And I did.
That one little shove moved me through something, like breaking the surface of water, and I felt the world start to slide sideways. Instinctively, I grabbed at the mattress, locking myself to it, too shocked to do anything else. It felt like someone had turned on a fan – a very large one – and the wind was pushing me out of the room.
"Fuck," Death snapped, standing by my window.
With a flick of his hand, a wave of cyan and pink washed across the room, leaving tiny symbols as proof. They faded out quickly, but the wind died down, making this grey world into a colorless version of what I knew. There were still differences.