A pang of jealousy hit Tinka hard. This band contained a girl Sam had kissed and a girl he went to the most important dance of his life with. She had to remind herself that A) Sam was still only her fake boyfriend, and B) it wasn’t like she didn’t have her own past. “Did you two have fun?” She tried to make it sound jokey, like how his sister would’ve asked.
“Sure.” Sam turned toward Tinka. “But we only went as friends.”
“Oh. So, like, friend friends. Nothing…more?”
Sam grinned, watching her curiously. It reminded Tinka of the day they met in his backyard, when he’d looked at her like he was trying to figure her out. “Did you go to prom?” he asked.
Tinka winced, taking her gaze off his dimple. “Almost. We only have senior prom at Florian’s, but some guy asked me to go with him. We were not friends.” She shook her head for emphasis.
“And you only ‘almost’ went with him?”
“Yeah, he was really sweet leading up to it.” The band started playing their first song, a blues-rock version of “Away in a Manger,” and Tinka tapped her toe in time. “But he was friends with some guy I had…hung out with a few weeks earlier, and I found out he had certain ‘expectations’ about prom night.”
“Asshole,” Sam said.
“The dumb thing is that if he’d been upfront with me from the beginning, I might have gone along with it. He was cute and fun. If we’d hooked up at a party, it would’ve been no big deal. But the fact that he bothered with, like, romancing me beforehand was insulting for some reason. Does that make sense?”
“Don’t pretend to want more if all you want is sex…or you know, whatever.” Sam’s face went slightly pink.
Tinka’s cheeks could’ve heated her parents’ house right now, but she shrugged off the embarrassment. “The suckiest thing was that I’d been excited about the dance itself, but I ended up not even going. I’d never been to a dance before.”
“Never ever?”
She shook her head.
The two of them turned to face the gazebo. Tinka focused hard on the bassist, because Sam had neither kissed nor gone out with her, as far as Tinka knew.
“So…” Sam said.
Tinka didn’t look, but she could sense him fidgeting next to her.
“Maybe we should dance, then. Or whatever.”
Tinka’s mind swirled as she focused on the bassist plucking her strings. “Maybe.” She turned to Sam, and his expression convinced her to chuck all propriety out the window. She’d seen that look before, on other guys. Sam wanted her. The difference was, this time, she wanted him back.
She took Sam’s hand. It was the first time they’d touched skin-to-skin in days, and the sensation almost brought her to tears. She wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling his cheek closer to hers. He held her tight around the waist, and they swayed together as Marley Ho serenaded them with “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”
Tinka leaned back and stared him straight in the eye. “Can I be honest with you right now?”
She felt his breath catch. “Okay.”
She focused on his mouth. “I want to touch your dimple.” She wanted to touch more than that, but she’d start there.
He laughed and the dimple appeared. “What?”
“I’ve wanted to touch it since the day we met. May I?”
He shrugged. “Not what I was expecting, but sure.”
Tinka licked her lips and leaned in. She pressed her index finger to the little divot on his cheek. Then she let go. “That was very satisfying,” she said.
“Any time you need it, my dimple is here for you.”
She wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him in close, resting her head on his chest. He rubbed her back and held her tight as they swayed in time to the music. All her troubles faded away—her parents, Colin’s texts, Dylan, Karen. Sam, the guy who lit every nerve in her body on fire, was her key to inner peace.
When the town clock struck seven, Sam pulled away, breaking the spell.
“What?” Tinka asked, the space between them suddenly agonizing. “Are you about to turn into a pumpkin?”
“Better,” he said. “It’s time to watch the greatest Christmas movie of all time.”
He grabbed her hand, and Tinka laced her fingers between his. They’d broken their unspoken no-touching rule, and, apparently, they were going to blatantly keep violating it. The two of them dashed through the streets to Maurice’s. “What movie is it?” asked Tinka.
“You’ll see.” Sam opened the door to the video store.
“I saved you a spot.” Maurice tossed a small bag to Sam as he and Tinka ran toward the back.
The screening room was packed mostly with strangers, but there was an empty beanbag chair right in front, with a hand-written sign that said “Reserved.” Sam flopped down, and Tinka joined him. The two of them sank into each other, side by side. Nervous, Tinka hugged her own chest. Seeing a movie while sitting close like this wasn’t a very brother/sister thing to do. Seeing a movie was when they’d spent almost two hours kissing each other after they’d agreed to keep things platonic. So far tonight they’d only danced, but here in the dark…
Sam nudged her with his elbow. “Get ready.”
A few moments later, the opening shot of Die Hard appeared on screen. Tinka settled in with Sam next to her. The beanbag chair was so comfortable, and she was so tired from running around all day. She closed her eyes for what she thought was just a minute, but the next thing she knew, the credits were rolling, and she woke up with her head on Sam’s chest.
He had his arm around her and his head had fallen limp against the top of hers. He was sleeping, too.
Tinka lifted her head and sat up. The room had cleared out. A few people were up front, talking to Maurice.
Sam stirred and sat up as well. He ran his fingers through his curls and glanced around. “Ghost town,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“We fell asleep. During Die Hard. I’m so disappointed in us.”
Tinka reached up and touched his dimple again, which made him smile more. Breathing hard, she pulled his face toward her and kissed him—a sleepy, fervent, messy kiss. He kissed her back just as hungrily. And it struck her, they were all alone. They weren’t putting on a show for anyone right now. It was just the two of them. She put her hands on his cheeks and ducked away from his lips. He grinned, and she pulled him in for another long, slow kiss.
That ended a moment later when someone behind them coughed. “A-hem.”
Tinka and Sam straightened up and turned around. Karen and Jane. The look on Karen’s face could freeze lava, and Jane’s eyes were puffy and red from crying.
“Colin called,” Karen said.
Shit. Tinka jumped up from the beanbag chair. “Jane.”
“How could you?” Jane sobbed, backing toward the exit. “You spent the past month lying to my face. Karen was right about you this whole time. You only care about yourself.” She spun on her heel and dashed out of the video store. Karen followed behind.
Tinka should’ve seen this coming. Colin had told her this would happen. She’d tried to do the Tinka thing and ignore the problem until it went away, something that had never, ever really worked.
She and Sam were doing that now, floating along, kissing each other occasionally, not dealing with the fact that the summer was going to end, they’d go their separate ways, and Tinka would push him away until he ended up hating her.
“You should probably take me home.” She stepped toward the door, putting a very necessary chasm of space between them.
“As you wish,” he said.
Tinka knew what that meant, and it broke her heart. With one movie quote, he’d managed to shatter this illusion of friendship they’d worked so hard to maintain. “Princess Bride,” she said.
Sam grinned, but Tinka couldn’t return the smile. He’d known from the start that she consistently railroaded the people in her life. Yet, here he was, standing by her, using Wesley’s famous w
ords to tell her he cared about her. There was only one thing to do. It’d kill her, but she had to end this now.
…
Sam ran after Tinka as she jog-texted her way down Main Street, sending people scurrying to jump out of her way. When he finally caught up with her, she shoved the phone into her pocket. “What’s the point, right? Just another friendship I’ve ruined. Might as well do my normal thing and let it go, pretend like it doesn’t bother me.” She rested her hands on her knees, and a sob escaped her lips.
Sam put a hand on her back, but she shrugged him off, stood, and took off running to his truck. He followed behind, but not too closely. She wanted to be alone. He got the hint.
The two of them sat in silence in the car. Sam waited for her to speak, but she didn’t. Tinka stared out the window, seeming content to stay in her head. Sam wouldn’t push the issue. She’d talk when she wanted to talk. He drove them silently through the streets, passing houses that were newly decorated for Christmas in July. There were blowup snowmen and trolls from the movie and even a terrifyingly realistic Santa mannequin reclining on a Barcalounger. Sam commented on each of them in his mind, but kept his thoughts to himself.
He pulled into her driveway, and she immediately gripped the door handle.
Sam spoke quickly before she had a chance to escape. “I had an amazing time today.” Though things had taken a turn when Karen and Jane showed up, everything before that had been perfect, the whole, entire day. Their kiss on the beanbag was the icing on the cake. He wouldn’t allow that to get lost in the drama.
“Me, too.” She was still staring out the passenger’s side window.
“Tinka, I know it’s easy for me to say, but what if you talk to Jane, explain to her what happened—”
She turned to him, tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? This is who I am. This is the real me. I’m selfish. I don’t think about other people. Over and over again, same story.”
“You know that’s not true, at least not anymore.”
She gestured toward the door. “You’ve seen firsthand what I’m capable of. I cut my best friend out of my life without a word of warning. I got drunk and kissed my roommate’s ex-boyfriend. Who does that? What kind of monster does that?”
“Did,” Sam said. “Did is the operative word. All that stuff’s in the past. It’s what you told me from the beginning.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes turned hard, erasing the tears that had threatened to spill. “And what kind of person lets someone like that into his life?”
“Excuse me?”
She took a second, as if really thinking this through, then said, “It’s been bugging me the whole ride home. Why would you—why would anyone—trust me after all the things I’ve done? I’m honestly asking.”
“Tinka.” He was walking a tightrope right now. This conversation could end a few different ways—with her fleeing or with her agreeing to stick it out and talk through the problem. She was right on the edge of bolting. “I know you. Right from the start, you’ve been honest with me. I’ve never thought you were perfect. You’ve shown me all your flaws, and I accept them. I always have.”
She frowned, the moonlight hitting her face at harsh angles. “Why?”
Tinka was about to exit his life forever. Sam felt it in his bones. “Be—because I’ve seen how you want to make up for those things. I know you regret what happened between you and Karen and Jane, and you don’t want to make those mistakes again.” He reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out the bag Maurice had tossed him earlier at the video store. Desperate times. “I…I care about you, Tinka. I think, more than I can even say.”
She held the bag, but didn’t open it. “You care about some idea of me you’ve concocted. You see me as you want to see me.”
“I see you as you are.”
She shook her head and handed the bag back to him, her jaw tense. “I’m a pretty girl who started talking to you, and you’re willing to give me the benefit of the doubt because of it. You don’t like me, Sam. You like the idea of me. You like the fact that I like you. Let’s be honest.”
Her words filled the space between them as if they had mass. They were almost corporeal. Sam crumpled the bag slowly, then shoved it back into his pocket. “Is that really how little you think of me?” he whispered.
“You had a choice between me and no one, basically. You chose me because what other options did you have?”
His mouth fell open.
“I’m trying to do you a favor here, Sam. I’m thinking of someone else for once. You should stay away from me. It’s for your own good.” She turned and clutched the door handle again.
“Maybe you have done me a favor,” he said. “There was something between us, a real connection. At least I thought there was. I was willing to see past the stuff you told me about, not because of how you looked, but because of who I thought you were.” He paused. “But I’m starting to think I was wrong about you, about all of it. Since apparently you only see me as this ugly sad sack who has to take what he can get.”
“I didn’t mean that.” She turned toward him again, her lip trembling. “That’s not what I—Sam, that’s not what I think.”
“Well, it’s what you said, so what am I supposed to believe? Seems to me you think I’d have to date someone who’d treat me like shit because no one else would have me. You’re no better than Harper and Matthew or any of them.”
“That’s not true.” She reached toward him, and he backed away.
“You know what?” He faced forward, and put his hands on the steering wheel. “This is actually great. We started fake dating because neither of us wanted to get attached. It didn’t work, though, because I was starting to fall for you, but now…”
“Sam, I didn’t mean it.”
“Sure you did. It’s fine. It’s better than fine. We’ll go our separate ways and be able to leave for our respective schools in August. No tears, no drama.”
He aimed his face forward, though he could feel her eyes on him. After a few moments of silence, Tinka threw open the door, slammed it, and ran up to her house. She’d left the truck, but her words stayed behind with Sam.
Chapter Thirteen
Tinka slammed the front door and glared out the window as Sam’s truck backed down the driveway and out onto the street. How dare he! How. Dare. He…
How dare he…what? Dump her? Tell her to go to hell? It was what she’d been practically begging him to do.
She never thought he’d do it. Not her Sam. He wasn’t supposed to give up on her—on them—that easily. She was the flighty one. She was the one who’d bail. He was supposed to keep pushing back against her until he convinced her to see things his way. But she’d pushed him too far.
Shit. She literally did ruin everything.
“Tinka?”
She spun around, startled. She wasn’t the only one home. As far as she knew, Karen and Jane were still in town doing Christmas things. She’d assumed her parents would be, too.
But no, they were in the living room with Dylan’s parents, and Dylan himself, sitting on the couches, whose drop cloths had been removed for the occasion. The adults were all drinking beers or hard ciders. Dylan had a can of pop in his hand, and he was staring at her, mouth wide open.
“Join us!” Tinka’s mom said, completely missing the fact that her teenage daughter was in a messy, crying tailspin. She swung her hand around the room to indicate that they were all having a lovely, festive time in their Christmas paraphernalia. Also, Tinka could tell by the unfocused glassiness of her mom’s eyes that she was drunk.
Oh hell no. No thank you.
Tinka gave them a courtesy wave and marched through the living room, into the kitchen, and out the sliding glass doors leading to the back yard. She trekked across the deck—not even once peeking at Sam’s house, for which she was very proud of herself—through the grass, and down to the lake, where she perched on the decrepit pier.
She stared out at the water,
which shone black and shimmering under the moon and stars. Her brain kept begging her to look back at Sam’s house, but she wouldn’t. She would not.
Her entire existence was a disaster. She checked her phone. Still no replies from either Jane or Karen.
A strong desire to run hit Tinka. What if she…escaped, started over somewhere new. North Pole was a bust, like Minneapolis had been before she left for Florian’s. And down in South Carolina, she’d been able to create a new life for herself, and a fun, new identity. That had worked out well, hadn’t it?
Until she’d blown it by hooking up with Jane’s ex.
“Want some company?” came Dylan’s voice from behind her.
“I’m good.” Still focused on the water, she willed him to get lost.
“Okay, well. I’m going to sit over here on this structurally unsound bench with this bottle of cider I stole from your parents’ cooler, if you change your mind.” Tinka heard his feet swishing through the grass.
Eyes to the moon, Tinka gave him the news. Everyone was going to find out eventually. “Sam and I broke up.”
“Sorry.”
“Please. You’re glad. You never thought we were right for each other anyway, and you’ve been hitting on me all summer.” Her lip trembled.
“Well, yeah, but still. You seem bummed about it, so that sucks.”
“It does suck.”
A flash of loneliness hit her, of true despair. She hadn’t felt this way since her parents dragged her to North Pole a few weeks ago, since they’d told her they’d sold the house in Minneapolis. Sam had been the one to bring her out of that funk, and now he never wanted to see her again. She couldn’t blame him. She’d basically called him a loser. There was no coming back from that.
She and Sam were never going to talk again. She was never going to hear his thoughts on this new movie or that old one. He wasn’t going to sit on the counter and make her laugh while she baked cookies. She’d lost yet another best friend.
“I love him,” she told the lake. “I love Sam.”
Artificial Sweethearts (North Pole, Minnesota) Page 16