“Will you ever move past it?” My voice shakes so hard I wonder if he can hear me. “Are we just wasting our time, or can we get back to how things used to be? How we used to be before…”
“Before what Bree?” He snaps, standing up and looking down at me with that cold, sneer again. All emotion is gone from his voice. “The baby? Say it. Go ahead, say it. We were going to have a baby. A baby we were so excited for. A baby that we wanted, despite everything. And we lost him, because of you.”
***
I rush into class-late as always-just as the professor begins his lecture. He eyes me wearily as I slide into my seat next to Sam and I offer him a sheepish shrug. Sam, on the other hand, smiles and slides a bottle of vanilla coke over to me. His smile is so bright it makes me want to break down and cry all over again. It’s nothing big; no broad cheesy beaming here. But his lips turn up at the corners, and his eyes are full of light. I wish desperately that I had stayed at his house this morning like he had asked.
I can feel Sam’s x-ray gaze on me. It’s annoying and unnerving. He knows something is up and I don’t know how to hide anything from him. But I try. I try because I can’t think about what happened this morning, hell, what’s been happening for the past year.
I read the same slide five times and I don’t retain a single thing. I try to take notes, but I can’t focus. Finally, I drop my pen and look at him. He’s just staring, unashamedly.
“What?” I mouth. His eyes linger on my lips for a fraction of a second before they snap back to my eyes. His face doesn’t show anything. How is it fair that he can read me like a children's book, yet trying to get anything out of him is like reading a foreign language?
He leans so closely, his lips brush my ear when he speaks. “Are you okay?”
My stomach dips and I’m ashamed that I can feel this level of attraction to Sam when Ryan was able to break my heart only an hour ago.
“It’s nothing,” I stare at a spot on the table, refusing to look at him.
Sam doesn’t need to know about my encounter with Ryan this morning. He knows enough as it is.
“Aubree,” The way he says my name demands that I look at him. I compose my face to show no emotion and I meet his gaze.
“Sam, I’m fine,” I say firmly. He holds eye contact but he doesn’t say a word. His face is blank, but his eyes are expressive. If you look close enough into the mossy green, you can see a hint of emotion. An ounce of conviction.
It makes me squirm. I look away and pretend to take more notes. After a few minutes, he turns his attention back to the papers he’s grading. I relax back into my chair, feeling the weight of his gaze lifted.
When class is over, we pack up our things in silence. I fall into step next to him on the way out into the hallway. Sam opens his mouth to question me again so I change the subject quickly.
“So I know we usually hang out on Fridays but I have a family obligation that I can’t get out of or I will literally never hear the end of it,” I say, referring to the charity gala my mother has been pestering me about for weeks. My presence is required. They may all hate me but that doesn’t look good to my mother’s friends. We have an image to uphold, Bree. And you owe it to us to show up for one hour, smile, and pretend you’re not an ungrateful brat. Or maybe it was ‘ungrateful snot’. I don’t know, there are so many lectures they begin to run together.
“That’s fine,” Sam replies. “I actually have something tonight too, so it works out.”
I want to ask what he’s doing tonight. I want to ask who he has plans with. But I shouldn’t. There are a lot of things I shouldn’t be doing with Sam.
“Okay,” I say as we reach the hall where my next class is. “See you Monday.”
I begin to turn down the hallway, but Sam stops me. His hand circles my wrist, tugging me to a halt.
“Call me if you need anything, okay?” he says softly.
I bite the inside of my cheek. I warn myself not to show my emotions.
He sees them anyway. He sees everything.
His hand slips off my wrist and he lets me walk off. His eyes follow me all the way to my next class.
Chapter 13
Bree
Present Day
“We’re still on for girl’s weekend right?” Elle asks, leaning over the nurse’s station to talk to Maddie and me.
“You do realize every weekend is girl’s weekend, right?” I say flatly, looking up from my computer. “We all kind of live together.”
“Yeah, but we never all three have the whole weekend off to go spend in Charleston!” Elle slaps my arm.
I smirk, “I know, I know. I’m just being a brat.”
“I thought that was just your personality?” Maddie giggles.
“Ohhhh, shots fired!” Elle gasps.
I hold my hand up to Mads for a high five. “I’ll make a smart ass of you yet.”
“Sooooo are we on for our spontaneous excursion?” Elle asks us.
“Well...that’s the problem with spontaneity,” I frown. “Elena asked me to cover her shift tomorrow, like weeks ago, I totally forgot about it until she reminded me today.”
“Boo!” Maddie pouts. “I wanted to go to the cute boutique on King Street.”
“And I already booked us a hotel!” Elle juts out her bottom lip.
“Well y’all should still go, I’ll see if I can find someone to cover the shift and I’ll drive up to meet you if I can.”
“Okay fine,” Elle grumbles. “I’ll ask around too.”
She flounces off and Maddie grabs her keys. “Well, I’m out. I’m gonna go pack.” She says, hugging me as she stands. “Ask Kayla if she can cover for you, she’s always picking up extra shifts.”
“Kayla’s mad at me,” I tell her simply, turning back to my computer.
“Why, what’d you say this time?” She laughs nervously.
“She was rambling about her sex life and asked me why she can’t keep a boyfriend so I gave her my honest opinion.” I shrug.
“Which was…?”
“I just told her to stop being dumb and expecting to get a boyfriend out of a one night stand that she met on Tinder,” I say, exasperated that more people don’t understand this. It’s really not that complicated.
“What are we going to do with you?” She sighs, throwing her purse over her shoulder. “Well, apologize and ask her to cover your shift, its girl’s weekend!”
“Apologize for what? I was being helpful.” She shoots me a looks as she rounds the corner and my laughter follows her down the hall.
***
Kayla did not want to cover my shift. Not sure why, I gave her some more really good dating advice…
But neither could Denise, Rachel, or Laura so it looks like I’m staying home this weekend. Elle says she had no luck either, but surprisingly she didn’t seem too disappointed when she told me this. Not that I’m super disappointed either, I haven’t had the house to myself in forever. I’m going to go straight home, make some pasta and watch as many seasons of The Office as I can in one night.
I stop on my way home and pick up the dress and shoes my mom got me for the stupid gala I have to go to next weekend. And in true fashion, she calls me in the most inconvenient moment as I’m trying the wrestle the human-sized garment bag and box of shoes out of my car.
“Yes mother, I’ll be there.” I answer, shoving the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I try to get the front door unlocked with my arms full of bags. “I got the shoes and I am currently lugging a dress inside that probably costs more than my house.”
“You got the dress?”
“Yes,” No, I was lying to you mother.
“And the shoes?”
“Yes,” Was she listening when I answered?
“And you’re sure you’ll be there?”
“Yes mother,” Didn’t I just say that, like two seconds ago?
“Because you weren’t there last year,” She huffs. “And you know this is the only event of the year I ever
ask you to attend.”
“Mother,” I sigh, swinging the front door open and kicking it shut behind me. “I said I would be there. I’ve got my dress, my shoes, and my emergency flask in case you bribe the bartender not to serve me again. I. Will. Be. There.”
“Fine, fine.” She huffs, ignoring my last comment. “But be there at eight sharp, okay? There are some people I want to introduce you to.”
“Mother,” I growl. I drop my armful onto the counter and put her on speaker so I can make my pasta. “If ‘people’ means men, then no. I have no interest in your snooty friends’ sons.”
Every single one of them is a pretentious tool that tries to order my drinks for me and looks at me like I’m a piece of meat while they drone on endlessly about their private planes and business endeavors that bore me to death. I have zero interest in being cornered by another one of my mother’s picks for me. And they have no interest in me either, only the Harrington name. It’s disgusting the way these people mate up based on money and title. I doubt there’s a single man my mother would approve of that I would have remotely any interest in.
Well. That’s not entirely true. I’m very interested in one of them, and I have a good feeling that he’ll be there.
“Oh don’t be so dramatic Bree,” She growls back. I yank my scrub top off and toss it in the general vicinity of the laundry room while she yammers on. “It’s high time you start dating again, you aren’t getting any younger. Soon you won’t be able to rely on your looks to find a suitable husband.”
I make a gagging noise in the back of my throat as I pull a pot out of the cabinet and fill it with water. “God. Mother, listen yourself. I do not need your help in my dating life or otherwise.”
“And why can’t a mother be concerned about her only daughter?” She asks as if I’m the one being outrageous. “I’m worried about you, Bree! I don’t want you to die alone! Why don’t you just let me introduce you to some very nice young men?”
I slam the pot down on the stove and in the moment of sheer frustration with my overbearing and pompous mother, I do the one thing I know how to do best to shut her up and get her off my back.
I lie.
“Because there is nothing to be concerned about!” I tell her haughtily. “I’m seeing someone, believe it or not. Someone you would very much approve of. He’s a doctor.”
She gasps and I roll my eyes. Both at her and myself. That was a stupid move. Stupid stupid stupid.
“Well, who is he? Will you be bringing him to the gala? Who are his parents?”
Aaaaaand that’s why.
Hi, my name is Bree and I’d like to check myself into this fine mental institution on account of ME BEING INSANE FOR TELLING MY MOTHER THAT.
“Um, maybe. I don’t know. He’s really busy. Super busy. Probably can’t come.”
“Oh nonsense, Aubree Harrington, you will bring this young man to meet me or you will never hear the end of it, do you hear me?”
I slap my hand over my face and sigh, trying to back pedal. “I don’t know if he’ll be able to make it, mom.”
Why, why, WHY did I have to open my big fat mouth?!
“Well for the love of God, at least tell me his name!” She screeches.
I cave. I cave hard. I yell the one name that comes to mind and I want to take it back before the words are even all the way out.
“Sam Hudson!”
Damn him! This is his fault for popping up and burrowing himself into the forefront of my mind!
I look down at my phone in denial that this is happening, hoping to God that I accidentally hung up on her before I said his name. But no, the call is still connected, the seconds counting down slowly to my demise.
It’s her silence that worries me. My mother is only ever silent when she’s asleep or has gotten her way and I can just see the evil, triumphant smile on her face right now.
What. Did. I. Just. Do?
“Mom…?” I say weakly.
“Oh, I’m here dear.” She says in a soft and sweet voice that I haven’t heard since I was little and cute and not at all rebellious. “I was just going through my stack of RSVPs and I found Sam’s. How wonderful is that!”
“But mom-”
“I will see you two next weekend!” She sings.
“Mom!”
I look down at my phone in a panic, but all I see is my screensaver. The old hag hung up on me!
“Motherfu-”
“Aubree?”
“Oh!” I scream, spinning around and clutching my chest. I suck in a shaky breath as my eyes settle on Sam, leaning against the doorway staring at me with a curious smile. He has a towel loosely tied around his hips. And nothing else.
“What the hell are you doing Sam?!” I gasp, irritated. Adrenaline is pumping roughly through my veins. “You just about gave me a heart attack!”
“You yelled my name,” he says matter-of-factly, but I can see the smile in his eyes.
“I mean what are you doing here, in my house?” My eyes drop to his bare chest, water dripping down the taut muscle. “And...Naked.”
“Well, I was taking a shower when I heard you call my name. I thought something was wrong, so I came to investigate,” he gives me a lopsided grin that melts away any irritation.
“Is there a reason that you’re not showering at your own house?” I ask him, still a little breathless.
“Pipe burst, I have no water until it’s fixed,” he tells me, an amused quirk still lingering on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow at me. “I talked to Elle an hour ago, she said y’all were headed to Charleston and I could stay here.”
I roll my eyes and can’t help but laugh. “Well, that’s funny because I talked to her less than twenty minutes ago and she was all of the sudden totally fine with me missing our girls weekend.”
“Sneaky little shits, aren’t they?” He muses, grinning. He kicks off the wall and prowls over to me. “How’s that heart? Not going to attack you, I hope.”
I take an involuntary step back and my hips meet the counter. I’m not one hundred percent sure that I’m not going to have a heart attack with a half-naked Sam closing in on me like this. His hands grip the counter on either side of my hips and now my lungs won’t work right. I look up from his abs, droplets of water still running across his tan skin. His eyes are full of an intense heat I’ve never seen before. They scroll down the length of my body and I realize, I’m shirtless too.
“Is everything okay?” he asks me, his voice innocent.
“No,” I say, lifting my chin defiantly. I have decided this is his fault for popping back up into my life so randomly. “Everything is not okay.”
“What’s going on?” He asks calmly, but his lips twitch like they’re trying not to smile at me.
“You, you are what’s going on!” I cross my arms over my chest and wonder what it is about this man that makes me behave like a child. Probably the endearing way he’s grinning at me right now. He thinks my temper tantrums are cute.
They are not cute, Sam. Stop grinning at me.
“And what did I do to upset you so?” Only Sam could say some shit like upset you so and it sound sexy. Or maybe it’s because he’s basically naked. I don’t really know. But regardless, it makes me fight a dopey grin.
“My mother approves of you!” I tell him, probably more dramatically than necessary, but whatever.
“So?” He grins.
“Sooo,” I uncross my arms and cross them back nervously. “When she harassed me endlessly about who I was bringing to the charity gala I told her it was you! And that we’re seeing each other!”
I decided about halfway through there that it may be less embarrassing if I make it seem like this is all his fault.
“Okay,” He shrugs casually. “We’ll go together then.”
I slump against the counter and unfold my arms weakly. “What, you don’t already have a date?”
“Not to this one.” He winks.
I analyze that sentence for much longer than a normal p
erson would. Sam leans closer and when his lips brush my ear, I forget what we were talking about.
“You should probably take your pants off,” he rasps, his voice right by my ear.
“What?” I gasp, my eyes snapping back to his.
“Your pants, they have blood on them,” A playful smile spreads across his face as he backs away and he nods to the pot of boiling water on the stove. “You should probably take them off before you cook. It’s unsanitary.”
With a wink, he turns and walks back down the hallway. I melt onto the floor where I sit in a heap until I catch my breath.
***
Sam
I walk to the bathroom and climb back into the shower. I turn the water to cold and stand there for a good fifteen minutes. I can’t get the look on her face out of my head. The way her eyes darkened with desire. The way her lips parted as she looked up at me, daring me to kiss her. And dammit, I almost did. I’m starting to think I should have.
But I just got her back in my life, I couldn’t risk pushing her away just yet.
I shut off the shower and grab a towel, taking my time drying off and getting dressed. I walk back into the kitchen with my gym bag slung over my shoulder. Aubree’s cooking, now fully dressed in a pair of jeans and a Gryffindor T-shirt. I can’t help but chuckle, remembering how obsessed she is with all things Harry Potter. Half the time we laid out on the beach or hung around my house, if she wasn’t talking or pretending to study, she was reading Harry Potter. Not that I can say anything, I read the books to my sisters growing up. I’m probably a bigger Harry Potter dork than she is, not that I’d ever tell her that. She would tease me mercilessly.
“You hungry?” She asks, glancing at me over her shoulder from where she’s standing at the stove. She’s stirring a big pot of something that smells rich and buttery.
“Now, where did you learn to cook?” I ask, walking over and peering into the pot over her shoulder.
“Pinterest,” she grins, turning her head slightly so we’re face to face. She holds my gaze for a few long seconds, her jewel-colored eyes glimmering with the most beautiful light I’ve ever seen. She turns back to the pot and adds some parmesan, giving it one final stir. “This is my famous tortellini soup. And by famous I mean the only thing I can’t screw up.”
A Sea of Lies Page 8