The Thing About Samuel

Chapter Twenty-Three - Samuel

Samuel - June 2019

Sam pressed the button of the shower and braced as the initial spurts of cold water poured down from above. Soon, clouds of steam were enveloping him, and he could feel the heat prickling at his numb fingers, feet, and legs. He sighed with relief.
​He knew he had about thirty seconds before he should push the button again on the shower controls to keep the flow of water constant and not have to put up with being plunged into the cool of the early afternoon campsite air that waited at the shower cubicle door.
​As the water poured over Sam's head, he recalled the whirlwind of the last few days. From the note in the tent, the panic attack, Isla... Billy... Arty... His lip trembled, and not in a long while had he felt this trapped, and scared.
​So, what, he had a secret! Maybe it didn't matter to anyone but him? Would it be easier if he just said it out loud?
​Sam opened his eyes and looked at the white tiled wall. He breathed in slow, and out, summoning some kind of courage from inside. He listened for the other showers either side of him, but it sounded like he was alone for now.
​'I like...' he said aloud, at first trying to gauge how loud he was speaking. His voice cracking from barely a whisper into what felt like a shout.
​Could he really do this? Could he say this?
​'I...'
​He breathed again.
​'I know your secret,' he spoke to himself. Frustration bubbled and he tensed his fists against the wall of the shower. He had never intended for this to be a secret. He didn't even see it as a secret himself. It was just something he hadn't yet figured out. Something he wasn't even sure of. Perhaps the kiss would be what he needed?
​Billy's dare of kissing Isla might give him the answers he had been looking for after all. Not that it would tell him who had written the note in the first place, but perhaps if his so-called-secret was actually true would be confirmed by his lips against hers.
'I know your secret,' he mumbled again.
'Sam?'
The voice was familiar, and Sam felt his heart sink down to his feet.
​Sam's heart thumped from his chest, against the tiles behind the shower, and back. He stared at the water as it ran over his feet.
​'Is that you?' the voice pressed on.
​How long could he not reply? With every second of silence there was a chance they would go away and then he could sneak out and nobody would know it was him inside the shower. But what had he said up until now that meant he needed to hide? Nothing.
​'Yes,' he replied. 'It's me.'
​'Everything alright?' Joe's called from outside the showers.
​'Yeah. Fine,' Sam responded, pushing the button once more to avoid having to go out of the shower and face Joe.
​'We're heading up to the Wasdale Head Inn soon. Your dad said to come let you know.'
​'I'll be there soon.'
​'Cool.' Joe's footsteps soon tapped their way out of the shower block, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't hear anything. Sam placed his hand around the shower button and tried to pull the button towards him, easing the shower to a stop, before grabbing his towel and trying to beat the wave of cool air from hitting his body before he could slip into his jeans and t-shirt.
​As Sam stepped out of the shower block and into the brisk air of the campsite, he heard his dad's voice call out.
'There you are!' A smile from his dad sent an instant wave of relaxation through his body. 'It's a Fish and Chips special tonight at the pub. Well-earned after the hike today I think!'
​'Sounds good!'
​His dad hopped in front of him and crouched down slightly, levelling his eyes with Sam's. 'Everything alright?' he smiled.
​For a brief second, Sam thought it was time to tell his dad what was on his mind. But looking at his face, at the one person he had left in this world, what would happen if he never looked at him again this way? That same adoration. That unfaltering connection. Since his mum passed away him and his dad had grown closer and closer. He couldn't risk losing that. He couldn't risk the version of Sam that existed in his dad's head to be thrown into question. He pushed the words down from his mouth and into his stomach with a gulp, lifted his lips into a smile, and nodded.
​'Yes. Good. Just tired. Probably need some Fish and Chips in me!'
​'Good. Let's get going. You might want to grab a jumper first! It's going to drop cold later when we're on our way back to the tents.' With a pat to Sam's back, his dad moved off towards the huddle of the other campers. Sam swiftly moved towards his tent.
​Just as he reached for where the zip would normally be, Joe's face appeared, and Sam felt his eyes widen in shock.
​'Ah, finally out of the shower then,' Joe grinned.
​Sam laughed, awkwardly.
​'Yeah. It's warm in there, you know?' Sam offered.
​'I bet,' Joe winked and then moved past Sam with a tap to his shoulder.
​What was that even meant to mean? Sam quickly dismissed it as he hopped inside the tent, dropped his towel and shower gel near his bag, and grabbed his hoodie before closing the door behind him and jogging over to the group.

The evening had comprised of the promised fish and chip special, more rounds of the various board games from the basket by the open fire, and chat of their so-called expedition to the top of Scafell Pike.
​Every time that Sam's eyes had crossed paths with Billy's, he would raise his eyebrows and nod to Isla to which Sam had no reply but to nod knowingly. The sense of some ticking clock of doom resonating in his chest.
​The conversation volume rose, and the adults' laughter grew fuelled by the few rounds of beer that kept making their way to the table. Billy's attempts to keep eye contact as a permanent reminder of the task Sam had been briefed with as a consequence to losing the game to him, all became too much for Sam. At the first opportunity he had, he snuck out of the room pretending to make his way to the toilet but instead took the back door out of the pub that led to a small courtyard by a stream.
​At this time in the evening, where the warmth of the day was just disappearing behind the mountains and the Wasdale Head Inn along with the campsite some way down the road were plunged into an inky darkness, Sam found the trickling stream and quietness of the outside an instant relief. His chest unwound, and he started to breathe normally again.
​'What are you doing out here?' a voice spoke from a shadow sat at one of the wooden pub benches that perched on a stone platform overlooking the stream.
​'Just needed a breather. It's warm in there,' Sam offered.
​He observed Joe for a second who shrugged then turned back away from Sam to face the river. In his hand, he held his mobile phone into the air.
​'There's no signal anywhere around here,' he grumbled.
​'Isn't that a good thing?' Sam smiled as he tentatively moved towards the bench.
​'What are you wanting signal for?'
​Joe glanced to Sam and surveyed him before looking back to the stream. 'Doesn't matter. You sitting on here are you?'
​Sam instantly felt awkward but then Joe shuffled further down and his sideways glance to the seat he had now created Sam took as an offering of a seat.
​'How are you finding the trip?' Sam asked as he slowly lowered himself onto the seat beside Joe.
​A faint whiff of his aftershave, paired with the scent of a washing powder that still clung to the hoodie that he wore, made its way to Sam's nostrils. It felt calming, and welcoming. There was something about Joe. He was sporty, and not like the boys that Sam had often had as friends throughout school. Sam hadn't ever minded P.E. lessons, but was always more of a fan of lunch time clubs, video games, and reading. And here sat a boy that was seemingly the opposite to all of those things, and yet he seemed familiar. There was something about him that he liked.
​Joe turned to face him, and his eyebrows arched.
​'What are you staring at?' he laughed.
​Sam had been focussing on Joe's lips at that precise moment but having been called out on it felt a surge of warmth flush up to his cheeks, and instead instantly shot his gaze to the dark trickling water. Which, at this moment, he wished he could somehow shrink his human body down into a miniature dinghy and be whisked away in its current. Far away from Joe and this awkward situation.
​'You're an odd one, Sam. Always so quiet. Staring at me. Mumbling to yourself in the shower.'
​Sam quickly turned to face Joe. Oh crap, he had heard him after all.
​'And yet, there's something Isla likes about you.'
​Sam's heart gave a thud.
​'She likes me?'
​'Don't get carried away. I think it's as a friend,' Joe commented quickly, somewhat disgruntled.
​'That's fine. I – I like her, as a friend, too,' he tried to comfort Joe.
​'Great,' Joe shrugged.
​They sat in silence for a minute, and Sam tried his best not to keep looking at Joe in a way that suggested it was actually him that Sam might be interested in as 'more than a friend' over Isla. He did manage to sneak a peek at his eyes as the light from the walls outside the pub bounced across them. And then suddenly Joe's whole body turned to face him, and he placed a hand on Sam's shoulder.
​'Do you reckon...' Joe started and squinted his eyes in consideration of Sam. Sam's curiosity was piqued. Joe bit his lip, and Sam felt a stir somewhere beneath his jeans causing him to shuffle into a different position. Joe brought him in closer, their faces now only inches away from each other. Joe glanced around them.
​'Do you reckon you could help me with Isla?' he asked, and Sam was surprised at how sincere the question was. Joe threw his arm around Sam's shoulder and pulled him closer still. Sam could feel the tickle of Joe's breaths against his cheeks. His beautiful, deep eyes were now only an inch or so away. His lips, those lips, were so close... Sam could just...
​'What do you say?' Joe's breath puffed against Sam's lips and he couldn't push the urge beneath anymore.
​Sam leaned in, his heartbeat travelling up to his lips as they pressed into Joe's and for a second, they stayed there. Sam daren't open his eyes, but Joe didn't move until Sam gently moved back.
​As Sam opened his eyes though, Joe looked confused. He didn't speak. He just stared at him.
​'Joe...'
​As Sam went to speak, Joe quickly hopped off the bench and marched towards the pub.
​'Joe, please,' Sam called, shakily as Joe reached the door of the pub. He didn't turn back to face Sam, but he saw him turn his face slightly back in his direction, before shaking his head, and heading inside.
​Sam turned to face the stream, and the quiver inside his body rose to his cheeks and he dropped his face into his hands.
​'Crap.'