chapter 3

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We settle into the tall grass just like I had fantasized, though it was purely Sam's suggestion. I start to wonder if he can read my mind when he lays out two beach towels and steps on them to flatten the grass enough for us to sit amongst it. The lush green towers over our heads as we sit cross-legged and face each other, the dusk soon turning to night in just minutes. We're hidden from everyone and everything just like I thought we'd be, and nightfall only conceals us more.

"I know I said it before, but this really feels like a vacation," I close my eyes and focus on the sounds of the waves off in the distance. They sound serene and calming, like Sam.

"Wait until you go to school in the fall," he purses his lips. "That'll change your mind."

I shrug. "I'm not sure I'll care very much."

"You're not scared to start at a new school?"

"I, mean, yeah. Of course. I'm petrified, actually. But it's still only June so until September comes, I just won't think about it."

"Living in denial is not healthy, Chandler," his lips form a smile, showing me that he's only teasing.

"I know that, Sam," I taunt back. "But everything is fine in moderation. Even living in denial."

He laughs, looking down at his lap. "You're funny."

I'm thankful for the night cast. Otherwise, he would see the pink returning to my already hot cheeks. He's been so kind to me, and I still don't know how to handle it. It goes to show how foreign compassion is in my life, but I'd dare anyone to spend a couple of hours with Sam. I'm sure they'd agree that he's the nicest person in the world. At least, that's what I think.

"When's your birthday?" he suddenly asks.

"April twenty-ninth."

"Really?" he asks, and I nod in reply. "Mine's the twenty-seventh."

I smile. "You've got me by two days. Just like how you got me by two seconds when we were holding our breath yesterday."

"What can I say? I'm always two steps ahead," he jokes. I watch him lean back on his palms that now rest in the sand. He looks comfortable with me. Like he's known me for a long time, and these conversations have occurred time and time again. But I'm starting to think it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Sam. I can just tell that he's like this with everyone, but it still doesn't make me feel any less special.

"Sam?" I say his name again, loving the way it so casually falls off my lips.

He looks up at me again, dark shadows casting along his baby face. Though he still looks young like me, I know he'll be absolutely striking when he gets older. I can tell by his eyes.

"Where's your dad?" I ask. A part of me feels bad but at the same time, I told him about mine. It's only fair.

To my surprise, he shrugs. "Don't know."

"What do you mean?" I crease my brow.

"I mean I have no idea where he is," he traces his finger along the strip of sand in front of him that separates our towels. "I don't even know who he is."

Gulping, I look down. "Oh. Okay. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he dryly laughs, returning his eyes back to me. "You didn't do anything. And it's a fair question."

I nod and hang my head back down, wondering if maybe I should have saved that thought for a couple of weeks down the line, not the third day of knowing him. If it was possible, I'd swallow my tongue right about now.

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