If Only

Chapter 9 - Floating

Cause a flame from just one spark

Fill the room with smoke so harsh

She exhales a memory

-Tyler Childers; Tattoos

*~~~~&~~~~*

Sammy POV

"Heyo!" Paige exclaimed, waggling her eyebrows.

I took a minute to look around me, feeling utterly stupid for having assumed the bar to be like all the ones I saw on television, despite Lizzy's reassurances. The small area was filled with people, but not too much to where it felt suffocating. The somewhat dim lighting and moderate noise made me feel more at ease, knowing that flying under the radar at a place like this was no particularly difficult task.

"Not to be dramatic or anything, but I think I'm going to rip my ears off if I hear you say that again," Nia proclaimed, which only had me laughing in response.

"And miss out on the music?" Paige argued, and I suddenly realized there was a man with a large beard singing towards the front of the bar, a guitar in his hands.

"I'm considering it," Nia complained, giving Paige a very pointed look.

"You're just adding more fuel to her fire, Nia," Will smirked, resulting in Paige elbowing him lightly.

"Don't give away my secrets, babe," she whispered, yet somehow managed to say it loud enough we all heard her anyhow.

Will only shook his head with what I assumed to be absurdity. Nia suddenly came over towards me, throwing an arm over my shoulder and I involuntarily flinched away, not expecting the action. She looked at me oddly for a moment, but I refused to meet her gaze.

"Do I smell that bad?" she joked, and I felt a weight lift off of my chest knowing she wasn't going to take it seriously.

"Horrible," I chided, which had her unwrapping her arm from around and hip bumping me so hard I knocked against someone on my left. Sparks shot through me at the brief touch, and I peered up to see Greyson staring down at me.

A small smirk presented itself on his lips, the scruff around them having grown out just past a five o'clock shadow. I wondered if he was growing a beard. Judging from his ample amount of hair, that somehow managed to be unruly and flawless all at once, it wouldn't be much of a difficulty for him. He was wearing a loose brown flannel paired with jeans, looking as though he was plucked straight from a magazine and placed into this bar.

"Hey," I smiled.

"How are you?"

"I'm good...great actually." I answered honestly for once. The past week I had felt lighter than I had in months. "How are you? Settling in alright?"

"For the most part," he responded, which sent a little pang of curiosity through me, which he must have noticed.

"My dad is on my ass, same as always," he admitted, obviously having seen my curiosity I unsuccessfully attempted to push away.

"I'm sorry, that must be stressful right as you're getting home," I said, and surprisingly enough I felt a surge of... annoyance?

I hardly knew Greyson, and had only heard brief mentions of his father. So why did I feel so irritated that he was treating Greyson poorly? I shook my head slightly, this time successfully pushing away the emotions being evoked from me.

"Is what it is," he answered, obviously not wanting to go into further detail.

"I'm glad you could make it," he suddenly grinned, and I forced the increasing beat of my heart to slow.