Bruises

Ch.16-You and Me

It was something I refused to admit aloud, but with Sam, I didn't have any nightmares.

Not a single one.

When morning dawned, I was astounded. And then I confused, and blushing, when I realized sometime during the night I had furrowed myself deeply against Sam's chest and his arm was draped over my waist. I just laid there, content, unwilling to get up. Getting up would be facing reality and call me a coward but I didn't want to just yet.

I lifted my gaze to Sam's face. He was still asleep. I marveled at how young he looked while sleeping, how blessedly at ease he appeared. His hair in the front had grown out a bit, the tips hanging slightly in his eyes. I brushed them away, smiling. He was so cute. And handsome. Could you be both?

"How did you sleep?" he asked, without opening his eyes.

I jerked back. "W-what?"

His eyes popped open. One corner of his mouth edged up in amusement. "The nightmares. Did you have any?"

Why couldn't my stupid face just not blush? It was a terrible automatic reaction. "No," I answered quietly, averting my eyes.

"That's good."

"Yeah." I disentangled myself from his arms, sitting up. I moved my hands over my face. "I should probably get back soon."

The blankets rustled as he mirrored my motions. "I'll come with you."

"Sam, you don't have to do that."

"I'm coming," he reiterated. "You said someone broke into your apartment, right? It's not safe to be there by yourself."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"I'm not babysitting you," he chuckled. "I know you're perfectly capable. But I want to make sure you're okay, okay?"

My shoulders slumped in resignation. "Whatever."

"Thank you." He stood and strode from the room, movements agile and confident, and it was amazing how somebody with so much baggage on his shoulders and scars in his past could be so sure. So certain. God knows I was nowhere near being like that.

I stole a moment alon, for myself, and then joined him in Cher's kitchen. He was eating a bowl of cereal.

"Would Cher mind you ravaging through her stuff?" I questioned, seating myself on the couch. Sam shrugged one shoulder.

"It doesn't matter. And I'm not ravaging; it's just cereal."

"Sure."

He shook his head, shoving another spoonful of flakes into his mouth. I flopped back on the couch, blinking up at the ceiling.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Mmhm?"

"Did you ever go to see Dr. Smithson?"

His head whipped around to me. "How do you know him?"

"His number was just around. So did you see him?"

He nodded slowly. "I did. Once."

"Was it beneficial?"

"I guess."

"Sam . . ."

"I really would rather not talk about it," he grumbled. "It wasn't a high point in my life and I don't want to revisit it."

I could respect that.

We spent about another ten minutes before departing, taking our separate cars back. I was aware he followed me the whole way. I wondered if he really was here to stay. I wanted to believe that so bad it hurt.