Another Love Story (Book 2.5 of selection fanfics)

Chapter 7

I hopped up to sit on the counter, letting my legs dangle off the side as the lasagna's aroma began to fill the room. Sam busied himself with cleaning up the rest of the kitchen, though I didn't really know what he was cleaning. We'd barely made any mess.

Once he finished cleaning the already spotless kitchen, Sam leaned against the counter across from me, staring thoughtfully as he tilted his head gently to the side.

"What?" I found myself blurting as his eyes seemed to stare into mine. I wouldn't deny that his eyes really were mesmerizing. Like little pools of gold that you could just melt into.

He raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

"You-you were staring," I sputtered, blushing as I embarrassed myself further.

"I was thinking," he smirked and crossed his arms.

"About?"

"I don't think you want to know what I was thinking about," he ducked his head, almost as if he was embarrassed. But before I could say anything else, he looked back up at me and a small laugh escaped his lips.

"What!" I exclaimed, exasperated by his vague words and behavior.

"Nothing. You just...here," he pushed off the counter, walking towards me until we were face to face. Well, more face to chin. I had to lean up just slightly to look him in the eye.

I flinched as his hand came towards my face, expecting him to hit me, anything other than what he did. His hand cupped my cheek gently, his thumb brushing away a patch of flour that had clung to my skin.

I could see the hurt in his eyes when he saw me flinch. But his hand never left my cheek as I murmured a quiet thanks. The caramel pools of his eyes drew me in even deeper as he never moved his gaze away from me.

I don't really know who actually moved first. Only that Sam's head suddenly ducked down to mine, his lips meeting mine in a surprisingly gentle kiss. It wasn't my first. But my experience with kissing was generally limited to high school boys and the school playground.

That didn't even begin to compare to what it felt like to kiss Sam.

The hand that cupped my cheek pulled me closer to him, the other tangling in my hair. I gripped the front of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric in my hands. I kissed him like he was oxygen and I couldn't breathe.

BEEP! BEEP!

The oven timer had Sam practically leaping away from me, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as his cheeks burned. I cleared my throat, adjusting my hair and the skirt of my dress as I slid off the counter. Sam looked as though he didn't quite know what to do as I rushed to grab the lasagna, trying not to burn myself in the process.

"It's done," I managed to say, a weak and embarrassed smile crossing my face.

"Right," Sam laughed nervously. I'd never seen him so flustered as he attempted to smooth his shirt. The shirt that I'd rumpled.

My face flushed as I did my best to avoid his gaze, using the lasagne to distract me. To stop me from pulling him towards me again, to stop me from kissing him. To stop me from spiraling into something that would only end badly.

We were silent as I cut us each a piece, trying to ignore what had just happened. All this time, we'd treated each other like garbage, teasing and mocking the other endlessly. And yet, something had shifted. Or maybe we'd felt this strange attraction all along and chosen to disregard it.

Whatever it was, it didn't stop me from noticing the way Sam's hand brushed along mine as we reached for a plate. I didn't want to be the one to say anything, to break the silence stretched taut between us. So I waited for him to take a bite, for his reaction to the recipe I held close to my heart.