9: It Was Pointless To Pretend

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"You can't ignore me forever." Sam was watching me closely, clearly expecting me to say something about what happened. However, I was doing a wonderful job at pretending that things weren't definitely awkward as hell. In order to accomplish that, I just kept telling myself that I wasn't in Sam's house, sat on one side of his couch, facing the side that Sam himself occupied.

Unfortunately, that was exactly where I was.

The drive after school was painfully silent, consumed by the overwhelming feeling that we were both anticipating something. What it was, I didn't think that either of us really knew. On my end, it was probably the inevitable fight we were going to get into when I tried to explain my side. On his, it could have been anything. The jury was still out on that one.

However, it wasn't for long since Sam suddenly furrowed his brow and quietly asked, "Was it that bad?"

I groaned, looking up at the ceiling because it was easier than looking at him. "No. I don't think it was."

"You don't?" I could hear the hopefulness in his tone, and it made me even more nervous than I already was. Who knew what Sam was expecting me to say, but he was obviously relieved.

"It's complicated."

"Complicated? How so?" He sounded even more excited.

Finally, I dropped my gaze to his and sighed. "In every way imaginable. Do I even have to explain?"

"Yes." He deadpanned.

"Well, for starters, you are a boy. I am a boy. At no point did I ever think I was attracted to boys in any way. And on top of that, I hate you. Or at least I thought I hated you. I mean, we've spent all of these years pissing each other off, how is it even possible that you could still manage to be attracted to me? Are you a masochist or something?" Once I started explaining all of the reasons that I was deeply perturbed by the way things were playing out, I found that it was hard to stop. There was too much that I needed to say or else I would explode.

Sam furrowed his brow, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his palms. "What's it matter, though? If you liked the kiss, then you liked the kiss. And who cares if I'm a boy, or if we've hated each other in the past. No one says that we have to hate each other. I'm not a masochist, I just might have terrible taste."

I scoffed. "You're saying that I'm a part of that terrible taste?"

"Yes. You're one of the most dramatic and obstinate people I have ever met. But I guess I find that very endearing, because I've been wanting to kiss since the day I first saw you." Sam told me honestly.

"Are you gay? I'm not gay, at least, I don't think I am."

"No." He didn't even hesitate.

"Now I'm even more confused."

He shook his head. "I was really confused at first, but I honestly learned that I just don't care. I'm not usually attracted to boys, and I've never found another one that I've had any urge to be with. But I've definitely been attracted to you all this time."

"I don't think I've felt the same." I replied, but then I faltered slightly. Just like that, I ended up right back at the internal conflict I was grueling over nonstop. "But..."

His eyes lit up. "But what?"

"But I did like that kiss." My face went red.

Sam didn't even try to hide the grin that broke out on his face. It was a stark contrast to the otherwise ghastly display of bruises. "Then what are you so afraid of?"

"You." I answered helplessly.

His face softened. "I may have the capabilities of being an asshole, but I'm definitely nothing to be feared."

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