Sam and Colby: The Asylum

Chapter 3

"So how was your day?" Colby asked, like we were longtime friends.  

            "It was good but now it's weird. Why'd you lie to them?" I asked.    
     
            "It wasn't really a lie," he said.

            "You did not invite me over," I said.

            "No, not technically, but I did intentionally leave my phone in your car and hoped that you'd see the guys coming in after me and do exactly what you did," he said.

            "What? Why?" I asked.

            "Because. You said I wouldn't be missing much if I saw your whole face and inviting you inside specifically for that purpose would sound weird," he said.

            "Oh. Well, you've seen it now," I said, looking over at him.

            "Yes, I have. And like I said, it's a pretty nice face," he responded.

            "Thanks, I guess. Yours isn't too bad, either," I said.

            "Do you have plans tonight? It's a Saturday night and you said you had nothing better to do earlier," Colby said.

            "I...do I have plans tonight?" I asked.

            "Yeah," he said.

            "Well, no," I said.

            "Would you like to?" he asked.

            "Have plans? With you?" I asked.

            "Yes," he said.

            "That depends. What kind of plans?" I asked. He shrugged.

            "I don't know. Like I said, it's Saturday night and we're in LA. All of my friends are going out for their group date night, which I have absolutely no interest in attending. So we should do something," he said. I let out a short laugh.

            "You barely know me," I said.

            "I know. But the only way to get to know someone is to hang out with or talk to them," Colby said.

            "Yeah, you're right," I said.

            "So yes? Plans?" he asked.

            "Sure," I said. What did I have to lose?

            "You 21?" he asked.

            "Yes. One year younger than you, remember?" I asked.

            "Oh yeah. Want to go to a club or something?" he asked. I looked down.

            "This isn't really a clubbing-type outfit," I said.

            "Are you kidding? Yes it is. It's hot. What kind of things do you wear to a club?" he asked.

            "I don't know, usually a dress or at least a crop top," I said, trying to ignore the fact that he called me hot. Well, no. He called my outfit hot. He looked at me.

            "What are you wearing under that shirt?" he asked, referring to the straps that were clearly visible. I realized I was wearing an overlay bralette. It was black and lacy and went down to just above my belly button. I had worn it clubbing before.

            "Oh. Something I would and have worn to a club," I said.

            "Perfect! Let's go with that," he said. "You ready to go?"

            "What, now?" I asked. I looked out of his sliding glass door and realized it was already dark outside. The sun had been setting when Colby jumped into my car. I looked down at my phone and saw that it was already 10pm because the sun set late during the summer.

            "Yeah, now," he said.

            "Well, okay," I said. Why not? Colby had been my celebrity crush since I was a young teenager. I usually had no issue talking to celebrities, but Colby was different. It wasn't that he made me feel uncomfortable, just that I was almost starstruck that he had intentionally left his phone in my car in the hopes that I'd come find him.

            "Sweet. I'll call an Uber—and make sure to check the license plate this time. Let's go," he said, getting off of the couch and walking toward the door. I looked at his outfit, which was, of course, perfect. He was wearing a black button-up shirt with the top three buttons undone, his chest decorated with chain necklaces like mine. He was wearing black skinny jeans with a silver chain on them and black Vans. He tapped on his phone for a second while I got up and walked over.

            "Sick. There's one two minutes away. Come on," he said, grabbing my hand again.

            "Where do I put my shirt?" I asked.

            "I don't care. Put it on my counter or the couch or something," he said. That meant I was coming back.

            "Okay," I said. I took my hand out of his and turned toward the couch to take my shirt off, which felt weird to do in front of him. I draped my shirt over the back of the couch and turned back around toward Colby. He was looking at his phone but looked up when he heard my heels clicking back toward him. I saw and felt his eyes travel up and down my body more than once.

            "Okay, you were right. Very good clubbing outfit. The first one was hot, but that one is sexy. Let's go," he said, stepping out of the way and holding his arm out to let me leave first. I started walking toward the elevator when I heard Colby say something.

            "No way," he said.

            "What?" I asked, turning around to face him.

            "Your tattoo," he said. I felt my face heat up immediately.

            "Oh my god! I forgot about that! My clothes usually cover it!" I exclaimed. "Sorry, that's kind of weird," I said.

            "No, it's not. It's amazing," he said, stepping toward my back and tracing the XPLR logo I had tattooed in between my shoulder blades. His fingertips were warm and soft, and he stood there tracing the tattoo for a second until his phone chimed.

            "He's here! Let's go," Colby said, dropping his hands and pulling me toward the stairs, which were undoubtedly faster than the elevator. We ran out to the car, but before I hopped in, I stopped.

            "I need to get my wallet and my ID out of my car," I said.

            "No, you don't. Come on," he said. I wondered why on Earth I wouldn't need either of those things, but got into the Uber with him anyway.

            "You Colby?" the driver asked.

            "Yes, sir," said Colby. The driver shifted the car into drive but stopped for a second when he looked up in his mirror.

            "And who are you?" he asked, clearly flirting with me.

            "I'm Amelia," I said.

            "That's a pretty name," he said. "I'm Justin," he continued, pulling out of the parking lot.

            "Yes, it is a pretty name. For a pretty girl. I love you, baby," Colby said, reaching his hand over and setting it on my thigh. It took everything within me to not either freak out or scream at what Colby had just said and done. The driver grunted and drove us to a club, not saying a word for the rest of the 15-minute drive.