Saving Death

Chapter 16

I was attempting to process everything. As I pictured Sam and the look in his eyes last night, a thousand feelings stirred inside me. The most dominant was disappointment; disappointment that I probably wouldn't see him for weeks on end now. I'd wondered whether or not I actually wanted to see him, but I still couldn't forget the way he'd kissed me. There had been something so hesitant, almost shy, about the way he'd pulled me close and brushed his lips against mine. It was almost as if he'd expected me to run at any moment.  

Picking up my pen, I began to write the title of my essay, but a rough cough sounded behind me and I jumped. I whipped around, and Sam was standing directly behind me, looking at me wearily. An unexpected terror ignited my insides as I stared into the same face that had growled my name into the night, but his eyes were drained and apologetic, and his posture showed his fatigue.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

I swallowed nervously. His eyes were black, but not unnaturally black and he looked tired. 

"You're working hard, I see," he tried. I stared back at my blank page, embarrassed. "Can I sit?" he said cautiously, pointing to the chair on my other side. I nodded and watched as he slumped next to me. He usually held an air of power, but today, it struck me how grey and ill he looked. I remembered I'd promised myself I wouldn't ask any questions, even though a million of them immediately fluttered to the forefront of my mind. Forcing myself to look away, I began doodling absently in the margin of my paper.

"Seline told me what I did," came Sam's gruff voice.

I glanced back at him briefly before turning back to my doodles. I didn't know what he wanted me to say, but then his warm hand crept up my arm and fixed on my wrist. I turned to him, wide eyed.

"Do I scare you?" he spoke, darkness clouding his vision. I became aware of my breath hitching, and I was torn between pulling my arm away and keeping it in Sam's grip. I shook my head imperceptibly, looking down at my trapped wrist.

"Sorry. You probably want me to get the hell away from you," he said, his hand snaking away from me.

"No," I offered quietly with a small shake of my head. I chewed on my bottom lip awkwardly.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're right—maybe I don't know you as well as I think I do." I knew we were both thinking of the night we'd met and how far we'd come, but that just presented more questions, so I turned away and gazed out the window, afraid if I opened my mouth to talk, questions would come tumbling out. I could sense Sam staring at me, waiting for me to say something. He gave in and spoke first.

"You don't want to talk about it?" he questioned.

I faced him. "I'm not asking questions today," I said, watching the look of apprehension on Sam's face turn slowly to amusement. 

"Are you saying that...I act like a complete raving lunatic and you don't have questions?" he asked incredulously. I realised how ridiculous it all sounded and I looked sidelong at him and gave him a wry smile.

"It's not that I don't have questions," I muttered, checking that we were still alone. "It's just that I've decided to let you off for today. I'm turning over a new leaf; going with the flow."

He made a sound halfway between a laugh and a grunt of relief before slipping further into his chair and plucking a book off a nearby bookcase. He flicked through the pages, pausing to read chapter titles. "Although, I hope you realise that this doesn't change the fact that I have a question for you," he said.

I braced myself.

"What were you doing at my house so late last night?" He eyed me darkly, making me blush and avoid his eyes.