Chapter Thirteen.
Why am I still kissing him? I should've stopped him thirty minutes ago, but now I'm crushed underneath him, thinking about Sam and what it's like to kiss him. I'm a terrible person. I can't go get waffles with him after making out with Josh. Shit. All of my effort that I put into mending my issues was pointless because I had to kiss Josh. Actually, kissing him definitely made things a million times clearer, the fact that I'm still kissing him is what's ruining my progress. Damn.
Josh's touch used to make me tingle and now it's like my skin is numb to it. To him. I feel like I'm making out with Brody, or some other jerk.
I finally bring my hands up to Josh's chest and push him back. "I hope you know this isn't going anywhere."
Josh sits up, putting more space between us. I didn't know how much he was suffocating me until he stopped. "I figured," he says.
It gets awkwardly quiet between us. The silence after the make out session is always uncomfortable, especially since he's still just chilling in his boxer briefs. Should I say something? Should I leave? In all honesty, I really want to get out of here and go see Sam.
"Brittany," Josh says, interrupting my thoughts. "Part of my recovery is to be honest," he pauses, like he's thinking hard about what he wants to say, or how he wants to say it. "When we started talking again, I never expected to want to be with you again, but I do. I'm not saying we should. I know it's a horrible idea... I'm not going to be the guy I should be, or even want to be. Being sober should make me better, but it doesn't, it only makes me more conscious of my mistakes. It still doesn't stop me from making them."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I don't want to lead you on or anything," Josh confesses. "I've kind of come to the realization that I'm not the boyfriend type. I want you to know that if you have any kind of feelings for me anymore, you really shouldn't. If we ever tried to... well I'd treat you like shit, I'd cheat on you, I'd forget your birthday, I'd definitely lie, I'd forget to call, I'd say one thing and do another... I wish I could be the nice guy. Especially for you. After everything I put you through because of my own idiotic issues, you definitely deserve it, but I'm just not that guy. Who knows, maybe one day I will be, but until then...I'm like this."
"Thanks for your honesty."
"But hey, if you ever want to get high and hook up, I'm definitely that guy," he chuckles.
"The mere thought of that actually makes me sick, but thank you," I laugh.
He holds out his hand. "Friends?"
"Acquaintances," I correct, shaking his hand. Friends is too much.
Josh rolls his eyes, looking at his phone. "It's almost eleven; you should probably take that guy up on his waffle date if it isn't too late. It's Ass-Grabber, isn't it?"
I nod. "He's actually really sweet, that Ass-Grabber."
"Must be."
Getting off Josh's bed, I adjust my shirt and run my fingers through my hair. "I'll uh, see you around...?" I trail off, not knowing what else to say.
"Not if you can help it, I'm sure," he jokes as I start walking towards the door. "Um, Brittany," he stops me, making me look back at him. "Is there any way I could talk you into using the window? It's just that when I moved in, Jenna's mom told me that I wasn't allowed to have girls in my room. Apparently I'm already a bad influence on Jordan."
Even though we didn't have sex, Josh still makes me feel like a Window Whore. Because of recently, I want to put up a fight, but this feels like the last time I'll be climbing out of a window for a guy. It started with Josh, it might as well end with Josh.
By the time I rush home and rinse the Josh off of me, it's already eleven thirty. I decide to call Sam to apologize for being such a flake. I feel horrible for putting Josh first, but it was only temporary, just to guarantee that he'll never be in that slot again.
"Hello?" Sam answers.
"Hey," I smile, feeling ten times more relaxed at the sound of his voice.
"Hey back," he replies.
"Is it too late for waffles?"
"Never, that's crazy talk," Sam chuckles. "I'll pick you up in ten, okay?"
"Are you sure it's not too late? I mean, your parents-"
"My dad's still downstairs watching the sports channel, he'll be cool with it."
"Alright, I'll see you when you get here," I say and we both get off the phone. I quickly put on a pair of shredded skinny jeans and one of my dad's old Pink Floyd T-shirts. I walk back into my bathroom and take out my contacts so I won't forget to when I get back home. I have a bad habit of sleeping in them and waking up and wanting to claw my eyes out because they're so dry. I put on my geeky glasses and grab my toothbrush to brush my teeth one more time before Sam gets here.
"You going somewhere?" Brian asks, entering the bathroom from his room.
I jump. "Thanks for scaring the shit out of me. And yes, I'm going somewhere."
"Where?"
"It's none of your business."
"Seeing Brody again?"
"No, actually, I'm not."
"Josh?" Brian says, making this a game of Guess Who. "I heard he's back in town."
"No, I'm just going out for waffles with a friend."
"Why are you keeping it a secret?"
"Because I don't exactly feel like being told how much of a slut I am," I snap.
It gets quiet before he says, "You're seeing Sam, aren't you? After I told you to back off? You already got him to break up with his girlfriend, what else-"
"We're just two people going to get waffles together, what is the big fucking deal?" I screech.
"I give you a week."
I throw my toothbrush at him and storm out of my bathroom. I put on a pair of gray Vans and walk out of my room. If I could have a caring brother, like the kind that girls talk about in movies, that would be great. Right now, a violent overprotective one even sounds better than the douchey one I have now.
Once I'm outside I sit on the steps by the door and pull out my cell phone to kill some time while I'm waiting for Sam. I open up Facebook to find that I have six notifications. One is a friend request from Josh Preston and the other five are from Brody because he liked five of my pictures. Josh and I used to be friends on Facebook, but I deleted him when I found out he was a cheating asshole.
After accepting Josh's friend request, I scroll through my newsfeed, reading people's statuses, internally judging the numerous girls who complain about their boyfriend on a social networking site rather than dealing with it in person. Another notification pops up telling me that Josh Preston has just posted on my wall.
I would've sent you an acquaintance-request, but that wasn't an option.
I roll my eyes and laugh, liking the post. I then take the opportunity to go to his page and creep on him. I first look through his profile pictures. His current one is just of him at a bar, but as I look through them there are pictures of him with different girls. The farther back I go, I notice that one of the brunettes is in a lot of pictures with him, at least fifteen of them. He must've had a relationship with her. Finally I land on a picture that I'm in with him, I realized that I've scrolled back too far. It's a picture of us at homecoming three years ago. It only makes me think of how wasted he got and repeatedly groped me in front of all his friends. The picture is really deceiving because we looked like such a happy couple.
Thankfully, Sam's jeep pulls up in the driveway, making me stand up and put my phone away as I walk to the passenger's side. He shuts off the headlights and gets out. I stare at him confused as he walks around his vehicle. It clicks in my head that he's just being polite and opening my door for me. Well, this is certainly a first. I don't know what to think.
"Why thank you, kind sir," I fake a British accent. Apparently, I become British in unfamiliar situations.
Sam holds out his hand, helping me in. "You're quite welcome, m'lady," he replies Britishly, sounding amused. He shuts the door and walks around his jeep and gets in driver's side.
"Do you always do that?" I question. "Open doors," I specify.
"Does it bother you?" he asks, backing out of my driveway.
I shrug. "I mean, I can open my own doors."
San chuckles, obviously not thinking much into this simple act of kindness as I am. "It's not that you can't open your own doors, I'd rather do it for you," he says. "Judging by your reaction, I'm assuming that not many guys-"
"I once had a guy open a window for me, does that count?" I joke.
Sam shakes his head in disbelief. "I just want you to know that I would never even think of opening a window for you, Brittany," he remarks, playing off my joke.
I giggle. "That's awfully gentlemanly of you."
"I do what I can," he shrugs, smiling.
"Have you ever used the window?"
I notice his cheeks blushing a little. "Uh, no, not exactly."
I'm kind of curious as to how many shades of red his cheeks are capable of turning. "Would you use the window for me?" I inquire.
"For you?" Sam eyes me, thinking. "Maybe."
"I wouldn't subject you to window-whore status, I'm just curious."
"Let's just avoid all windows, shall we?"
I laugh. "Deal, doors only."
"Is the back door okay, or do we keep it strictly front-" he can't even finish his sentence without me taking it completely out of context and laughing. "I don't suppose we could avoid gutters, too?" Sam chuckles.
"You walked right into that," I point out, my laughter die down as he pulls into the parking lot of an old diner. I open my door before he has the chance to walk all the way around his Jeep to do it for me. Sam does, however, open the door to let me walk into the building first. He leads the way to a booth in the corner, facing the window.
I sit down across from him, trying to think of something to say. "Is this where you bring all the girls?"
Sam laughs. "You say that like I've been with so many, and no, this isn't where I bring them."
"So you have been with a lot of girls?"
"What's your definition of being with someone?"
I narrow my gaze at him. "I think you know."
Sam looks away, nervously clearing his throat. "Maybe we should talk about something else."
"That many? I'm not exactly one to judge, Sam," I point out.
"Let's play a game," Sam suggests.
I lean in and rest my arms on the table, interested. "What did you have in mind?"
"Let's see how long either of us can go without bringing up the sex topic."
I frown. "That doesn't sound like a very fun game-"
"Good evening!" a voice chirps, interrupting me. "I'm Paula, What can I get you two lovebirds to drink?"
Sam and I exchange a look at the term lovebirds.
"Water," I finally say.
"Dr. Pepper, please," Sam follows.
"I'll be back with those in just a second," she walks off.
I look at Sam, seeing that he's already looking at me. "What?" I question, feeling insecure.
"You look cute with glasses," he says, reaching across the table to take them off my face. "How come you don't wear them more often?"
I shrug. "I look dorky in them."
Sam puts them on his face. "Says who?"
I start laughing. I wish I could say that they look horrible on him, but they actually look better on him than they do on me. His golden hair is in a controlled mess with pieces sticking up. My black frame glasses actually enhance his boyishly cute looks.
Sam slides my glasses back over me, and I quickly slip them back on my face. He's definitely more fun to drool over in twenty-twenty vision. I notice him glance at his phone, making me think that he's in a hurry.
"Do you have to be somewhere?" I check.
He looks at me, brows furrowed. "Oh," he catches on. "No, I was checking the time. Actually it's tomorrow, or today rather," he explains, getting slightly flustered in his words.
I quickly think of what I told him earlier in Biology. It feels like that was days ago. "I think...I'm all out of thoughts," I inform him.
"Oh really?"
"Yeah," I pause for a second as Paula sets our drinks down and takes our order. When she's gone I begin fidgeting with my drink, slowly rotating the ice cold glass in circles. "I don't know where this is going, or if you even want it to go anywhere, but I just had a couple things that I had to get out of the way," I tell him.
"I definitely want it to go somewhere, otherwise I wouldn't be here. Do you?" Sam questions.
"I want to see it going somewhere; I just don't know what 'going somewhere' entails. Where do we go from here? This point. Not to ruin our little game, but I've never done the...before part. In my mind, sex is the before and after never really happens," I say quietly, realizing how disturbing that sounds. "Obviously in my experience, that's not the way to do it, though," I try to laugh, keeping my focus on the ice cubes floating around in my water.
"I don't want you to feel like that. That's not what I want this to be about. If we're laying everything completely out in the open, I'd like to beat the shit out of whoever put that in your head because in my mind," Sam breaks, reaching across and lifting my chin up to make me look at him, "the before is what makes the after even better."
We haven't even kissed yet and here I am anticipating something that in theory could be disappointing. It's not even all the physical stuff I'm looking forward to. I want all of the heavy conversations-much like this one, the joking and teasing that we do back and forth and the rest of the in between.
As sick and twisted as this may sound, part of me almost wants to believe that everything Sam's saying is all just bullshit to prevent the pain that could potentially happen if I screw this up. Although, the rest of me knows that he means every word he says, which is something that I'll rapidly grow to like.
Sam takes my cold, fidgeting hand and weaves his warm fingers through my Titanically cold digits.
"Look, Sam," I take a deep breath, preparing myself for words that I can hardly assimilate into grammatically correct sentences. "I really like you and it scares the shit out of me because I don't usually like guys, or form any kind of feelings for them because they usually give me reasons not to. And the worst kind of guy is the one who says all the right things, but has all the wrong intentions. I'm generally good at differentiating between the two, but it wasn't always like that," I take another breath, not even knowing if I'm making any sense to him. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that the first guy I fell hard for, turned out to be a total regret. And I'm starting to realize how altered my thoughts are because of him. I have no clue how to be in a relationship because of the ideas that he initiated in me. I don't know where the lines end and begin. And I definitely don't know all the rules," I admit.
"We can start small, decide which lines to draw and which ones to leave uncrossed. I'm not saying we have to be in a full blown relationship because I don't even know what that means. If what I've previously been in were relationships, then I don't want this," Sam pauses, motioning between us, "to be anything like those. I just want to be with you, I like being with you and I kind of get the feeling that you don't entirely hate being with me," he smiles at me. "So let's just be with each other instead of being with other people."
I exhale, relieved of his expectations. "Starting small," I repeat, relaxing. "I might be kind of terrible at this, so if I push you-"
"I'll pull you," he assures me.
"I push, you pull," I mumble, satisfied.
***
xx