Текст книги "Reckless"

Автор книги: Devon Hartford

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

I rolled my eyes at him. I would be happy to tear this guy up, but there was no way I was doing it on campus, in front of Samantha and Romeo. If Hunter wanted to sign a waiver and go into the ring, I’d be all over it. But I could tell he was psyching himself up, trying to convince himself that I was afraid, and now was his opportunity to get me out of his way and get to Samantha.

Really?

Hunter took another step forward.

“Samantha, Romeo,” I said, “Please back up. Hunter is not going to be happy until he gets his way.”

“What?” Samantha gasped. “No, don’t, Christos.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured. “This will be quick.” I pulled off my hoodie and tossed it to Samantha. Maybe if Hunter saw me pumped up, fresh from the gym, saw all my ink on my arms, he might finally back down.

“Quick for you,” Hunter snarled at me.

Nope, he was an idiot. I rested my hands on my hips casually. “Please, dude,” I laughed, “do something already.”

Hunter’s hands curled into fists. He wasn’t sure what to do.

“Now or never,” I said.

Hunter took a step forward, but he was still a mile away from being a threat.

“Okay, man, I’m tired of waiting. I’ve got shit to do.” I turned to Samantha, knowing what was coming.

Hunter charged my back.

I sank and pivoted on the ball of one foot while sliding my other leg out with my toes curled up to hook around his ankle.

I tripped him.

Hunter spilled into the dirt on the side of the trail, kicking up dust and fallen Eucalyptus leaves.

Romeo and Samantha laughed.

“Chill, you guys,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Hunter sat up, his face covered with dirt.

I hoped he’d skinned his knees like the child he was.

With my arm around Samantha and Romeo at our side, the three of us walked down the pathway together.

“You guys hungry?” I asked, taking my hoodie from Samantha and sliding my arms through the sleeves.

“Hungry for you!” Samantha said when we were out of Hunter’s earshot. “Rawr!”

I chuckled.

“Me too!” Romeo said. “Double rawr!”

“We need to find you a man, Romeo,” I said.

Romeo smiled bashfully at me. “How about you, C-Man?”

“Dude, you would totally break my shit in half,” I smiled confidently. “I meant a man who could actually handle you.” I winked at Romeo and slapped him good-naturedly on the back.

Romeo laughed. “You hear that, Sam? Christos has finally confirmed what I’ve been telling you all along. I’m too much of a man for even the manliest men!” Romeo pumped his fist and jumped, bicycling his feet in the air.

Samantha chuckled at him.

“What do you guys want to eat?” I asked. “I’m buying.”

“You!” Samantha and Romeo chorused before looking at each other and laughing.

We walked to the Student Center together.

Chapter 21

SAMANTHA

The next day at school was a long one. I had classes all day and a shift at the art museum afterward.

When I got off work, I was exhausted and starving. At least with my two jobs, I felt like I had enough money to eat right. No more protein bars for lunch and Mac & Cheese or Ramen for dinner.

On the way home from SDU, I treated myself to take-out in the form of a Carne Asada burrito with extra guacamole from Roberto’s.

Of all the various “-berto’s” taquerias in San Diego: Royberto’s, Rolberto’s, Rigoberto’s, Alberto’s, Tio-Alberto’s, Filiburto’s, Gualberto’s, Nolberto’s, and all the rest, Roberto’s was by far the best.

Even though it seemed like most everything else in my life was dragging me down, at least I didn’t have to go hungry.

When I got to my apartment I dropped my bags by the door, grabbed a plate for my burrito, and sat down at my kitchen table. I pulled my burrito out of its paper sack and unwrapped it. My mouth was watering in anticipation. I’d been looking forward to this all afternoon.

As I lifted the savory burrito to my mouth, my phone bleeped. I set my burrito down and got up to pull my phone out of my purse.

My parents. Great. I suddenly had indigestion.

I answered on speaker phone. “Hello?” I sat back down at the kitchen table and took a huge bite of burrito. I was too hungry to wait any longer, even if it was my parents.

“Hello, Sam? It’s your father.”

Duh. Who else could he be? “Hey, Dad,” I mumbled around food. Mmmm, Carne Asada.

“Do we have a bad connection? It’s hard to understand you.”

“I’m eating.”

“What?!”

“I’m eating!!”

“Oh. Well, your mother and I wanted to check in on how things are going. Hold on, let me get her on the other line.”

I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t wait.

“Hello, Sam,” Mom said.

“Hey,” I said.

“She sounds garbled,” Mom said. “Is there a bad connection, Bill?”

I rolled my eyes again.

“She’s eating, I think,” my dad said.

“Don’t you know it’s impolite to talk with your mouth full?”

I chewed, rather than answer.

“Sam?” she asked.

“I’m chewing, Mom!” I mumbled over my extra-helping of exasperation.

“Mind your manners, young lady,” my mom barked.

“Can’t you wait to eat until after the call?” dad asked.

“I’m starving,” I argued.

“Your tone, Samantha,” Mom warned icily. She only used my full name when she was pissed. Good.

My dad cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. Good luck. “So, uh, Sam? Have you found a job?”

“Two.”

“Two?” he asked, confused. “Two what?”

“Two jobs!” I hollered. Man, they were killing me. Somebody get them some Q-tips.

“Samantha!” my mom growled.

I took another huge bite and chewed, pretending I was grinding my mom’s nastiness between my teeth.

“I can only assume that you’ve taken two because neither one pays sufficiently to cover your expenses?” my dad asked.

Damn, he was right.

“What, may I ask, are your two jobs?” Mom said sarcastically.

“I work at the art museum on campus and a convenience store.”

Mom chuckled. “A convenience store?”

O. M. G. She was as rude as Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse tonight. “So? It pays.”

“How much?” Dad asked.

“Do we have to go into this?” I asked, swallowing and wiping guacamole from my lips with a napkin.

“Your mother and I just want to make sure your jobs pay sufficiently to cover your living expenses,” Dad said.

“The museum pays ten an hour, and the convenience store pays eight-fifty. I have enough hours at both jobs to cover all my expenses. After taxes. Happy now?” I said snidely.

“Well that’s good to hear,” my dad said.

Nothing from my mom on the subject.

That was it? Geez, a congratulations would’ve been nice.

“Have you changed your major back to Accounting?” Dad asked. He was all business tonight.

“No,” I said.

“Oh?” my dad said thoughtfully.

That was strange. I’d expected my dad to be on the warpath when I told him.

I smelled a trap.

“You must be pretty busy with two jobs and classes,” Dad said.

“I guess.” I still smelled that trap.

“Sam,” my dad said with a distinct smile in his voice, “all you have to do is change your major back, and your mother and I will be glad to cover all your expenses once again.”

Spring! There went his trap.

“Think how nice it will be not to have to work two jobs,” he continued. “You can focus on your classes and have time left over to relax with your friends.”

Yeah, my dad sounded like the devil. He had that nice guy voice the devil always used when he was telling you how great everything would be after you signed away your soul in blood.

“I’m not changing my major back,” I said calmly.

There was a long, long pause from my parents. I enjoyed the silence, but I knew it wouldn’t last.

“Well,” Mom blurted with a cackle, “I hope you like working at a convenience store. I’m sure their retirement benefits are stellar.”

“I’m not going to work there for the rest of my life, Mom.”

“What,” she scoffed, “are you going to be an artist?”

“Now, Linda,” my dad said, trying to calm her. “Sam is working. Two jobs, no less. We should cut her some slack.”

That sort of surprised me. He was usually on Mom’s side.

“No, Bill. Your daughter is making terrible choices. And you know what? I bet it’s that Christos character.”

“I don’t think—” my dad said.

My mom interrupted him. “It is him, isn’t it, Sam?”

I was shocked into silence.

“I’m right,” Mom said. “I knew it. He’s filling your head with all these crazy ideas about being an artist, isn’t he, Samantha?”

“No!” I protested. I pushed back my chair from my dining room table and began pacing the living room. I felt like I was suddenly on dangerous ground, and wanted to move, like I needed to run away from my parents. What else was new? Sigh.

My mom’s tone suddenly went friendly, which scared me. “Samantha, are you telling me that you’re no longer seeing Christos? Or have you found some other boy to waste your time on?”

“No! I mean, yes, I’m still seeing Christos!”

My mom chuckled throatily. “That’s what I thought. Bill, your daughter is spending so much time with this boy Christos, she’s lost her head. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later.”

There was something so disgusting about the way my mom had said it, like she was calling me a dirty harlot, just because I was in love. There was nothing dirty about my relationship with Christos. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom,” I growled.

“I don’t?” she chuckled.

“Calm down, both of you,” my dad said in an even tone. “Whether or not Sam is dating anyone is not what’s at issue. Sam has shown initiative, Linda. She has secured two jobs and is paying her bills. As long as she keeps her grades up, her personal life is irrelevant.”

Geez, did my dad think I was a robot? A computer to be programmed and set about a specific task? The way he’d called my personal life “irrelevant” spoke volumes. Groan. At least he was getting my mom off my back.

“Further,” Dad continued, “there’s no sense in her withdrawing from her current classes this late in the term, only to have to repeat them later. Sam, can you apply both your Oil Painting and Figurative Sculpting credits toward your General Education requirements?”

“Yeah,” I muttered.

“Excellent. I believe that, when combined with Figurative Drawing from last quarter, you will have completed your Humanities series, correct?” Dad was on the ball, as always.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Good,” my dad continued, “do you know if Managerial Accounting will be available next term? Or is it only offered once per academic year?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned. I didn’t care either.

“Can you check?” he asked.

“I guess,” I moaned. All I wanted to do was get my parents off my back for the evening. I’d had enough of them.

“If all goes as planned,” my dad said in a positive tone, “you can register for the appropriate classes for Spring Quarter and resume your Accounting curriculum. Then you will be back on track to complete your major in four years.”

That was my parents. Making plans for me without asking how I felt about them. I was so done with this conversation.

“Do you find that acceptable, Linda?” my dad asked.

My mom sighed on the other end of the phone. “As long as she follows through, I’m fine with it,” she said to my dad. “But if we find out you have not changed your major back to Accounting, Samantha, your father and I will be having a very long discussion about whether or not we should continue paying for your education at SDU at all.”

She let that sink in.

“Fine,” I said. Were we done yet?

“And if I find out your grades are slipping because you’re spending too much time with that Christos,” Mom hissed, “rest assured, young lady, there will be hell to pay.”

“Your mother is right, Sam,” my dad said. “We’re not funding your stay at SDU so you can meet young men. You’re there to procure a degree. Period. You will have plenty of time for men when you are older.”

“Fine,” I spat. “Can I go so I can finish my dinner now?” I sounded whiny. I didn’t care.

“Yes,” my dad said curtly.

“Bye,” I sing-songed sarcastically.

“Good night,” my dad said.

“Remember what I said, Samantha Anna Smith,” my mom hissed. “Hell to pay.”

I thought to myself, Wow, I love you too, Mom.

When they didn’t say anything else, I rolled my eyes and pressed END on my phone and dropped it on my coffee table.

What was it with my parents both talking like they were minions of Satan? Or Satan himself? Which led me to the obvious question, did Satan have a wife? And was she the one in charge of the whole operation?

I didn’t know, but if Satan’s wife was anything like my mom, I was convinced she ran the show.

Whatever.

I glanced at my scrumptious Roberto’s Carne Asada burrito on the kitchen table.

My appetite was gone.

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

SAMANTHA

The next afternoon, I was back behind the counter for another brain-draining shift at Grab-n-Dash. I did my best to keep a smile on my face.

Sadly, as usual, this job and my neon-urine hot-dog-smelling uniform reminded me of all the things going wrong in my life. Yes, many things were going right, like in the Christos department, but a lot of it was Groansville.

I was pretty sure my History and Sociology grades were slipping further, and I was tired all the time. How was I going to get my grades up if I was too tired to concentrate?

Worse, my parents had become complete strangers. I mean, like, worse than they’d ever been in the past. Maybe because I’d always followed their rules. Now that I was making choices for myself, it had become clear they didn’t understand me at all. They didn’t realize that Accounting had always been the wrong place for me. Why couldn’t they see that?

When it came to my love for Christos, I was certain my mom and dad couldn’t even begin to understand. They didn’t have what Christos and I had. To me, they seemed like loveless roommates.

But Christos and I were in love.

Deeply in love.

Couldn’t my parents at least respect that, even if they didn’t understand it?

I wanted to live my life my way, not theirs.

Thinking about it any further was going to make me either throw up or break down in tears. Sadly, neither would set the right mood when a customer came in and I needed to say, “Welcome to Grab-n-Dash. How can I brighten your day?”

I tried to block everything out and focus on work.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the afternoon rush kicked in, distracting me from my gloomy mood. Customers rolled through the doors every thirty seconds. I generally had a line of people three-deep waiting to pay.

I was so busy cashing out the customers, I was surprised when I looked up into the eyes of Tiffany Shithouse-Mousetrap. For once, she smiled.

“You’ve finally found your calling, haven’t you?” she gloated while looking me over. “Nice baseball cap and matching shirt. The yellow goes with your teeth.” She held a 32 ounce cup of soda in her hand.

“Welcome to Grab-n-Dash. How can I brighten your day?” I winced as I said it.

Tiffany looked at me with rampant superiority. I saw the wheels behind her eyes turning. “You want to brighten my day? How about this?” She peeled the lid off her 32 ounce cup of cola.

“No, don’t—!” I held up my hand at the last second.

She jerked the cup right at me and 32 ounces of cola with minimal ice splashed onto my shirt and rained all over my shoes and the tiled floor.

“My day is definitely brighter now,” Tiffany smiled and walked out, dropping her cup on the floor. The bitch didn’t even pay.

I needed a mop. My shirt was sopping wet.

The other customers in line gave me conciliatory looks. I was ready to burst into tears, but I dutifully rang up each person in line. At some point, I realized tears were running down my face against my will, but I rang everyone up anyway.

When there was a lull in the customers, I stepped out from behind the cash counter and prepared to go into the back to find a mop or crawl into a corner and bawl my eyes out properly.

“Samantha?”

I hadn’t even heard the door bing-bong.

“Christos? What are you doing here?”

“I decided to surprise you as soon as Isabella left for the day.” He held a small but classy pink sunflower bouquet in his hands. I’d never seen anything like it. It was perfect.

More tears. But this time, it was the good kind.

He set them on the counter in front of me. When he saw my dirty shirt, he said, “What happened, agápi mou? You look like you’ve been through the ringer.”

“Would you believe Tiffany threw her soda in my face?” I sniffed, trying not to cry again.

“What?!” he asked in total disbelief.

“Yeah, like twenty minutes ago,” I wiped my runny nose on the back of my hand. “I need a tissue.”

He grabbed a napkin from beside the hot dog stand and handed it to me over the counter.

It smelled like hot dogs. I was used to it. “Thank you, Christos.”

He leaned over the counter. “This is ridiculous, Samantha. We’re barely seeing each other anymore. I’m dying without you. Painting all these nude women every day has gone from hollow to desperately lonely. It’s so much better when you’re there to keep me company. It’s like I’m painting for us, not for my rabid customers. When you’re there, I don’t care what I’m doing. I have a blast.”

“I feel the same way,” I said.

“Do you want me to eject the painting career, and get a job with you here at the Grab-n-Dash?” he joked, all smiles. “I totally would, if it would make you happy.”

“No, I’d never ask you to work here. The people who come in here are animals.” I smiled when I pictured Eminickle and 2 Small Crew. Well, not all of my customers. Just the Tiffanies.

“You sure? I think I’d look hot in a…what color is that again? Your shirt?”

“I don’t know, but I think it’s radioactive, which means, if somehow I have cancer, my shirt is curing me. If it doesn’t kill me first.”

“Agápi mou,” he snickered, “this is the wrong place for you.” He reached over the counter again and cupped my cheek. Frowning, he realized how awkward and unromantic it was with the counter between us. “Wait, hold on a second. I need to do this right.” He backed up from the counter and looked around, examining the rack of candy behind him until he found what he was looking for. He grabbed two packages and moved the bouquet he’d brought for me to the side, then vaulted over the counter like an Olympic athlete, and dropped to one knee.

He peeled open the wrapper on one of those giant candy rings. It was red.

“Cherry!” I smiled. “My favorite.”

He slid the candy ring on my finger and looked up at me earnestly.

The waterworks in my eyes started up all over again. OMG, what the hell was he going to say?

“Samantha Smith, will you…”

OMG, OMG, OMG!!!!

“…move in with me?”

“Yes!”

He stood up and I jumped into his arms.

Home at last. My mom had no idea what existed between me and Christos. How could she? My dad was nothing like Christos. Maybe that’s why their marriage was the way it was. Well, my mom wasn’t a prize in the romance department either. She preferred tax day over Valentine’s Day, I was pretty sure. I suddenly felt a pinch of compassion for my parents. Maybe neither of them had any idea what true love could be.

Christos hugged me tightly and smooched me on the lips. I felt something in his hand pressing into my back. “What’s that?” I asked.

He held up a box of candy cigarettes. “For later, after we have celebratory sex in your new home.”

“You are the biggest dork I’ve ever loved,” I smiled through tears.

“The only dork you’ve ever loved, agápi mou…”

We kissed passionately for a long time, I think until my shift was over. I didn’t care. I loved my dork and his dork.

SAMANTHA

That night after work, Christos and I had dinner at the Manos house with Spiridon. We all sat in the kitchen while Spiridon cooked. He refused to let me do anything.

Spiridon made lamb kebabs. On the side was Tzatziki, which Spiridon explained was Greek yogurt with cucumbers and garlic, dolmades, which I had learned to love, and Kolokithopita, which were fried zucchini fritters.

I shoveled up some Tzatziki off my plate with a triangle of pita bread and took a bite. So yummy.

“We’re celebrating your moving into our house, Samoula,” Spiridon said from where he stood at the stove.

I wrinkled my nose. “What’s a Samoula?” I asked.

Christos chuckled. “It’s a Greek nickname for Samantha, right Pappoús?”

Spiridon turned around and smiled at me. “Yes. Now that you’re moving in with us, Samoula, you’re going to have to learn not only to eat Greek, but to speak Greek, think Greek, and live Greek. You did warn her about us, right Christos?” Spiridon winked at his grandson.

“Are you kidding, Pappoús?” Christos laughed. “If I’d told her what she was getting herself into, she would’ve run screaming back to Washington D.C.!”

“I would not,” I chuckled. I hadn’t even moved in yet, and already I felt completely at home in the Manos’ house, like I’d live here for years.

For the first time in my life, I felt a hint of what a home could be. Home was a grounded place. A place I’d dreamt of since I was a little girl, but never known firsthand. Home was a comforting, supportive environment.

I thought about my little corner of the art studio at the back of Spiridon’s house.

Home was also a nurturing environment. A place to help me grow, to allow me to become a woman. A place where I could gently set aside the girl within me and embrace the woman I was meant to be.

Sure, I recognized that my parents had done much to raise me. They had provided, they had directed. They had controlled. They had tried to make me a robot. A drone I never wanted to be.

I wanted to jump into life and discover things.

Christos had helped me do exactly that. It was as if he swam in a sparkling, magical ocean, and was constantly asking me to dive in with him and explore a vast, unknown world of exciting, enchanting possibility.

And now I had.

I was jumping in, all the way.

As the three of us ate together and filled our bellies with nourishing food while laughter filled our hearts, I felt like I was finally in the right place.

Finally home.

Christos had awoken me from a nightmare that had haunted me for my entire life.

Now I was alive.

I was awake, and I was never going back to sleep.

I was ready to live.

With Christos by my side.

After wiping his face with a napkin, Christos asked, “Do you still have those candy cigarettes?”

“I do,” I smiled. “They’re in my purse.”

“Good, because you’re going to need them.”

“When?” I asked coquettishly.

“Right after dinner,” Christos grinned. “Well, more like three hours after we finish dinner.”

“I have to wait that long?” I would never have had this conversation in front of my parents. I didn’t even think twice about how raunchy I must have sounded to Spiridon, who was sitting across the table from me.

“For the cigarettes, yes,” Christos clarified, “but no, we’re starting as soon as I clear the table.” He smiled his cockiest grin.

“Gosh, would you look at the time?” Spiridon said, standing up from the table. “I totally forgot I was meeting an old friend for drinks tonight.”

“Oh?” Christos asked. “Who?”

“Walt Childress,” Spiridon said.

“You mean Professor Childress?” I asked.

“One and the same,” Spiridon said.

“Really,” Christos smiled. “When was the last time you two hung out?”

“It’s been ages,” Spiridon mused.

I grinned, “Then I bet you two will have plenty of fun tonight.”

Spiridon chuckled, “If we don’t punch each other out the second we say hello, I’m sure we will.”

“You guys won’t fight,” Christos smiled warmly.

“Probably not,” Spiridon said. “We’re both too old to bother. I’ll probably be gone for awhile. Which means you two can have the house to yourselves.” He left the room while Christos and I cleaned up.

When Spiridon came downstairs, all dressed to go out, he said “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, you two.” He slid the sleeve of his jacket back over his watch and glanced at the time. “I’ll be gone, oh, let’s say, four hours? That should be long enough, no?” He winked at both of us.

I burst out laughing. He totally knew we were going to have sex. And I didn’t care! I couldn’t believe it. My parents would’ve slapped a chastity belt around me if they’d been here.

Christos chuckled and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Bye, Pappoús. Say hi to Walt for me.”

“Me too,” I said.

“Will do,” Spiridon said. “Have fun,” he waved, then walked out the front door.

Christos turned to face me, encircling me with his arms. He gazed down at me with his lustrous blue eyes, those glowing jewels that had captured my heart the moment I’d seen them in September.

“I love you, Christos.”

“I love you, agápi mou.”

My life was perfect. It couldn’t get any better

He leaned down to kiss me.

I was wrong. It could get better. Much better.

Our lips met and our tongues slid together.

We kissed for awhile in the kitchen.

“You know what I love about eating garlic?” Christos asked.

“What’s that?” I frowned, expecting the worst.

“When we both have it, neither of us seems to care,” he chuckled.

“I was thinking the same thing,” I giggled, and pushed away from him.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his lashes lowering seductively.

“Catch me if you can!” I turned and ran out of the kitchen, through the living room, and upstairs to his bedroom.

I was giggling the entire way. He was right behind me, pounding down the upstairs hallway.

I dove onto the bed and tumbled into the sheets.

He stood in the doorway, hunched over. “I’m going to eat you up, little girl,” he growled.

“Please do,” I said confidently.

He vaulted across the room, flying through the air.

“Christos!” I shrieked, scooting back from the edge of the bed.

He slammed onto the mattress, laughing and bouncing like a kid. “I’m ravenous, agápi mou. I haven’t had a thing to eat all day.”

“You just had dinner!”

“That was an appetizer. You’re the main course.”

He crawled over the bed and started tickling me.

“Christos! Stop!”

“Why?” he smiled. “I love getting you worked up.”

I pulled a blanket up to my chin. “I already am.”

“Then I’m going to have to rip your clothes off,” he leered.

“Please do.”

He slowly pulled the covers down my chest. My heart raced. My thighs quivered. I was completely dressed, but I knew my womanhood was wet and ready.

He pulled my shoes off, one by one. Then lifted my shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor. Bra next. This was so easy. Why had I ever been shy?

My full breasts spilled out, my nipples instantly hard in the cool room. Christos lunged at one breast with his mouth and sucked on my nipple while squeezing and kneading both breasts passionately with each hand.

I leaned back on the pillows as he consumed me.

“I need more,” he growled.

“Take it. Take me. Take everything. You have all of me, Christos.”

He grinned his cocky grin. “And you have all of me, agápi mou.” He unzipped my jeans and pulled them off. He smirked. “When are we going to get you some sexy underwear? You’re all about the cotton panties. I’m picturing thongs and G-strings to go with your perfect body,” he grinned.

“Maybe for Valentine’s Day?”

His eyes flashed. He took a deep breath, and sat back on his heels.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, concerned.

“No,” he smiled. “Everything’s fine. I just need to take my boots off.” He turned and sat on the edge of the bed, and slipped them slowly off. “Hold on, I need to use the bathroom.”

“Are you okay?” I asked, now decisively worried.

“No, I just need to take a leak. I’ve had to go for an hour.”

“Why didn’t you say something, silly?” I swatted his arm.

“I’m saying something now,” he flashed his dimpled grin, stood up, and went into the bathroom.

CHRISTOS

As soon as I closed my bathroom door, I turned on the water faucet. I leaned both hands on the sink, hanging my head. Fuck me.

My trial was on Valentine’s Day.

Fuck.

She didn’t know.

I still hadn’t told her.

How could I?

All of the good feelings spinning through my heart, through Samantha’s heart, flowing like love was supposed to flow: strong, powerful, eternal, all of it was going to come to a shrieking halt in a matter of days.

I didn’t want to ruin the mood. Not tonight.

This would be our Valentine’s Day celebration.

For me, anyway. I knew she’d be disappointed on the 14th. What girl didn’t want Valentine’s Day to be magical?

But how the fuck were you supposed to do that when you spent the entire day in a courtroom, watching your life hang in the balance?

I tried to push my misery out of my head.

Focus on the present moment.

Right now.

With Samantha.

“Are you okay in there, Christos?” Samantha asked through the door.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll be out in a second.” I flushed the empty toilet bowl for effect.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I pictured Samantha’s amazing eyes. The naked, honest love I saw in them every time she looked at me. The love I wanted to protect from all the harm in the world.

My heart swelled as I thought about our love.

My grin returned. Cocky as ever.

Were my eyes watering?

Agápi mou…you have no idea how much I love you…

I hoped Samantha wouldn’t notice, it might ruin the mood. She was always looking at my eyes, so I’d have to distract her from them.

SAMANTHA

Christos strolled out of the bathroom, completely naked, a cocky smirk on his face and his jumblies hanging out.

Wow! I clapped my hands to my cheeks. “Oh my god! I hadn’t been expecting Mr. Naked! Where did Christos go?”

“You like?” he grinned.

“Of course I like! I love!”

He chuckled while walking over to the bed and climbed on top of the covers.

I ripped my panties off. “Don’t need those anymore!”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s thongs from here on out!” I said proudly.

“Don’t rush into things,” Christos chuckled.

“Hey, if I’m going to be as sexy as you are, I need the proper undergarments.”

“I can live with that,” he smiled.

“I have a surprise for you,” I said, holding my arms out to him.

He leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing. “What’s that?” he asked cautiously.

Why was he so nervous? It wasn’t like him. Oh well, I had the cure for that. “I started taking the pill two weeks ago.” Christos had also told me a month ago that he had himself regularly tested for STDs, and was totally clean. We were now free to enjoy each other’s bodies uninhibited. There was nothing left to interfere with the mingling of our bodies in physical love. “We don’t need to use a condom!”

His eyes goggled. “What?”

“Did I say something wrong?” Now I was totally freaking out. Something felt really off, but I had no idea what it was.

“No, you said everything right,” he smiled.

“I did?” I was so confused.

“Look,” he said, pointing at his crotch.

I only realized at that moment that this was the first time I’d been naked with Christos and he hadn’t had an erection from the get-go. He’d been flaccid when he’d walked out of the bathroom a moment ago. Before I had a chance to wonder why, his cock grew to full, straining attention in seven seconds.