by Tom DeLonge
“Dan may think a lot of things,” Sam said. “Doesn’t make them true. He gives me a ride home once in a while. We even go out sometimes.” She looked at Jonas. “That’s all it is.”
“Fair enough,” he said, although an itch started under his skin. “I’m just trying to get a handle on what ‘all’ entails.”
Samantha looked over, lip curled. “What are you asking?”
Jonas shrugged. “I’m just wondering how serious you are with your not-boyfriend.”
“Are you asking if we have sex?” Sam said bluntly.
It was, indeed, what he wanted to know, even if it was none of his business. She wasn’t his girlfriend. “Well, are you?” he asked.
“No,” she said simply. “It’s not like that.” Sam looked at him, a challenge in her eyes. “Is that what you think of me?” she asked. “That I’m the kind of girl who runs around having sex with all of her not-boyfriends?”
“No,” Jonas said honestly. He was relieved though, the tight anxiety in his chest releasing. He turned to the window. “I might have been a little jealous.”
“Really?” Sam asked, staring at the side of his face.
“Sure.” He looked over. “Have you seen his car? It’s sweet.”
Samantha laughed, the tension lifting. They drove on and Samantha smiled to herself. “I may not know much about cars,” she said, “but I know enough to tell you that Mustangs suck.”
“Blasphemy!” Jonas said.
“Oh, please,” she replied, dismissively. “The only people who drive Mustangs are compensating for small dicks.”
Jonas tilted his head, staring at her. Sam glanced over and choked out a laugh. “Oh, shit. You drive one, don’t you?”
“Until it got wrecked. But I assure you, I—”
Samantha waved her hand, smiling madly, her cheeks red with embarrassment. “I have no doubts, Jonas.”
He shrugged, turning to look out the window, perfectly confident in his manhood. “You shouldn’t,” he said. He glanced back at her, the smile was still stuck to her lips.
They continued to drive and rain started to dot the windshield; Sam turned on the wipers. Jonas had no idea where they were going, but he didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want this to end. He would have ridden around with her for hours if she wanted to.
Jonas watched the rain-soaked branches sag on the oak trees as they passed, and he lowered his eyes. “What’s it like in the Dream World?” he asked in a quiet voice. “With us?”
“Easier,” she said. “It doesn’t matter what people think there.”
“And it does here?” Jonas asked, keeping his eyes trained on the floor of the car, trying not to give away how much the thought bothered him.
“Well, yeah,” Sam said after the silence stretched on. “Of course it matters.”
Jonas looked over, watching the side of her face as she drove. “That’s awfully shallow of you, Miss Birnam-Wood,” Jonas said, bitterness on his tongue.
Sam darted a look at him, her brow furrowed. “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “Jonas, you’re new here. And, to be honest, my friends think you’re…” She trailed off at a loss for words. “Look,” she added. “You and me—we’d be a total scandal. I swear, you don’t want that kind of attention.”
Jonas felt sick with jealousy, betrayal. He couldn’t even explain why—he barely knew her—but his anger was bubbling up. He wanted Sam for himself, and the idea that she didn’t think he was good enough fucking hurt.
“People can be awful,” Sam said. “The mob mentality, I’ve seen it.” Sam turned to face the windshield, her skin going pale. “My mother left when I was a kid because my dad got angry and ruined her. This community destroyed her. It may not be right, but reputation matters. At least in my world.”
Jonas sat silently, staring at the floor. After a moment, Sam reached over and touched his hand where it was resting on the seat.
“But we don’t need them,” she whispered. “We have our dreams, right?”
“Yeah, well, I can’t remember my dreams,” Jonas replied, his face stinging with rejection. “So I guess we don’t have shit.”
Samantha slowly retracted her hand, but she didn’t reply. She turned on the radio and drowned the silence between them, occasionally looking over at Jonas as he stared out the passenger window.
They ended up in a posh gated community where Jonas guessed one of the homes was hers. He felt more out of his league than ever. The houses were huge expanses, owned by the one percenters of Seattle. Rather than be impressed, Jonas felt angry. This had all been a mistake.
“I should get back,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m going to see my brother and then I have to work tonight.”
Samantha glanced at the clock. “It’s only 2:30. I thought…” She looked at Jonas. “You don’t want to come over?”
“No.” He couldn’t look at her, imagining her hurt expression was enough to shame him. He was jealous that she didn’t have to sneak around with Dan the same way she did with him. He was pissed that her social class ruled him out. But most of all, he hated that he cared. There were other girls, less complicated girls. For some reason he just really wanted this one.
“Okay,” Samantha said, checking her mirrors before taking a wide turn in the street and then heading back through the entry gates of the community. “But if this is your ego or something, you shouldn’t—”
“I’m staying at the Eden Hotel downtown,” he said, cutting her off. He could feel her staring at him, and he groaned and looked over. “What?”
“You’re living at the Eden?” she asked.
Jonas laughed bitterly. “Yes. I live in the basement of the Eden Hotel while I work as their doorman. Flashy enough for you?”
Samantha scoffed, turning back to the street. “Don’t be an asshole, Jonas,” she said. “I don’t care where you live or what you do for work. My dad owns the Eden. In fact, it’s been in my family since it opened. I’m just surprised I hadn’t heard we got a new doorman. All we talk about at dinner is that damn hotel.”
Of course her father owned the hotel he was working for. “Well, I just got the job yesterday, so maybe it’s on your agenda for tonight’s meal.”
Her lips parted and she turned to him again, wide-eyed. “Wait—was your brother the doorman who never showed?”
“Yeah. I’m taking his place until he wakes up. We were in an accident on the way into Seattle. My brother’s been in a coma ever since. But we have a new doctor. She’s very hopeful.”
Samantha swayed, touching her throat as if overcome with sympathy. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry. What…” She paused, seeming unsure of whether or not to go on, especially when Jonas was being less than pleasant. “What happened?” she asked softly.
Jonas could see that she wasn’t just curious—she cared. She wanted to know the details. His initial thought was that it was none of her business, but quickly, his resistance wore down. He hadn’t been able to talk to anyone about Alan, about the car accident, about how difficult it’d been to try to get by since. He rested his head back against the seat and turned toward her. And he told Samantha everything—every moment—as she drove them to the Eden Hotel.
Chapter Thirteen
The valet in front of the Eden came rushing out into the rain as Samantha pulled up to the curb. There was a second of awkward silence inside the car, and then Jonas mumbled a thank you and opened his door.
“Can I…” Sam started, and then looked down at her lap, her voice self-conscious. “Can I come see your room?” she asked.
The valet was at her window, but she made no move toward him. Hillenbrand was then at Jonas’s door with an umbrella, his eyes widening when he realized who it was. Jonas was about to tell Sam it wasn’t a good idea, but when she looked up at him, his will to resist waned.
“Sure,” he said.
“But you won’t be impressed.”
She opened the driver’s side door, peering at Jonas over the hood of the car as he got out. “You have no idea the kind of things I find impressive.” Sam looked past him, and nodded to the doorman. “How are you, Joseph?” she asked Hillenbrand. He immediately pulled the umbrella from over Jonas’s head and dashed around the car to cover her.
“Very well, Miss Birnam-Wood. Nice to see you,” he said. He shot Jonas a perplexed look, obviously stunned to see them together. Jonas had to admit that his pride swelled just a little.
Samantha tipped the valet and Hillenbrand, and then ducked from under the umbrella and walked over to grab Jonas’s arm, leading him into the building. Jonas looked back at Hillenbrand and the doorman flashed him a smile.
“Hide me,” Sam said, clinging close to Jonas’s side as they walked through the lobby. The girls behind the desk called out a hello to him, and he offered a curt wave, Sam’s body pressed to his side. They didn’t notice her, and when he and Sam got into the elevator, Jonas was saddened when she stepped back and took a deep breath.
“Thanks,” she said. “I really didn’t feel like talking to them today.”
Jonas adjusted his backpack on his shoulders and pressed the button for the basement. He and Sam rode in silence, the smell of rain sticking to Jonas’s clothes. A drop of water was running down Sam’s neck, and Jonas looked away quickly so he wouldn’t have the urge to wipe it off.
“It’s down here,” he said, motioning to the hall when the elevator doors opened. Sam followed behind him, standing quietly as Jonas unlocked his door. He pushed it open and reached in to flick on the light, the naked bulb coming to life. “Here it is,” he said, looking cautiously back at her. He was afraid her disgust would hurt him.
Sam didn’t say anything as she walked into the room. “It’s cute,” she said, turning to grin at him. If there was one thing this room wasn’t, it was cute. She ran her hand over the bedspread and paced the small space. Jonas didn’t mind her touching his bed at all, and leaned against the doorframe, watching. Sam looked back. “I can help if you want,” she said. “Get you upgraded to a suite.”
“That’s okay,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t mind it so much anymore. Less space to keep clean, right?”
“Then how about new sheets?” she suggested. Jonas felt a tingle run over his skin, and bit down on his jaw to keep from becoming entirely lust-filled. Here was this beautiful girl, alone with him is his room. And she wanted to talk about his bed.
“Sure,” he said, his face growing hot. “Four hundred-thread count Egyptian cotton.”
“Oh, please,” she said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “My dad owns the place. You’re getting thousand-thread count. Satin.”
“Fancy.”
“You’ll thank me.”
Jonas moved inside, letting the door close behind him. He wanted desperately to sit next to her on the bed, but he fought the urge, reminding himself that he was already entirely too invested. Samantha leaned back on her arms, waiting, but when Jonas made no move toward her, she smiled sadly.
“You like me, you know,” she said. “You asked about the dreams before, and when we’re there, I think you like me a lot.”
Jonas’s throat clicked as he swallowed, searching for a memory. Nothing came. “I don’t exactly think you’re horrible here,” he said, meeting her eyes. “Doesn’t mean I should come over there, though.”
She held his gaze, but he could see she was embarrassed that he read her desire. She straightened. “You’re a lot more fun in the dream world,” she said.
“Are you?” he asked.
She laughed, pretending to be offended. But then she smiled. “Actually, yeah. I think so. It’s different—no consequences.”
“My God, Samantha,” Jonas teased. “What exactly have we done in our dreams?”
She was quiet for a moment, and then leaned back on her arms again, downright seductive. “I can show you what we want to do,” she said quietly.
Good bye, self-control, Jonas thought and dropped his backpack on the floor near his feet, ready to toss aside all of his reservations. Before he took even one step, there was a sharp knock on the door behind him. Both he and Sam exchanged a concerned glance, and Jonas turned and paused at the door, holding the handle as he got control of himself. There was another knock.
Jonas swung open the door and Molly yelped, rattling the plates on the tray of food she was holding. She noticed Sam sitting on the bed, and quickly looked between her and Jonas.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Birnam-Wood,” she muttered, lowering her eyes. “I was just stopping by to bring Jonas’s dinner.”
Sam seemed absolutely mortified, but quickly stood and puffed herself up. “Oh, no worries,” she said. “I was just giving him a ride.” She stopped, widening her eyes. “A ride home. We have a project. Bio…chemistry.”
“Physics,” Jonas corrected, spinning to look at Sam and smiling broadly. “But of course, Miss Birnam-Wood here wants me to do all the work.”
Sam narrowed her eyes, but Jonas could see she liked that he was giving her a hard time. “Obviously Jonas is the smart one here,” she said, “but I do what I can. And I’m starting with his sheets.” She looked past him to Molly. “Can you please send over the satin bedding and maybe bring in a chair?” Sam moved toward the doorway, pausing next to Jonas. “It’s kind of indecent to sit on the bed, and since Jonas refused to come to my house or get upgraded, I guess I have to suffer.”
“It is a tough life,” Jonas offered. “Maybe next time I’ll spruce the place up with flowers or something.”
“Hm…” Sam hummed. “That would be nice. Thank you. So I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Jonas repeated.
Samantha smiled, and then reached to take the tray from Molly’s hands to pass to Jonas, the assistant still stunned as she watched them. “Here you go,” Sam told Jonas as he took the metal tray from her hands. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Anderson.”
Jonas licked his lips, and nodded, watching as she walked past Molly into the hallway. There was a moment of silence, and when Jonas looked at Molly, he found her staring at him.
“Are the two of you—”
“No,” Jonas replied quickly, steadying his tray with one hand as he grabbed a fry off the plate. “I’m not her type,” he told her, which was true, even if Samantha was quickly making strides in becoming his absolute type.
“That’s good,” Molly said, her expression unreadable. “Because…” She stalled, furrowing her brow. “It’s good because Marshall wouldn’t like it. Enjoy your dinner.” She turned and hurried down the hall. Jonas stuck his head out of this doorway and saw her head back to the kitchen.
“Thanks for the food,” he called after her. She lifted her finger to acknowledge she heard him, but didn’t turn back. “Okay,” Jonas said to himself, and went inside his room, still half-crazed from one girl and puzzled by the behavior of another.
“Hey there, brother,” Jonas said as he dropped into the chair next to Alan’s bed. “I’ve missed you.” The hum of Alan’s ventilator greeted him in return and Jonas looked around the room, pretending not to notice. He glanced back at Alan, noting that his color had improved slightly, and the bandages had been removed from around his head. His right eye was still blackened, but the edges had faded to green. His stitched skin was healing nicely. He’ll look good once he wakes up, Jonas thought. He’ll be happy that there’s not much scarring.
Jonas rested back in the chair and put his foot up on the metal corner of the bed. “Remember that girl I mentioned the other day?” Jonas asked. “She’s driving me crazy. She came over today and I swear to god she wanted to jump my bones. I almost let her, too.” Jonas laughed. “You would have been proud of my restraint though. I was a goddamn gentleman.”
There was a soft knock on the door an
d Jonas looked over his shoulder as Doctor Moss stepped in. “Oh, good,” she said, smiling kindly. “I hoped to see you today. How are you?”
“Good,” Jonas replied. “Looks like Alan’s doing better.” His voice held a bit of hope.
Doctor Moss pressed the clipboard to her chest. “He is,” she said. “His tests came back and I’m delighted to say, despite the earlier reports, Alan’s brain activity appears to be normal. There’s no residual damage from the accident.”
“What?” Jonas dropped his feet to the floor and stood. “So, he’s fine?”
“It seems so. Well, except for—” she motioned to Alan’s sleeping body.
“Why doesn’t he wake up then?” Jonas asked. “If there’s no damage, and his organs are good…” He paused as if this were a question. The doctor nodded that his organs were indeed healthy. “So where is he?” Jonas asked.
Doctor Moss shrugged one shoulder. “We don’t know what’s causing his coma,” she said. “Right now, we just have to hope that Alan wakes up. Every minute he spends in that bed, his body deteriorates. But there is one thing we can try.” She tilted her head, a doubtful expression crossing her face. “Dream therapy.”
Jonas felt an odd twist in his gut, a quick want to hide the fact that he knew all about dreams. He stayed cautious. “What is dream therapy?”
Doctor Moss studied him a minute and walked over to pause at the end of Alan’s bed. “I work under the theory that we all share a consciousness when we sleep,” she started. “Just like we do when we’re awake. Now we don’t necessarily share dreams, we have our personal spaces, but with the right stimulus and conditions, I believe we can get to a place of shared dreaming. I’ve seen it happen with Lucid Dreamers.”
“So you do know about lucid dreaming?” Jonas asked, his voice going up in pitch. When he first mentioned the possibility to Doctor Moss yesterday, she seemed somewhat dismissive.
