“You too, Chloe,” Sam replies.
I don’t hear the rest of their goodbye. I’m too busy scurrying back to the hotel as fast as my feet can carry me. I don’t want either one of them, especially Sam, to catch me spying on them. It’s difficult to run, however, when your heart is already beating a million miles a minute.
What just happened? Did Chloe and Sam break up? Or were they never actually together? From what it sounded like, she doesn’t feel the same way and she never did. She’s even going on date with someone else tonight. I don’t want to feel happy about this, you know, for Sam’s sake, but I’m ashamed to admit that I suddenly like Chloe Conley a lot more than I did about ten minutes ago.
But Sam! What about him? He must be heartbroken. Or at least let down. No matter how much I wanted this (and I really, really wanted it), I can’t be happy knowing that it’s come at his expense. Knowing that he’s hurting is, in a way, even worse than knowing that he liked someone else.
I kind of figured I wasn’t going to win this one, but I never imagined it was a lose-lose situation no matter the outcome. For him as much as me.
CHAPTER 19
“And won’t you think of me
If you’re feeling lonely
And you don’t know where to run
And won’t you think of me
When the night is falling
I want to help you find the sun
Won’t you think of me
Because I’ll be thinking of you...”
Song: “Think of Me”
Artist: The Kind of September
From the Album:17 Times Over
Once, after the guys’ second album came out, I was scrolling through posts on Twitter. Most of the comments were positive, but there was one remark that stood out to me.
How can Sam Morneau or any of #TKOS sing about being lonely or feeling sad? They could literally have anyone they wanted.
At first, I kind of thought they had a point. Most of the time, it seems like the guys have conquered the world. They’re rich, famous, popular, handsome, and yeah, could probably have any single person that they want, just because they’re The Kind of September. And that’s where things get complicated.
The guys have always agreed that it’s strange meeting someone new, because they can never be sure that they like them for who they really are. It sounds so cliché, I know, but that age old saying is true. It is lonely at the top.
They’re young, they have their whole lives ahead of them and the entire world to explore, but at the end of the day, we all look forward to having someone to love. We all wonder who will share our lives. The guys are the same way. They want to feel loved and accepted, and sometimes, they struggle with it. Just like everybody else.
That’s why I’m worried for Sam tonight. He rarely gets emotional or truly upset about anything. He hates for anyone to know that something is bothering him. He’d rather brush it off with a laugh or a smile. But I have a terrible feeling that what happened tonight with Chloe will get to him. Not because he was desperately in love with her, but because of the way he sounded when he was apologizing to her. He sounded so repentant, like he had actually done something wrong.
I’m even more concerned because we’ve had dinner up here in Josh, Jesse, and Oliver’s room for almost twenty minutes and he still hasn’t shown up. Sam doesn’t miss meals. It just doesn’t happen. And I know I’m not going to be able to eat until I know that he’s okay.
As if he’s read my thoughts, Josh asks, “Where the hell is Sam, anyway? Did he miss the memo that we have Thai up here?”
“Doubtful, since he was with us when we got it,” Oliver says.
“I’ll go find him,” I announce. I don’t think anyone is surprised. Or eager to join me, for that matter. Food is probably way too high up on their priority lists.
Setting my untouched plate of pad thai and spring rolls aside, I leave the guys’ room and head a mere two doors down to Sam and Cory’s room. I knock on the door, hoping that he’ll answer. He probably will. Sam isn’t the kind of person who shuts his friends out, even when he wants to be alone.
Sure enough, he answers within seconds. He’s already dressed in his baggy tank top and pajama pants and he’s munching on a mouthful of potato chips. I guess that means that if he is upset about Chloe, he’s not upset about it enough to not eat. That’s a good sign.
“Hey,” I greet him. “You okay?”
“Yep. I’m good,” he replies. At first I wonder why he’s trying to act like there’s nothing going on. Then I remember that he doesn’t know that I overheard what happened between him and Chloe.
“Why aren’t you at dinner?”
He shrugs. “Not really in the mood for Thai.”
“Oh. Okay.” I’m not sure how to go about any of this, so I just keep talking. “Do you want some company?”
“As long as you don’t have a hidden camera designed to locate my secret stash,” he replies with a grin.
“Oh, darn. You just thwarted my evil plan.”
“I know you too well,” he says with a wink.
I make my way inside, astonished by the mess they’ve already managed to make inside the room. Or should I say the mess that Sam has already managed to make. Cory’s side of the room is spotless, as it should be, considering we’ve only been here about eight hours.
“Did your suitcase accidentally explode?” I ask Sam.
“What? This is tidy,” he claims.
“You are so lucky you’re cute,” I tell him. Usually, that would get a quick smile out of him, maybe even a bit of a blush. But he doesn’t even blink.
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure that will do anything for me either,” he remarks, dropping down onto his bed.
“What does that mean?” I ask, taking a seat next to him.
“Nothing, nothing,” he replies with a wave of his hand. “I’m just saying stuff.”
“Does it have something to do with Chloe?” I ask without even thinking as he turns curious albeit dreamy blue eyes on me.
And now he knows that I was spying on him. Oh well. He was going to figure it out eventually. I might as well come out and admit it.
“Why do you say that?” he asks.
“Because I’m your best friend and I can read your mind,” I tell him. “That, or I may have overheard you talking to her in the alley when I went out to help bring the food in.” He looks like he doesn’t know how to respond, so I quickly apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to listen. I heard you talking and I didn’t know what to do and I wanted to know that you were okay and... I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m not mad at you,” he assures me.
“Are you sure? Because I might be mad at me.” I mean, most normal people would be mad, right? I just openly admitted to eavesdropping on a very personal conversation. But Sam doesn’t seem to care.
“I could never be mad at you, Mel. You know that.”
Why? Why did he have go and say those totally wonderful and adorable words? See, this is the kind of thing that makes it so hard for me to not love him. Not to mention the fact that his hair is all messy and I’ve got a really great view of the tattoos on his chest thanks to the tank top that he’s wearing and -
Oh my God! What am I thinking? My friend just had his heart broken in a Los Angeles alleyway and here I am trying to sneak a peak at his almost-naked torso!
“So,” I clear my throat, hoping he doesn’t realize just how close I came to gawking at his sexy tattoos. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, but his words sound off, almost automatic.
“Are you really okay?” I press, but he doesn’t respond. It’s only then that I realize just how much this whole situation really is bothering him. “I’m sorry, Sam. I know you really liked her.”
“That’s the thing, Mel. I didn’t like her.”
“What?” What does he mean he didn’t like her? True, he never outright said that it was her that he liked, but there wa
s obviously something there to make the entire world think that they were in love. “Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it? If you didn’t like her, then why worry about what she said?”
“I have a feeling you didn’t hear the entire conversation,” Sam tells me. “She told me that dating me, even rumors about dating me, were terrible for her career and her image. She said she’s never had so much hatred directed at her, that her reps were overwhelmed with media outlets wondering if she knew about my quote-unquote reputation as a womanizer and all around douchebag.”
“What?” At first, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Then I wonder why. I’ve always known that the media likes to portray Sam as the heartbreaker of the group. I guess I’m just surprised that Chloe would hold that against him.
“I can’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to be known for dating a Kelli Barnett or a Tara Meeks.”
“But Sam, you are so much better than those girls.”
“Not according to the media. Even if they did portray me in a decent light, so many of the fans care so much about who I date that they’d probably harass anyone I supposedly was with if they didn’t feel like she was good enough for me.”
“Well, I guess it’s nice that they’re protective,” I offer tentatively. Sam shakes his head and manages a chuckle, but I know this is still bothering him. “Sam, you’ve known for a long time that the media likes to spread lies about you and that the fans can be a little... rabid.” Again, the small laugh. The sound makes my heart skip. “Why is it getting to you now?”
“It’s gotten to me long before this, but I’ve always been able to shrug it off, reminding myself how fortunate I am to be here, and how all the good things in my life so far outweigh the bad that I shouldn’t even be permitted to dwell. But I think hearing Chloe say that the idea of dating me was bad for her career... it kind of made me realize that I’d be toxic for any girl, not just a celebrity with an image to maintain.”
“Sam...” The look on his face, the sadness in his voice, is breaking my heart all over again. “You can’t think that.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s true. It doesn’t matter who I date, or who I’m even seen with. Assumptions are going to be made, rumors are going to fly, online abuse is going to skyrocket, and I just couldn’t let anyone go through that, especially someone I really care about.”
“Sam, I know it seems like that now, but if a girl loves you, if she really loves you, that stuff won’t matter. I mean, it probably won’t be fun, but if having to endure a little gossip is the price to pay to be with you, I think any girl would gladly pay that price. They’d probably be willing to pay more.”
By now, I’m feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Not because my heart is pounding so fast I can barely breathe, but because my emotions are running so high and so raw that I’m afraid, if I’m not careful, they might consume what little rationality I possess. But I can’t seem to stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. I need Sam to know how much he means, not just to me, but to so many people around the world.
“But they shouldn’t have to,” Sam argues with me. “No one should have to pay any price to be with someone. I’m not worth that.”
“Sam, how can you say that? You are so worth it,” I insist, looking him square in the eye. “You’re worth everything.”
And that’s when I kiss him.
Trust me, I had no idea this was coming. This is not a premeditated act. It’s barely even a conscious one, and it’s over before I even realize that it’s happened. I don’t have time to think about how soft his lips were beneath mine, or the fact that I could feel his breath on my face, or that his hand slipped over to mine before I pull away, totally and completely mortified.
Oh my God. Oh my God, what have I done?
If the look on his face is any indication, he’s feeling about the same way.
I know I say this a lot, but this time, my life isreallyover.
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. Sam, I - I don’t know why I did that. I’m so sorry. Please, forget that happened.” Trembling all over, I leap to my feet and stumble across the mess of scattered clothes and trash to the door, all the while rambling off pathetic apologies over and over again. “Really, I don’t know what got into me. You just looked so sad and I wanted to make you feel better, and I know I shouldn’t have, but I really wasn’t thinking.”
All the while, Sam looks like he’s doing some quick consideration. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are still parted, almost like they’re frozen in place by my kiss. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, so I keep talking. It comes pretty naturally, especially since he’s suddenly clammed up like... well, aclam.
“Anyway, I really probably should get going. I hope you’re not mad and I really hope that this isn’t going to make things weird between us, because you’re my best friend and - ”
Before I can say another word, however, Sam has crossed the room in just a few long-legged strides. He takes his fingers and brushes my loose strands of hair away from my eyes, cupping my face in his hands. He presses his slim body up against mine and he looks at me with those eyes that I’ve known and loved my entire life.
And that’s when he kisses me.
CHAPTER 20
“Her hand was never his to hold
Her love is yours, or so I’m told
So tell me what are you waiting for?
Don’t just stand there
She’s waiting for you
To take back her heart...”
Song: “Take Back Her Heart”
Artist: The Kind of September
From the Album:The Kind of September
The first time Sam kissed me, we were ten years old. Our families were having lunch down at West Bluffs Picnic Area. It was a beautiful summer day. The sea and the sky were shimmering shades of blue, the grass was green, and we had a perfect view of the Golden Gate Bridge. As usual, Sam and I had run off, seeking adventure. Or maybe, even then, we just wanted to be with each other. Either way, we ended up running down the beach toward the pier.
The water was a little cold for swimming, but not too cold to keep us from splashing around with our bare feet. Despite the chill, we both ended up drenched from head to toe and covered in sand.
I know, it really doesn’t sound very romantic. In fact, there was absolutely nothing romantic about it. I can’t really even remember how it even came up. It was kind of just one of those kid moments. We were searching for sea glass when we spotted a young couple running into the ocean and laughing. The guy grabbed the girl by the waist and twirled her around. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Have you ever kissed anyone?” Sam asked.
“No.”
“It looks like it’d be weird.” Typical boy comment.
“Yeah,” I agreed, wanting to sound cool, like I really didn’t care one way or another. But I was ten years old, old enough to qualify as a pre-teen. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about kissing before.
Sam kicked around in the sand for a few more moments before he asked, “Would you kiss me?”
I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. Once I realized that he wasn’t, I said, “Okay.” That was seriously all it took. If my parents had overheard that conversation, they’d probably be just a tad bit concerned that their eldest daughter was so compliant at such a young age.
I still remember everything about that first kiss. He closed his eyes, but I kept mine open at the last millisecond, certain that I was somehow going to mess it up. But I didn’t. The kiss was quick and a little abrasive, as kid kisses tend to be, but it was still the most exciting moment of my life up until that point.
After it ended, we never spoke of it again. To anyone. I don’t know why, really. I guess for the same reason I never told him how I really feel about it. Because I didn’t want to ruin what we had.
It’s kind of weird when you think about it: the idea that
telling someone that you love them, that you really care about them, will somehow ruin a relationship. I guess it happens, especially if someone doesn’t reciprocate, but doesn’t everyone want to be told that they’re loved? That they’re special to someone? How can that be a bad thing? But in my mind, it was.
For the record, I don’t think that anymore.
⋯
Of all the scenarios that I imagined involving Sam kissing me, this is one that I only halfway expected. Yeah, I kind of thought that it might happen while we were alone in his hotel room. I mean, we are alone in there a lot. But I always kind of expected it to be a shy kiss, sort of bashful, maybe a little reluctant.
This kiss is none of the above.
It’s the kind of kiss you see in movies. It’s confident and passionate and sexy. It’s so many things that my mind actually goes blank, having short-circuited trying to keep up with all these new sensations.
SAM is kissing me. Sam is KISSING me. Sam is kissing ME.
After he pulls away, we stare at each other for a few moments. He looks about as dazed and incoherent as I feel.
“Wow,” is all I can manage.
He just grins and kisses me again, which I am totally okay with.
This time I try to think less. I’m not an experienced kisser, by any means, so I’m kind of terrified that I’ll somehow screw this up. Sam, on the other hand, isn’t concerned at all. Like most everything else in the world, kissing just seems to come naturally to him. That, or he’s had a lot more practice than I have. We’ll go with the first theory.
Unlike most kisses I’ve seen and experienced, where the guy wraps his arm around the girl’s waist, Sam is content keeping his hands close to my face. I don’t mind, not in the least. The way he’s delicately touching my skin and running fingers through my hair, it feels like he cherishes me, like I’m something precious. His touch alone is enough to make me weak at the knees.
When we break apart again, he looks at me and says, “You know, if I didn’t know better... I’d think you liked me.”
Boy Band Page 16
