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He knew she was teasing, but what if she was serious too? “Does that mean I’m good-looking?”
She smirked, those rosy lips of her curving. “You know, in a nice-boy way.”
“I’m not a dreamboat.”
She drew back so their arms were no longer touching, and acted as if she were evaluating him. “Maybe you’d be a dreamboat for the right girl.”
“Not you?”
She laughed, then shoved his arm. But she was blushing too. “You’re nuts, Sam. You’re like my...brother.”
He knew it—of course he knew it—but hearing her say the words felt like she’d socked him in the stomach. He thought he’d kept his expression neutral, but apparently he hadn’t.
“Sam?” Her mouth dropped open. Then she scrambled off the hammock and faced him. “Do you...” Her voice cut off as if she wasn’t physically able to finish the question.
He was at a crossroads. He could laugh this off, say he was teasing, meant nothing by it. Or...he could confess. He decided to do what he’d come here for. Rising to his feet, he swallowed, then said, “Look, Susan, I need to tell you something.”
She took a step back, her eyes rounded.
He folded his arms, then unfolded them and set his hands on his hips. “I’d like to take you to the Spring Fling. You don’t need to worry about a new dress. You’d look beautiful in anything.”
Was he talking too fast? “And I, uh, we could go as friends like we’ve always been. But if there’s any chance you see me as something other than a buddy, or a brother”—he winced—“I wouldn’t mind that either.” He drew in a breath, although he wasn’t sure if Susan was breathing at all. “I like you, Susan. As a friend, of course. Always have. But lately, I’ve realized something else. I like you more than a friend. And I have to tell you because it’s been eating me up inside for a while. I want you to know the truth.”
Susan didn’t say anything for a long moment, but her face had gone from pink to a rather pale white, which made her freckles more pronounced. “Sam,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to come up with any answer right now.” Deflation coursed through him. “Maybe we could talk later today. Or tomorrow. Or whenever you want.”
She gave a slow nod, but didn’t respond.
Sam should go, he really should. He’d shocked her enough. He bent to pick up the book that had fallen and set it on the hammock. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and headed out of the yard. His house was only three down, and by the time he got home, his throat felt like a boulder was stuck in it.
He didn’t know if it being a Saturday was good or bad. He wouldn’t see her until Monday unless he went to church, and that would be really obvious. Surely she wouldn’t make him wait too long, right? Even if her answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear, it would at least put him out of his misery.
Because miserable was how he felt.
He headed into the house. His mom had left the windows open to let in the late winter air. He could hear a radio playing music from the kitchen and guessed she was in there getting an early start on dinner preparations. His father had taken on a second job and worked weekends, as well as his regular job during the week. It had been decided after a vigorous discussion between his parents of whether his mom should take in ironing to help their budget.
His father had finally declared that he didn’t want his wife to iron another man’s clothing. The statement was extreme, but it seemed the entire country was dealing with anxiety over finances, and his parents were no exception.
Sam would normally hang out in the kitchen and help his mom, but right now, he needed to get his head straightened out. And his heart. He took the stairs two at a time to his second-floor bedroom. A poster stared at him from the wall that said, “Join the Air Service. Learn-Earn.”
Sam aimed to join the Air Service. He flopped onto his bed and sprawled out, propping his hands behind his head, thinking about Susan. Doubts began to plague him, and he wondered if he should have told her that he liked her.
She was his best friend, and he didn’t want anything to change that. Why couldn’t he have been more patient? He’d let the boys talking about the Spring Fling push him into confessing too fast. He should have waited, because he liked Susan for life, and he didn’t really care about a school dance. Sure, it wouldn’t be any fun seeing her go out with Jerry, or whoever else, but the silence between them was much worse.
Sam moved off his bed and paced the small room between the twin beds and single dresser. He supposed he could go talk to one of the fellas, but they’d just tell him he was an idiot. And he already knew that.
With a sigh, he headed out of his room and down the stairs.
His mother sat at the kitchen table now, peeling a few potatoes.
“Want some help?” he asked.
She waved him off. “I’m almost finished. I thought you were going to see Susan?”
“I did see her.”
At the flat tone of his voice, she seemed to know things hadn’t gone well. She reached to turn off the radio. “What’s going on? Did you two get into a fight?”
