He narrows his eyes and leans forward. “Very clever. You could be right. But then, why? Was there a secret purpose? Or was it a construction error and some step builder fouled things up? Other things might be fouled up in this godforsaken building, and we might be at risk. I mean, there could be a huge structural problem with this hospital.”
“You seem rather paranoid,” I mutter.
“Perhaps. Perhaps it’s realistic.” He jumps the rest of the steps until his feet are near mine. Then, he pivots and drops down, so he is sitting next to me. “Hi,” he says again.
“Hi.”
“I’m Sam. Sam Bishop.”
“I’m Stella Ford.”
“What brings you to the hospital today?”
I push my hair back. “My father and sister were in a car accident.”
“Shit. Are they okay?”
“Yeah, I think so, but I guess it was close. Black ice and stuff. I haven’t seen them, but my mother says they weren’t hurt. Airbags and stuff.”
“I’m glad.”
We sit silently for a minute, and I’m growing more and more uncomfortable with every second. My experience with boys is pretty limited, and the fact that he is undeniably cute is not making me confident. He should probably go away and leave me alone, but it would be impolite not to ask him why he’s here today, so I do.
“Oh God, it’s ridiculous. I’m with a friend of mine. We’re in Chicago for a class trip, and he snuck off to see a girl that he’d met. Ran into some kind of trouble and got himself banged up a bit. I can’t see anything wrong with him, except that he’s being loud and annoying.”
His smile is endearing and mesmerizing, and I have to do what I can to avoid staring for too long.
“That’s nice of you to stay with him. Are his parents here?” I ask.
“Nah. We’re from Maine, so they’re far away, not that they’d bother coming anyway. Not really those kind of parents, if you know what I mean.”
I nod. “I do.” Sam doesn’t say anything else, so I add, “I’ve never been to Maine.”
“Really? It’s awesome. My parents run a big inn, The Coastal. It’s right on the ocean in Watermark. It’s a small town that’s dead in the winter and packed in the summer.”
“Lobsters,” is all I say, and inside, I cringe. If I could disappear right now, I would.
“What?” For some reason, he just looks curious, not judgmental over my complete lack of social skills.
“Sorry. It’s just, when you said you were from Maine, I immediately thought of lobsters. I’ve never had lobster, and I wouldn’t even know how to begin with the shell and stuff.”
“So, when you come to Maine, I will show you how to tackle lobsters, okay?” His arm brushes against my pants as he peers down and points to my feet. “Yeesh. What happened?”
Quickly, I try to tuck my feet into the corner of the step and yank up my socks. I wince audibly. “Nothing.” I reach for the railing to stand. “I should go.”
“How about I walk you downstairs, and we get someone to patch you up?”
“That’s okay.” I fiddle with my revolting socks. “I’m really okay.”
Sam sets a hand on my shoulder and sits me back down. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
I watch with curiosity as he two-foot hops down to the landing. His hair is cut short, but it still bounces with each jump. The subtle auburn highlights are showing, even in this dark stairwell.
Sam stops and looks at me. “I’ll be right back. I promise. You’ll stay here?”
The way he smiles softly at me compels me to nod and to smile back only because it’s impossible not to.
I listen to the sound of his ridiculous hops and then hear him open the door on a landing a few floors below us. I notice the quiet that surrounds me now that he is gone. As I fiddle with the bracelet on my left hand, I notice that my hands are smeared with blood. Perfect. How incredibly appealing.
