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“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Sam’s heart thudded against his ribs. He was dizzy.
“Then how about this.”
And with that, he leaned forward and kissed her. Evie put a hand to her lips and stared at Sam.
“Um. You might say something here. Or slap me. Hoping it’s not that, though,” Sam joked, and swallowed hard.
“How do I know that’s real?” Evie said after she’d caught her breath.
“Let me prove it.” Sam kissed her again, longer this time.
And for the first time that night, Evie did feel loved. Sam wasn’t telling her to act more like a “good girl.” He didn’t want her to be anybody but who she was. Why had she tortured herself by not letting him in?
“I’m still not convinced,” Evie said. Her head buzzed. “You… you might have to make your case more strongly.”
Sam’s grin was wolfish, but inside he was balloons and champagne, a full goddamn birthday party. “Sure thing, Lamb Chop.”
Evie put a finger to Sam’s lips and frowned. “I believe I have made my feelings about that name plain.”
Sam licked up the length of her finger, drawing a gasp from her. “What can I say? I’m a naughty boy.”
“How naughty?”
“Would you like to find out?”
Evie knew she should come back with a quip, but everything felt too real right now. She needed to be real with someone. “I would. But I’m afraid of what I’ll find out. I just need something that doesn’t feel like a lie.”
“Okay.” Sam swallowed hard, took a deep breath. “Then here it is: All the times I say, ‘Don’t see me’? With you, I wish I had an opposite power: See me. See me, Evie. See all of me. There’s a fella who loves you right here. I’m not perfect. I’m a handful. But you know what? So are you. There. Not sugarcoating it.”
“But… what if I love you and you go away?” Evie said, almost a whisper.
“Sheba, I’m sitting across from you right now. Don’t you see that I’m not going anywhere?”
And she knew he was being honest. There was such fear in the world. But love was everywhere if you looked. It was the best thing about humans. That they could stare into the abyss and still open up their hearts. A spit in the eye to fear.
Evie laced her fingers with Sam’s and rubbed her thumb gently across the delicate fretwork of veins at his wrist, the pulse of her thumb against the pulse beneath his skin, faintly felt but sure and constant. Later, she wouldn’t be able to say who had kissed whom first. It didn’t matter. It only mattered that they were kissing. They lay side by side on the peach satin quilt of her bed, bodies smashed together, Evie’s top leg wedged between Sam’s so that she could feel the heat of him pressed against her, making her dizzy from this new rush of desire.
Sam pulled away suddenly.
“Wha-what’s the matter?” Evie panted. She wanted him back. Wanted nothing but to be doing what they had been doing. Ached for it.
He took her face in his hands and stared into her eyes, narrowing his own. “You’re not possessed by ghosts this time, are you?”
Evie wrenched her head free from Sam’s palms. “Sam, honestly!”
He grinned. “Just checking.”
Evie kissed her way up the salty sweetness of his throat, to his ear, which she nibbled very softly, then whispered, “I am the Forgotten, forgotten no more.”
“Holy moly!” Sam jumped and Evie fell back against the pillow in a fit of laughter.
“Oh, Sam, y
our face!”
