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Something about Charlie’s presence clearly bothers Samantha, though I cannot figure out why. She’s not jealous, is she? No, that cannot be it. She has made it clear there are no feelings between the two of us, so I ignore that theory and change the subject. “What are your plans for the day? Is your mother here?”
“No, she’s home. I told her not to move from her chair in the living room until I got back,” she says with a half-smile. Then her brown eyes go unfocused as she stares at the corner of my desk. “I feel like I need to watch every breath she takes. It’s a lot more intense than I thought it would be.”
“Caring for your mother, you mean?”
Samantha lets out a deep whoosh of breath. “Yeah.”
I wish to comfort her because it is clear she needs comforting, but I am surprised she came to me for it. I’m not sure how to proceed. “Do you…wish to talk about it?”
My words seem to break through her thoughts as she shakes her head and puts on a smile that I can tell is not genuine.
“Nah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” she says, straightening her spine. “I think I’m still getting used to my new life.” Leaning forward, she places her elbows on the edge of the desk and rests her face in her hands. She lets out an excited gasp at the sight of my bowl of Starburst. “Where are the yellow ones?” she asks as grabs several reds and pinks in her fist.
“The yellow ones are my favorite. I’ve eaten them all.”
“You don’t like the pink ones?”
“No,” I reply. “I should take these home for my brothers. They enjoy the other flavors.”
She narrows her gaze at me as she chews. “You know you can buy the individual colors in bulk, right?”
“What? You can?”
“Yeah,” she says with an amused laugh. “On Amazon. I’ll send you the link.” She finishes the candies and gestures toward my hands. “Gimme.”
Confused, but more curious, I do as she says. Samantha uncurls her fist and drops several pink and red Starburst wrappers into my palm. “Buy yourself something nice,” she says with a smirk.
It’s such an odd thing to do; I’m unsure of how to respond. “Um, you realize this is not an acceptable form of currency.”
She makes a “psh” sound with her mouth. “Not with that attitude.” She brushes a stray curl off her forehead and asks, “What are you up to today?”
“I am putting together a rather marvelous fundraiser,” I state proudly, my chest puffing a bit at my hard work. “Next month, we will hold a trivia night with aBridgertontheme. The food and drinks will be donated by Supreme Buns––lemonade and finger sandwiches. Is that not perfect? And there will be prizes.”
“Wow, that sounds amazing,” she says, impressed. “I think people will love that.” She chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “Do you need any help? Organizing with the vendor or social media promotion?”
“Oh, no, Samantha,” I tell her. It is nice of her to offer, but she has far too much to occupy her time as it is. “You don’t need to do anything. I can enlist Charlie for help.”
Her face falls. “Right. Charlie.”
“But I would love it if you attended the event,” I offer in an attempt to lift her expression into one of joy. “Perhaps you will be the winner of the night.”
“Probably not, actually. I’ve never read the books or watched the show.”
I jerk back in my seat, unable to believe the words that just left her pretty mouth. “You are not serious.”
She laughs. “Dead serious.”
“Do you not enjoy historical romance?”
“Mmm, I’m not a fan of romance in general, actually.”
Now I am utterly speechless. Based on the borrowing data, it is clear that human females enjoy reading the romance genre more than males, and I shall never understand this because the genre serves as a clear guide for what females are seeking from their partners.
Why would the males of this planet waste such an opportunity to give them what they desire? But setting aside male foolishness for a moment, what Samantha says simply does not compute. It is obvious she does not enjoy the act of reading in the traditional sense, but she does not even enjoy listening to romance on audiobook?
“Why not?” I finally ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It just seems kind of trite, I guess.”
