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“Luckily for you two, you’re the only weirdos we know that order bacon, jalapeños, and pineapple,” Theo continues.
“Listen,” Sam starts. “It’s not my fault you have bad taste and can’t recognize that pineapple does in fact belong on a pizza.”
“Thank you!” I raise my hands in victory. “I have been trying to get them to understand that for the last year.”
As Madeline and Theo start listing off all the reasons why we’re wrong, Sam leans in.
“While they’re trying to justify why they’re wrong, let’s go pick the next song on the jukebox.”
FOUR
SAM
I definitely didn’t mean to damn near grope the woman I just met, not that I wouldn’t mind groping her, but consent is key and I just randomly reached over and grabbed her leg.
I don’t know what kind of a spell the woman has over me but she causes me to do shit without thinking—like grab ahold of her shaking thigh and suggest we go pick out songs on the old fashioned jukebox when I haven’t so much as spoken to a woman that I’m interested in years.
She leads me, because she was sitting on the outside of the booth, and I should be a gentleman, I know this, but instead, I admire her delicious curves. She’s got a perfect ass, and I have to force my eyeballs away from it as we reach our destination.
“Let me guess, you’re a country type of guy,” she guesses. “But not new country, you like the old stuff. Tim McGraw, Kenny Chesney, Garth Brooks…” She looks at me with a twinkle in her baby blues, and I almost hate to burst her bubble, but country music? Not a chance.
Shaking my head, I pretend to blanch and her eyes grow wide.
“Seriously?” I totally thought I was onto something. I’m usually good at this kind of stuff.
I chuckle as she visibly deflates.
“Listen, it was a nice try, and I definitely need to know what about me puts off that I’m a country music type of guy”—I narrow my eyes—“but I’m definitely an alternative rock, punk rock, really most kinds of rock type of man.” I smile as I place one hand against the side of the jukebox and lean toward it. “I’m kinda disappointed I don’t give off an edgy, I’ve done time kind of guy,” I tell her. “That’s what I was going for.”
She steps closer to me and I inhale her, something sweet, like cherries, wafting off of her. “Thanks for the story about your grandfather. I’m still trying to adjust to being a criminal, you know. Petty shit or not, follows a guy around.” I think about it for a minute, about the fact that I just joked about my incarceration days. “I haven’t told a joke about being locked up until just now, and it feels weird but…”
“It’s a small town, Sam,” she interrupts as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was pills. No one thinks they were yours. You did it to cover for your cousin, didn’t you?”
“You two picking three songs or fifty?” Madeline yells over the currently playing music, causing us to both break our intense stare.
“She’s a pain in my butt,” Lucy says, and I smile, too.
And it feels so fucking good.
I feel like I can talk to her about this, and it’s either going to be a mistake or something real amazing, so I do something else I haven’t done in a long time…
I take a chance.
“Yeah. I’ve never done drugs. I like rock n’ roll but I’m not about the lifestyle. Yeah, I wanna be edgy but I’d rather just look the part than play it, you know? But my cousin…I had just found out about his baby being on the way. Couldn’t let him go down for his shit. He had a lot more to lose than I did.”
“Well, I’d say you’re a really good man, Sam Blackwell,” Lucy says just before biting down on her plump bottom lip.
I’d give just about anything to claim that pretty mouth of hers right about now…but I don’t want our first kiss to be at Ma’s.
And there will be a first kiss.
I’m sure of it.
I decide to change the subject. We can talk about my past in more depth eventually, that is if she wants to, but it’s been a long day and I’d like to show her a thing or two about what good music is.
I turn toward the jukebox, and she follows suit.
“So, I’m going to do everyone in this place a favor and play an old Green Day jam,” I tell her. “And if you tell me you don’t like old school Green Day…” I shrug, shaking my head as I feign disinterest. “I mean, it just means no matter how pretty I think you are, Ms. Heart, it’s not going to go anywhere.”
