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I gulp nervously as I read the conversation once more.
No! Sami is not like Masse. He's not the kind to pry into others' affairs. Besides, there's no reason for him to be interested in me like that. I’m not his girlfriend or anything…
I let out a sigh, deciding to erase the messages, just in case, and then toss my phone onto the nightstand. As I glance around the room, my eyes land on a corner of paper sticking out from the book he was reading last night, left on the nightstand near the headboard, and I'm reassured that it wasn't just a dream.
Samael really was here last night.
Thank you, it says on a little note torn from a notebook.
I leap out of bed, suddenly worried that he tore it from my math notebook, which I had left on the desk, filled with random scribbles and messy notes. When I open the notebook, I find a piece torn from the last page.
Samael made sure to rip it from the end.
How cute is that?
I touch my forehead, feeling like I could kill him as I remember that I have a crazy teacher who won't accept a notebook filled with scribbles and doodles. Flipping through the pages, I find that he even solved the math problem. I start laughing, thrilled to have his handwriting on my math notebook, and I clutch it to my chest.
?? ?????? ??
Today, I catch a glimpse of Sami during our classes. He's wearing a sleek black mask and a uniform that Uriel must have brought him, along with his black backpack adorned with badges from a few underground bands he listens to. This is another unique touch that I've always admired about him. Sami's taste in music is incredible, always gravitating towards lesser-known bands, especially within the rock genre. It's just one more thing that draws me to him.
It feels like everything has settled down, and life is slowly returning to normal. I'm feeling a bit tired, and the stress comes knocking again when I receive a message from Manasseh. He asks me to bring him a juice box during the long break, and in return, he’ll delete 5 pictures.
Reluctantly, I oblige, and he deletes the photos right before my eyes. All of this because of that damn USB stick he brought with his tablet today, because he had broughthis tablet today with that cursed USB stick that made me mention it in my bedtime prayer, hoping for the heavens to crack open and send a lightning bolt right onto Manasseh's desk, melting that damn stick. But I'm not that lucky.
Once my homework is finally done, thoughts of Sami fill my mind, so I text him under the pretense that he left his clothes at my place, and that I secretly washed and dried them. My heart races as I see his response. He suggests meeting at the usual spot in the little park nearby, so I race through my classes, rush home to eat and finish my homework and help my mom. I head out, and then hurry out to meet him before dusk.
“I even ironed them.”
I was nervous because I didn’t know for sure if you iron a sweatshirt not. I don't want him to think I'm silly, so I quickly suppress the thought.
“There was no need,” he responds, sounding somewhat distracted.
An awkward silence settles between us, and I nervously kick the dust with my sneaker, searching for the right words to keep the conversation going.
“So, how did things go with your father today?” I finally manage to ask, lifting my gaze to study him.
Sami climbs onto the bench, perching on the table, resting his elbows on his knees. The fading sunset casts warm rays on his face, despite the hoodie that partially shields it. His long lashes flutter with each blink, and today, he looks more tired than usual, because Sami has that captivating, lazy gaze that sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach, with his slightly slouched shoulders and hands resting in the front pockets of his hoodie. Not to mention the dark circles under his eyes, but somehow, they fit him.
“I haven't spoken to him. It's too early, and the likelihood of him taking out his frustration on me is too high for me to return so soon,” he says, tearing a piece of grass from near the bench and tossing it randomly in front of him.
As I sit down on the bench next to him, I watch the blades of grass dance aimlessly in the air.
“So, where will you spend the night?”
“At a classmate's place.”
His reply should bring relief, but an unexpected pang of sadness washes over me instead.
“And is that okay?” I ask, inwardly gnawing on my cheek as I continue to look ahead.
“Why wouldn't it be?” I feel his gaze on me, and I gulp nervously.
Because you won't be sleeping at my place.
“I don't know. I just thought it might be weird to sleep at someone you don't know that well,” I force a smile, but Samael doesn't seem impressed.
“As well as... you?” He leans slightly forward, trying to catch a glimpse of my face hidden behind the strands of hair framing it.
