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I was trying to believe it.
I wanted to.
I really fucking did.
But the look on Samara’s face was singing a much higher tune, festering a fear inside of me I didn’t like and couldn’t just sit back and ignore. Something was seriously wrong here.
And whatever it was, I was going to find out.
I waited until nightfall to make my move. Isaac was busy playing Call of Duty in my bedroom, and Phantom was currently on the phone with Sharkey conducting trial business. For hours I’d been doing nothing other than sitting on the couch binge-watching True Blood on Hulu and eating junk food to help keep my mind off of Samara, but whatever was bothering her had been gnawing at my brain all fucking day until it had become this burning itch that wouldn’t cease unless I got off my ass and actually did something about it. Was it a bad move? Probably. But I was doing this because I cared about her. She was hurting. With Ginger MIA, and then add in the shit Phantom found onher father, Samara needed someone in her corner. She shouldn’t be going through any of this bullshit alone.
I didn’t bother announcing my departure. I just got up, put on my shoes, and skittered out the door.
The trek to Samara’s dorm was peacefully quiet. As expected, the guards were on their posts when I checked, having given me brief nods of respect as I trotted on by them and approached the entrance to the girls dorms. I headed down the hall to the elevators, pressing the button to Samara’s floor once I was inside.
I was nervous. What happened between us in the shed was a hard subject to forget. I thought about it often, far more than I should, and had contemplated whether or not I’d made a huge mistake. She was amazing, the best pussy I ever had and tasted. Then again, she was my first, my real first, so I guess these intense feelings I was experiencing was to be expected, right?
Open the door.
Please open the door.
I made it there and just stood there for a minute, bringing my hand up to my mouth to do a quick breath check. It definitely didn’t smell like roses and petunias, and I could’ve seriously used a breath mint. Hopefully it wasn’t that bad for Samara to notice.
Movement shuffled behind the door. I was expecting to hear the locks click, and then a deep frown swept over me when I heard Samara’s voice holler for me to go away.
“Samara?” I shakily called out to her. “It-it’s me, Rhett.”
“I know. I’m staring at you through the peephole.”
“Oh.” I took a step back from the door, embarrassment flooding through me as I anxiously swiped my sweaty hands down my jeans.
“I just want to talk, Samara.”
“Is it about Ginger?”
“No,” I said sadly. “We haven’t heard anything.”
“Then there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Come on, Samara,” I begged, refusing to give up. “I’m worried about you. I want to know how you’re doing. How you’rereallydoing. You don’t have to go through this shit alone, you know? I’m here for you, if you’ll let me be.”
I heard her sigh behind the door. It grew quiet, and as I turned to walk away, thinking to myself that I gave it my best shot, I froze no sooner than I heard theclicks.
Samara opened the door, wearing a Motionless in White band tee and a tiny pair of shorts I suddenly craved to take off with my teeth as I took in her long legs and bare, slender thighs. Her long black hair cascaded wildly down her shoulders, and her blue eyes were wide as she stared up at me, a heavy storm brewing within them.
She said nothing and stepped to the side, waving for me to enter.
“Where’s Sky?” I asked.
“Not here. The stupid bitch tried to kill herself over Brian.”
My back stiffened as I spun on my heel, flummoxed. Samara nodded as she closed the door and locked the bottom lock.
“What? When?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it, Rhett. She’s not here and that’s all you need to know.”
“Is she okay?”
