Page 34 of The Spirit of Love
I try to picture it—curled up at a corner table at Gjelina, ordering too much pizza and wine. Bringing Sam as my plus-one to theZombie Hospitaldinner at the Malibu home of the president of CBS. Making my on-set trailer rock. Brunch at my sister’s house in Silver Lake. Dancing with him at Olivia and Jake’s wedding later this month. Sam in my bed and my shower. Sam on my roof deck, squinting through power cables at the stars.
“Maybe,” he says. His eyes aren’t on me, and his voice sounds distant.
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Or, yeah, maybe it’s easier if I just come back here.”
He grins. “Hey! We already know it works!”
“Right.”
I feel my brows furrow, but I try not to read too much into this. After all, how many times does Sam have to say he wants me before I let myself believe it?
“We should swap numbers,” I say. “I can’t believe we haven’t done that yet. I actually can’t remember the last time I hung out with a guy who I hadn’t texted with for days or weeks before we ever met in person. Modern romance, right?”
Sam looks away and keeps rowing. “I don’t really do the phone. You know where to find me.”
“Okay…” I blink in surprise, hurt. I turn toward the ferry, which looms up ahead. I feel embarrassed and want to be onboard it more than I thought possible twenty seconds ago.
Have I been wrong about this weekend? Is my reality askew? I consider that I never saw him with a phone this weekend. Is it possible he doesn’t have one? Of course he has a phone.
“And Fenny?” he says. “Please do.”
“Please do what?”
“Find me. Again.”
Our bow touches the beach in the harbor where the ferry is already loading passengers. It’s time to go. And I don’t want to go, not with the awkward taste of this conversation in my mouth.
Sam climbs out and drags the canoe farther up onto thebeach. I grab my backpack and stumble clumsily onto the sand. “Thanks for the ride—”
But his mouth is on mine before I can finish. His hands are in my hair, and his tongue is searching for mine. His lips remind me of the tide, steady and yet surprising with the intensity of their pull. I kiss him back, surrendering completely to how aroused this man can make me in a second. I’d do anything for one more time with him.
The ferry horn blasts.
Anything but miss the last boat home and my chance to direct tomorrow. I’m weak in the knees as I pull away.
“Is it just me, or is it seven thousand degrees out there?” I gasp.
“You could come back,” Sam says, like a man leaving for war. “You might.”
It doesn’t need to be this melodramatic. We could simply swap numbers and sext for a month like normal people until one of us says,Hey, I bought a ferry ticket. Let’s low-key hang.
Only that doesn’t seem like something Sam wants to do. And now the loudspeaker at the terminal exclaims that it’s last call for anyone who needs to reach the mainland tonight.
Time’s up.
“Last chance to stay forever,” Sam whispers in my ear.
“Bye, Sam.”
“Bye, Fenny.” He nods.
I nod back like this isn’t agony. Saying goodbye for a day would be hard enough—but not knowing if or when I’ll ever see him again, or why he refuses to give me his number…it’s a form of torture I’ve never known.
But what can I do about it? Other than rush onto the ferry, which is so packed with tourists that there’s not a single seat left. I can’t even get near a window to take a final look, to prove to myself that Sam, and this whole weekend, wasn’t just adream.
PartTwo
Chapter Nine
