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18. Us?
“You don’t want me?” I questioned, sticking out my bottom lip and playing innocent. I still wasn’t sure what had gotten into me, but I felt a primal desire within my soul. “That’s the problem....I want you so f*****g bad right now,” he muttered, closing his eyes, “But I can’t do that to Nico. I’m sorry.” Sam pulled away from me, looking as if it caused him physical pain to create that distance. The embarrassment I felt in that moment was unreal. I can imagine it felt pretty similar to the moment in Carrie where they douse her with the fake blood up on stage. I crawled off of him, wishing that I could just go home and forget about all of this. Or that the couch could swallow me whole. That was more realistic right now. The sounds of loud crashing broke me from my self-pity. Sam wa
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