In the Air (The City Book 1)

The day flew by. Samson and I roamed the city for hours. My favorite part was when he showed me his park bench. It felt good having him share something so personal with me. We'd been shopping–Hugo Boss, Brooks Brothers, and now, Sephora, which I was quite happy about.

"Just because it's considered a cosmetics store, doesn't mean guys aren't allowed in."

Samson furrowed his brow but then began to laugh.

I raised my hand to the front of my mouth, faking a surprised look. "I had no idea guys went into the store. I thought they carried cologne strictly so girlfriends had something to buy their boyfriends."

"Well," he said playfully, placing his hand on the edge of my shoulder, "you're wrong."

"Fine. I'm wrong. Let's go get some wrinkle cream for all these laugh lines you're causing."

Samson dropped his arm back to his side and gave me his best brooding look. "You're a feisty one. Has anyone ever told you that, Natalia?"

Every time Samson said my name, the hair on the back of my neck rose. The way he pronounced the last syllable, the way his tongue hit the roof of his mouth so gently, it was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard. I restrained myself from grabbing him around the neck and pulling his lips to mine. I wanted to kiss him so badly.

The wind blew my hair across my face. Samson's finger lightly caressed my cheek, moving traces of hair out of the way. I peeked up at him, a grin now showing on his face. I stared at the sidewalk to keep a straight face.

"You're the first person that's ever called me that. I don't even know what feisty means." I began to laugh and pulled my messy hair into a ponytail.

"You're an awful liar. You can't even look at me while saying that."

"I can." My eyes followed the length of his body until they lingered on his face. His rounded jaw framed his oval face perfectly. His blue eyes stood out against his slightly tanned skin, which made his blonde hair appear lighter. "I don't even know–" I began laughing, unable to finish the rest of my sentence.

We laughed for at least five minutes. We'd stop, wipe our eyes from the tears, then look at each other and begin laughing again. When we finally calmed down, Samson wiped his eyes with both hands, and gazed up at the tall building in front of us. His long, black eyelashes easily touched his eyelids. I never understood why most guys were so lucky to have long eyelashes, while most girls had to curl them, glob on the mascara, and glue on the fake lashes just for them to appear voluptuous. If you ask me, girls really got the short end of the stick.

"What do you say we go into Sephora and then I'll let you buy me a coffee?" Samson asked playfully.

"Yeah, that sounds fair," I retorted, rolling my eyes.

Samson and I spent the next hour in Sephora, spraying each other with awful smelling perfume and colognes. He was convinced that my new scent should be a perfume made by Hello Kitty, saying it would go perfectly with my spirited personality. In reply, I sprayed him with Justin Bieber's perfume, which only ended up bothering my sense of smell more than his. By the time we left the store, Samson had picked up not one, but two bottles of his favorite cologne, Bond No. 9. I was astounded when I saw the cashier ring it up. People really paid hundreds to smell good when a bar of soap cost less than five dollars?

When we walked outside, the sun was low in the sky. As we continued down the street, neither of us said a word. I didn't want the day to end, but I wasn't sure if Samson felt the same way.

"There's this great Italian restaurant nearby called Salumeria Rosi, if you want to stop and grab some food before heading back." Samson stopped walking and reached for my elbow.

I looked at the face I had studied all afternoon. I had memorized each line, the mole that stood out under his right eye, and the way he quickly licked his lips before speaking.

"Like a date?"

"Like a getting-to-know-one-another type thing." This time, he licked his lips after he spoke.

"That's a great idea. It'll give me more material to make fun of you." I reached up to lightly slap his cheek, but Samson grabbed my hand.

"What's with the slapping?" His eyes widened as he dropped my hand, my skin tingling from the contact. "You're so violent."

"Can't take it?" I bit my bottom lip. Samson stared at my mouth with a wild look in his eyes.

"If we hadn't agreed to take things slow, I would kiss you senseless," Samson said earnestly, "right now, in the middle of this sidewalk, hoping everyone would stop and stare."

With that vision in my mind, I would have been okay if we were kissing in front of the whole world.





It was 9 P.M. and I had spent nearly the entire day with Natalia. When I dropped her off, there was a moment we lingered in her doorway. I didn't know if I should kiss her, hug her, or shake her hand. We had spent the day laughing, flirting, and accidentally touching each other. Our Sunday ended just the way I'd wanted it to: with a perfect kiss.

I entered my dark room, not surprised that Myers wasn't there. I put my shopping bags on top of my desk and strolled over to the window. Opening the oatmeal colored drapes, I stared out into the sky. The clouds were heavy, soon to open up and drench the city. My phone, still in the pocket of my jeans, vibrated. It was my mother and I knew why she was calling.

"Hello?" I asked, drained from the adventurous day.

"Hi, my baby boy. How are you?"

Hearing my mother's voice put a smile on my face. "I'm good. I just got back into my dorm room. I was out most of the day." I left out what I'd been doing. It was too soon to tell her about Natalia.

"I got a call from Aubrey."

I knew at that moment that Aubrey had told my mother everything. She probably twisted it around, blaming me for everything.

"Before you say anything else, know that it was going to happen sooner or later." My voice was harsher than I wanted it to be, but I needed her to understand.

"This is bad. You and Aubrey have had years together. You can't just throw something like that away, love." My mother's voice remained soft, not wanting to rile me up.

"We did have years together, and now it's time to move on. You know, just as much as I do, that she's changed. She's not the same girl."

"She's just going through a phase. You know that."

My parents continued to believe that she was the same sweet girl from down the road; the one who would leave love letters for me on our porch every Sunday.

"Mom, it's done," I said with certainty. My stomach wrenched. I knew I'd always miss the she used to be. I heard my mom sniffle into the receiver.

"I just don't understand why you're ending a relationship that's been important to you. It breaks my heart knowing that I'll never see you two married with your own children someday. Sammy, please tell me that you'll consider working on things with her."

I hated letting my mother down. I'd avoided it my entire life, sometimes going along with whatever she wanted just to make her happy, but I was past that.

"It's not going to happen. I'm moving on and so should she."

Silence. My mother stayed quiet for awhile before I heard her delicate voice again.

"I love you very much. If this is what you've decided, then I'll stand by you." She continued to sniffle. "Your father won't be happy about this at all, but I'll talk to him and hopefully calm him down. Will you be coming home anytime soon?"

It was nice to know that at least one parent missed me while I was away.

"I'll visit soon. We can go out to brunch, like old times." Growing up, my mother and I would go out for brunch every Saturday, leaving my sullen father at home. It was our one day together, and we'd order the type of food you'd never find in our own refrigerator. It had always my favorite part of the week.

"I'd love that. You take care, sweetie. Call me if you need anything, and," she paused, "if Aubrey tries to call you, please don't ignore her. She's hurting."

"I love you, Mom."

I hung up my phone and placed it on the edge of my desk. Just as I was about to lay down in bed, I heard a knock on the door. Two more knocks. I opened my door and saw Aubrey sitting on the ground. Her face was pale. Her makeup had worn off, the mascara smeared under her eyes. She looked up at me and began to sob. Instinctually, I knelt down and put my arms around her, rocking her back and forth. We stayed that way for a few minutes, until Aubrey lifted her face to mine, moving in to kiss me.

"Aubrey, no." I placed my hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. "What are you doing here?"

"Did your mom call you?" Her voice was so faint, I could barely understand her.

"Yes." I knew Aubrey wanted to hear that I talked to my mother and changed my mind. When she realized I hadn't, she began sobbing again. "Aubs, please stop crying," I rubbed her arms, hoping to calm her down. People passed through the hallway, turning to look at the commotion.

"Don't give up on us. I'm so sorry, Sam."

"Come on," I said, lifting her from the ground. "Let's go into my room where we can talk privately."

Aubrey stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes. She sat on the edge of my bed, her elbows on her knees, and I bent down in front of her.

"Why are you still in town, Aubrey?"

"I can't imagine my life without you. I don't want to live without you. Please, Samson, please take me back."

It had been a long time since I'd seen Aubrey this vulnerable. For the past year, her outer shell was so thick, it would have taken a bulldozer to tear it down.

"Aubrey, I don't know what to say."

She stared down at me, not saying a word. Her face portrayed everything she was feeling: anger, abandonment, heartbreak. Aubrey suddenly stood up, heading for the door.

"Wait," I called out.

She stopped, her hand on the doorknob.

"I don't know if we can be friends, Aubrey. I don't know what will happen. I do know there are going to be times where it will be awkward to be around one another, but our families are best friends. It will be impossible to avoid each other. Let's at least try and be civil to each other."

"That's impossible. You've ripped my heart out and shown no remorse, Samson." Tears ran down her cheeks and she swiped them away with the back of her hand.

"What do you want me to do, Aubrey? Do you want me to stay with you for the rest of my life, even if I'm unhappy? We're not happy together. You deserve better than that." I stood up and walked to the door.

"Did you ever love me?" She looked up at me.

"You're the only girl I've ever loved. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you running across my lawn in your ruffled, pink dress. I remember that moment like it was yesterday. Aubrey, I'll always love you, just not in the same way."

A tear fell from her eye and she didn't lift her hand to wipe it away. I caught the tear with my finger, keeping my hand pressed softly against her cheek.

"Goodbye, Samson."

Her goodbye was final. She walked out of my room without turning back.

I lay in my bed, my room filled with darkness. My cell phone vibrated on my nightstand, bringing me out of my daze.

"I'm happy we had this day. Thank you for sharing it with me."

I shared the feeling with Natalia, but it wasn't enough to shake the sadness.





It was Monday morning and my body refused to uncoil itself from the warm blankets. My alarm was going off. I was excited to get to class and see Samson. We had such a fantastic day yesterday. I don't think I'd smiled that much since my dad was around. Samson never answered the text I'd sent him last night. Maybe he had fallen asleep.

After my shower, I put on black leggings and an oversized Ramones T-shirt. As I was brushing out my hair, the door swung open, and in walked Kingsley. Her hair looked as if she had stuck her finger in a socket.

"What happened to you?" I asked, motioning to her hair.

"This would be called just-got-f*cked hair." She threw off her heels and sauntered over to her closet.

"Who was the victim this time?" I snarked.

She turned around and threw a hanger at me, missing my face by an inch.

"Geez, I'm just kidding! If you were just f*cked, shouldn't you be in a better mood?"

"I'm in a fantastic mood, actually." She peeled off her skinny jeans and tossed them into the corner. "How was your night, Sandra Dee?"

"Sandra Dee? Really?" I glared at Kingsley.

"She was very ... virginal. You remind me of her. Well, up until she went all boy crazy over Moondoggie."

I threw the same hanger back at her, hitting the side of her arm. While I waited for Kingsley to finish getting ready for class, I scrolled through my phone, looking for any signs of a missed text from Samson. None.

Kingsley and I walked into the hallway, grabbing the open elevator just before it closed.

"Aren't you going to tell me about your night?" Kingsley asked.

I shushed her, wanting to wait until we were alone. She rolled her eyes in response. Before we even noticed the elevator stopping on the twenty-first floor, the doors opened, and in walked Samson. He looked much more put together than he did yesterday. His hair was impeccable, brushed smoothly on each side. I didn't understand why he took any time doing his hair each morning when we'd be endlessly sweating in class anyway.

I'd never seen anyone look as good in a Smiths T-shirt as he did. It was nice seeing Samson out of his immaculate wardrobe and in something more freeing. Without his usual tie, he looked like an actual eighteen-year-old. When he saw that Kingsley and I were standing in the elevator, he smiled.

"Good morning," he said as his hand touched my lower back. He ignored Kingsley.

She grunted. "What a shame, Natalia. Now you can't tell me about the hot sex you had over the summer."

I glared at her and then turned and smiled at Samson, hoping he didn't believe a word she said.

"It's okay, I know she's lying. I can't imagine her ever being truthful."

I cut in before the conversation got worse. "Both of you, stop." I fixed my stare on each of them, hoping they'd understand I was sick of their constant bickering.

"How was the rest of your night?" Samson whispered.

"It was fine. Just caught up on some studying and talked to my mom. That's always a good time," I said sarcastically. "What about yours?"

Kingsley interrupted our conversation by clearing her throat.

As soon as the elevator arrived on sixteenth-floor, she shot off like a rocketship, rushing ahead of us. I ignored her bad manners and laughed.

"So, how was your night?" I repeated my question.

"It was ... interesting," he answered obscurely. "Aubrey showed up."

I stopped walking. He was about to tell me they were back together and that the entire day we spent together meant nothing. Samson turned around when he noticed I wasn't by his side.

"That's why you didn't answer," I speculated.

"There's a lot running through my mind right now. We're already running late. Let's get to class and we can talk later."

Samson took my hand and lightly rubbed the inside of my wrist. I imagined Samson with Aubrey, lying on his bed, laughing. It hurt me to think of them together.

"Can you just tell me now?" I couldn't handle waiting the entire class to find out what happened between them.

"Natalia, I'm not back together with Aubrey, if that's what you're getting at. I'd just like to talk to you and explain what I'm feeling. Can we please just go to class and talk about this later?" His tone was assertive, not leaving much room for a rebuttal.

I dodged his stance, walking around him to the doors of the classroom. If he wanted to have a chat later, that was fine, but for now, I didn't want to talk to him. I heard Samson calling after me, but I ignored him and continued walking. Madame Dampier was standing at the front of the room, talking with another student as I entered. I found Kingsley and stood next to her. When she saw the look on my face, she gave me her full attention.

"What's wrong?"

Her concern surprised me. "Samson."

My one word answer satisfied her curiosity. He walked to the front of the room, looking back at me to study my face.

Madame Dampier shut the door and asked for participation from two students. Samson swiftly raised his hand, Madame Dampier nodding in his direction. She chose a girl who I'd noticed last week. Her jet-black hair was pulled into a neat bun on top of her head. She was shorter than me, and her black leotard looked gorgeous against her hazelnut-colored skin. Her black pointe shoes gracefully moved across the floor. Samson looked over at her and smiled. I couldn't figure out what type of smile he gave her. Was it a nice-to-meet you smile? Was it a flirty smile? Oh, geez. I shouldn't care what kind of smile it is.

Madame Dampier directed the girl and Samson to stand in the center of the room, while the other students remained in back. The girl stood there with her feet in first position. Her posture was beautifully poised, and I was jealous the moment Samson's arm wrapped around her waist.

"Samson and Avery, I'm very happy you two participated." Madame Dampier gave them a tight-lipped smile and turned her attention to the class. "Samson is an excellent partner and I'd like the men in this room to study his strength. As for the girls, watch Avery. See how trusting she is with her body." She turned back to them. "I'm going to assume you two know the basics of the Pas de Deux routine from The Nutcracker?"

They nodded their heads in unison. I know that dance too, Avery, and I'm probably better at it than you.

"Samson, please show us the first thing you should do in this dance," she requested.

"I would offer Avery my hand." Samson reached his right hand out to take hers and Avery stepped forward with her left foot, giving Samson her left hand. "Now her arm will extend and remain at chest level." While standing on pointe, Avery's arm extended, illustrating beautiful lines. "Once she reaches full extension, I step into her and rotate our hands around her head," Samson slowly spun Avery around, interpreting the move perfectly. "Her hand will now come down onto the top of my shoulder, and my left arm will stretch up and out to the side."

Avery's leg lifts were excellent, making me doubt my own talent. They looked great together, and I hoped Samson wasn't wishing he had her as a partner instead.

"Perfection." Madame Dampier ordered the class to practice what was demonstrated with their own partners.

When Samson walked to the back of the room, I exhaled, trying my best to remain professional while here.

"How'd I do?" he asked lightheartedly.

"Let's just get this over with." I stood in front of him, my feet in position. When his arm reached out for my hand, I wanted to swat it away, but knew the teacher's eyes were roaming the room. I am a skilled ballet dancer. I don't let anything hold me back, I silently repeated to myself. Our hands joined and I felt the sudden familiar heat rise in my body.

"Natalia, I don't know what you're mad about. I'm sure whatever you've imagined is wrong." We continued on with the Pas de Deux, repeating the steps each time.

"Whatever happened is none of my business." He twirled me around. "I hope you two had a good night together."

Before I had the chance to mount my hand on his shoulder, he dropped his position and pulled me into this chest.

"Stop it." Irritation showed on his face. "You automatically think the worst before I have a chance to explain. Is it because you don't want to know the truth?"

"It's because you don't tell the truth!" We were the only two not dancing in the class, and I was sure Madame Dampier would be outraged if she spotted us. "Can we please just continue this simple routine? I'd rather not get in trouble," I insisted.

"This is ridiculous," Samson gently pushed me away, shaking his head. "I don't need this." He began walking away, but I stopped him.

"Don't make a scene," I demanded.

"You care so much about what everyone thinks, don't you? Could you ever be happy knowing that people weren't happy with you?"

With Samson's accurate analysis, I let him go.

He walked to the front of the class, whispering something to Madame Dampier, before grabbing his gym bag and leaving the room. I looked over at Kingsley, her face filled with confusion. I acknowledged by lifting my shoulders. A deep-rooted pang grasped my stomach. Maybe I was being too dramatic. Like Samson said, I didn't even allow him to explain. I was used to being played, and Samson might have been different, but I was too stubborn to believe it.

I might have just ruined our chances.