But because my hair was down and falling around my shoulders in messy, curly waves and I remembered something about last night that I forgot.
I remembered getting into telling Sam the story of Kyle and his buddies taking me and Paula (who had been my friend since high school) to our first kegger whereupon me and Paula got totally hammered and when they brought us home, both Paula and I hurled in Mom and Dad’s backyard, causing Kyle and his buddies to tell us repeatedly, loudly and without any hope of success to be quiet which resulted in Mom and Dad catching us. I was giggling at this, Sam was smiling at it and throughout telling him the story, his fingers were working in my hair, pulling out the pins.
It felt nice then and, staring at myself in the mirror, it felt nice remembering it.
But it was more.
After I finished that story by sharing with Sam that Mom and Dad had forced Kyle and his buddies to apologize in person to Paula’s parents and then mow their yard free for the summer as penance, Sam shared with me the story of the first time his brother called him when he was hammered to ask Sam to come pick him up. Sam did but Ben hadn’t shared that it was not only Ben who was hammered, his girlfriend and her three friends were with him and also needed rides home. They were not hammered but completely shitfaced and Sam unwisely loaded them all into his car whereupon three of the four females and Ben hurled in his car and he had to sell it because he could never get rid of the smell.
And while he was telling me this and I was giggling, he was running his fingers through my hair.
That felt nicer and, staring at myself in the mirror, it settled in my soul how much nicer it felt not only last night but right then, remembering it.
Okay. I was either seriously in trouble or…
I was seriously not.
I stared into my eyes in the mirror and as I did I found my lips whispering, “Fearless.”
Then I pulled in a breath, turned from the mirror, switched off the light and exited the bathroom, moving to the double, arched, windowed doors with their gossamer curtains, my eyes on a still sleeping, still beautiful Sam.
I got to the doors and opened them, stepping out on the small, stone balcony, the curtain falling behind me and I drank in the view.
Wherever you are, however you got there, if it’s good, you’re meant to be there either because you earned it or life led you there and you were smart enough to hold on.
Sam’s words came back to me and no longer drunk on champagne or the beauty of being held in his arms, I realized that Sampson Cooper was a great many things, nearly all of them good but one of them was wise.
On this thought, two arms closed around me from behind and I was pulled into a long, hard body as a stubbled chin swept my hair from the side of my neck right before lips whispered there, “Mornin’, baby.”
Those two words slid over my skin, coating it, again giving me a glorious moment of feeling invincible.
Wherever you are, however you got there, if it’s good, you’re meant to be there either because you earned it or life led you there and you were smart enough to hold on.
I closed my eyes.
Then I whispered back, “Morning.”
Sam’s arms turned me to facing him, I opened my eyes then his body pressed mine into the balustrade as I tipped my head back to look at him and see his eyes were already moving over me.
Then they came to mine and he whispered, “Right now, honey, I’m gonna kiss you.”
My stomach clutched.
Oh God.
Okay. Oh God. All right.
I was supposed to be fearless but right then, I… was… not.
“Sam –” I started but his head dropped until his lips were light on mine and I shut up.
“No,” he said quietly, his lips moving against my lips, my heart stopped beating and his voice dropped super low, super rough, it was rich velvet when he went on. “No, baby, you fell asleep before I could taste this mouth. I’m not gonna miss another chance.”
Then he slanted his head and kissed me.
I instantly freaked out.
This was not because Sampson Cooper, my fantasy man obsession was kissing me. Sam had become way more than just that, he wasn’t even close to that anymore.
This was because, except for a couple of guys in high school and some other guys who didn’t count during spin the bottle at parties in junior high, I had kissed no one but Cooter. I grew not to like the way he kissed then I grew not to want him to kiss me and I learned quickly that if I didn’t kiss him back in a way he’d like, he’d give up trying.
So I didn’t know if I even knew how to kiss. I’d forgotten or never really learned.
And I needed at that moment in my life not only to be able to do it but to be able to do it really, really well.
And needing it and freaking out about it, my head filled with garbage and I blew it.
I knew it by feeling it and I knew it when Sam’s mouth broke from mine, his head came up, I opened my eyes and saw his, for the first time since I met him, were guarded.
Oh God.
Oh God!
Sam had just kissed me, it was awful and it was also all my fault.