Sam

Sam was in much better spirits after her shopping trip with Devon. He helped her bring all her bags in and promised he’d call Coach Tomlin right away before he left to go join her father in Henry’s office. They apparently had been texting Devon about urgent business matters while he was chauffeuring Sam around Dublin. She apologized for keeping him, but he said she was currently his favorite brand of procrastination.

She busied herself setting up her new room. Just because she had to live in a dusty old castle didn’t mean it had to feel like one. Cara had expressly told her to make herself at home that night at dinner—which ended up being just the two of them—awkward.

Sam didn’t waste any time settling in. She switched out the heavy red and gold embroidered comforter for the fluffy white one she bought at Brown Thomas, and replaced the millions of ornate pillows with some new simple ones that she wasn’t afraid to lay on. They were all various shades of white or off-white. She bought a couple of those faux white fur rugs too and laid them around the room. Then, she strung the curtain of fairy lights she’d bought on the underside of the canopy above the bed. She lay on her back admiring them—her very own starry night sky. It really helped brighten the place up. She’d done the same thing in her old room in Boston, and it made her homesick.

She sighed and decided to keep going until the transformation from castle to teen suite was complete. Sam set up her new Keurig coffee maker so she could at least enjoy coffee in the mornings. She’d been unable to find Pop-Tarts while shopping, but Devon had turned her on to his favorite breakfast bars, so she’d loaded up on them in the strawberry variety. After Sam finished setting up her vanity and desk she sat back on her bed to survey her work. It wasn’t home, but it was getting better. The walls were still bare, but Sam liked the soft stone gray color. And adding the new white bedding she’d bought made the bedroom feel more familiar.

It was late by the time Sam finished sorting her new wardrobe. She collapsed onto her inviting bed to call Megan and fill her in on her day. But to her dismay, Megan didn’t answer. Sam glanced at the time. It wasn’t late in Boston. Maybe Megan was eating dinner? Or still at drama club? Sam couldn’t keep track. Damn time zones. She checked her emails, then Snapchat and Instagram. After exhausting all her options, she shut her laptop and lay back on her bed. She was tired, but her mind was still buzzing for some reason. It was probably jetlag or something.

She found her mind wandering to Devon. She wondered what he was doing right now? She was strangely disappointed that he hadn’t shown up for dinner. Her father had probably dragged him into his computer geek vortex—a place where time didn’t exist.

Sam actually felt bad for Devon. He didn’t look like the stereotypical nerds her father normally worked with. She snorted. Devon probably couldn’t be further from computer geek if he tried. He oozed European soccer-god—a fact that Sam sort of hated. Soccer boys were her weakness. Especially cute soccer boys.

She picked up her phone, thinking about texting him. But when she saw the text she sent him earlier glaring back at her—the one with all the friend rules—she thought texting your friend in the middle of the night probably wasn’t a good idea. She hopped in the shower instead, eager to try out her new hair products. But even the scent of grapefruit couldn’t wash Devon from her thoughts. Damn him and his sexy soccer-god body.

Sam slipped into her new pajamas—a stretchy white tank top and gray drawstring bottoms. Goodbye ugly nightgown! She was plugging her cell phone in when a text came through. Her heart skipped when she realized it was from Devon.

DEVON: Hey Sam, what’s the rule on friends visiting each other’s bedrooms at night?

Sam’s face flushed scarlet and she felt her blood rush to embarrassing places. Devon was right across the hall. If she said yes, he could be in her room in six seconds. Maybe less—his soccer-god body looked like it could move fast. Shit! Now she was thinking about his body again. This definitely was a bad idea. Today had been fun. Like, real, actual fun. She hated admitting that Devon was right—she did need a friend. And she hated admitting Megan was right—Devon was sexy and charming. But most of all she hated how scared she was of screwing everything up. How had this happened? She was losing focus already. Getting back to Boston was the only thing that mattered, and now because she was being a stupid girl and having stupid feelings, she was risking screwing it all up. She couldn’t let herself get attached to Devon. Inviting him to her room would only complicate things.

Sam grabbed her phone and tapped out a reply.

SAM: Rule #4: Friends definitely don’t booty call.

DEVON: Rules were meant to be broken.

A tingle of fear jolted Sam to her feet. She ran to her bedroom door and locked it. Then, she shut off her lights and hopped into bed, like a little kid afraid of the man in the moon. In Sam’s case, the man was Devon, and the moon was her big fat beating heart.

Devon

Devon sat in his room staring at his cell phone, but Sam didn’t respond. Damn him for getting his hopes up.

What did he expect? Sam to run into his room and jump into his open arms?

He’d dreamed it enough times that he could imagine exactly what it would be like. And thanks to her little shopping spree, he now knew exactly what lingerie she’d be wearing. And he couldn’t stop imagining all the ways he’d take it off of her.

Awake or in dreams, Devon’s mind drifted back to Sam. In his dreams, he told her he loved her and she said she’d never leave him. Then, they fell into his bed together.

“Get a grip,” Devon scolded himself.

He paced his room while Eggsy stared at him lazily from bed. “Don’t look at me like that,” Devon berated the dog.

Eggsy was giving him that, You’re not going to do anything about it, look.

“Maybe I will,” Devon retorted, realizing he sounded daft, carrying on a one-sided conversation with his dog.

He opened his door and peered into the hallway. There was Sam’s door, taunting him. He could do it. Just a few short steps across the hall and knock on her door. Screw knocking. Maybe he’d just go in and surprise her. Christ, he could imagine her lying in her bed waiting for him in a pair of those lacey knickers she’d bought.

Fuck! She’d scrambled his brain. He was thinking with the wrong head. He couldn’t just go charging into her room. She didn’t want him to come or she would have said so. Her text was a hard no. And it was driving Devon mad, because the more she said no, the more he wanted her. But deep down, he knew he needed to wait until he could win her over. He’d never force himself on her. He wasn’t the aggressive type, unlike half the blokes on his team.

The other thing eating at Devon was that today had been the best day he’d had in a year. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled or laughed so much. Just being near Sam made everything better. And the last thing Devon wanted to do was muck it up because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. He needed to play it cool. He’d rather be Sam’s friend, than nothing at all.