Sam

One pint turned into three as Devon filled Sam in on everything she’d missed in the past nine years. It turned out they had a lot in common. Soccer, no mothers (apparently Devon’s left when he was eleven. She now lived in England and had a new family), work-obsessed fathers, and an obsession with sliders. They’d each polished off five of the delicious mini cheeseburgers and fries while they tried to out do each other in a game of my-life-sucks-worse-than-yours. Devon won hands down. And Sam couldn’t stop staring at the wave of dimples that rippled through his face every time he laughed at one of her sarcastic jokes.

“No! You don’t get any points in the ex-girlfriend column,” Sam argued. “She left you for your uncle! That goes in the family drama column.”

“Alright, but you don’t know how to drive and you’ve been wearing the same clothes for two days.”

“Hey!” she argued. “Neither of those are my fault. Which by the way, you’re supposed to take me shopping for real clothes.”

“I will, just as soon as you wipe the ketchup off your face.”

“Oh my God! How long have I had food on my face, you jerk?” Sam self-consciously wiped her face with a napkin.

“You missed a spot.” Devon swiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb, then licked his finger clean.

Sam felt her mouth go dry watching him. “Foul!” she cried when she found her voice.

“What’s wrong now?”

“Friends don’t lick food off each other.”

Devon glowed with laughter. “I didn’t think they called each other baby cakes and kitten while playing grab ass either, but I’m game if you are.”

“That was a special circumstance. It falls under, friends have each other’s backs.”

“There sure are a lot of rules to this friendship,” Devon teased.

“Yeah, just remember the first one and we’ll be okay.”

“Friends don’t kiss friends, I got it.”

“Good, now take me shopping.”

“Anything for you, kitten.”

* * *

Sam dragged Devon up and down the multiple floors of Brown Thomas, her favorite department store in Dublin. She was grabbing everything from makeup to socks. She had a wardrobe to replace and was all-too-happy to put it on her father’s bill. It was the least he could do after uprooting her entire life.

Devon was being a pretty good sport. He actually seemed to be having a great time picking on her fashion choices.

“Blimey, could you look more American?” he teased when Sam picked out a pair of converse.

“What’s wrong with these?”

“Maybe nothing in Boston.”

“Alright, Tim Gunn. What kind of shoes do the fairest Irish lasses wear?”

“Try these,” he said pointing to a pair of uncomfortable-looking brown oxford loafers.

“Ew! They’re hideous.”

“They’re European.”

“They look like boy shoes.”

“No, they look posh. Unlike whatever these travesties are,” he said scuffing the toe of her Uggs with his own sophisticated oxford loafers. They did look really classy on him, actually.

“Fine, but I don’t want plain brown ones.”

“How about these?” Devon offered, pulling down a pair of blue suede oxfords with tiny silver studs all over them.

“Oh! They look like stars,” she exclaimed running her fingers over the studs.

“You have a thing for stars, huh?”

“Who doesn’t love stars?” she asked gazing at the display shoes. They were her size! She sat down and slipped them on. The soft leather was surprisingly comfortable and the studs caught the light, making the shoes remind Sam of the night sky, alive with stars. She loved them. “Okay, these will do.”

Devon smirked, triumphantly. “Now you’re a proper posh Dubliner.”

“Come on, we’re not done,” she said, unwilling to let him win that easily.

* * *

Sam dragged Devon to the lingerie department and went to work tormenting him. They were friends, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have fun, right?

“Here, hold these,” she said handing him an armful of lacey bras.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Devon whined.

“What? I need underwear,” she replied coyly.

“I know, but do I really have to help you with the girly stuff?”

“Well, I am a girl, you know? This is what happens when you’re friends with a girl. The girly stuff comes with it.”

“I know you’re a girl, but you can’t buy girly stuff like this in front of me,” he said holding up a see-through bra.

“Why not?”

“Because, that’s something you do with your boyfriend. Not your friend. And you clearly stated we’re just friends.”

“That’s right, but I said we’re friends that don’t kiss, not friends that don’t help each other shop for underwear.”

“Studies show underwear shopping leads to kissing,” Devon said in his most proper warning label voice.

Sam snorted. “Have you conducted these studies yourself?”

“I may have,” he replied, giving Sam a wolfish grin.

Damn! That was the kind of grin that could start forest fires—if forests were made of panties.

Get it together, Sam. You’re teasing him, not the other way around. “Well, I think you’re wrong,” she mused.

“Trust me on this, Sam. I’m not wrong. You’ll see.”

“What if you were my gay best friend? Then this wouldn’t lead to kissing.”

“I think we’ve established I’m not gay.”

“You’re right, you don’t dress sharp enough.”

“I do so! You’re the one dressed like an American.”

“Oh, overly sensitive about fashion critiques . . . maybe it’s too soon to rule out the gay best friend thing.”

“You’re impossible,” Devon muttered. “I’m beginning to see why you didn’t have any points in the boyfriend column.”

“Oh, shut up and hold these,” Sam said piling underwear into Devon’s arms. “And if you don’t behave I’ll model them for you.”

Devon looked like he was about to make a witty comeback when a girl called his name.

“Devon James?”

Sam and Devon turned their attention to a sales girl slinking toward them. She was about their age with a perfect figure and blonde hair in a pixie cut. Was every girl in Ireland adorable and blonde?

“A new girlfriend so soon?” blondie asked Devon.

“Hello, Tess,” Devon said politely. “This is my friend, Sam Connors.”

“Samantha,” Sam corrected.

“Right, sorry,” he added. “Samantha, this is Tess Jenkins. She’s in our year at Eddington.”

Tess gave Sam an unimpressed once over. “You’re going to Eddington?” she asked raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Sam wished she’d changed into something cute she’d bought, but she was still in her stupid old clothes.

“Yep. Nice to meet you.” Sam held her hand out and Tess took a step back with a huff, like the thought of shaking Sam’s hand was offensive.

Tess shook her head at them and gave them a sour look, as if she and Devon were ruining the pristine atmosphere of the department store. Without another word she turned and sashayed away.

“Wow! Eddington is seeming more and more like Stanton everyday.” Except Sam feared she was on the wrong side of the popular line here.

“Don’t worry about Tess. She’s Sophie’s best friend. She doesn’t have an original thought in her head.”

“Great, so now your ex’s fem-bot is going to report back that we were underwear shopping together! I don’t need to make enemies before I even start school, Devon.”

He laughed. “Too late for that. If you’re friends with me, you won’t be making any friends. But don’t worry. I’m just as untouchable as I am hated.”

Sam wasn’t comforted by that thought as she headed into the dressing room.

Devon

Devon tried to distract himself while he waited for Sam in the humiliating pink and gold chair outside the dressing room. But he was failing miserably. He was surrounded by women’s lingerie, and he knew at that very moment, Sam was trying on bits of lace and satin. It was making him sweat. He’d already stripped down to his t-shirt, but that didn’t seem to help, because his mind was still stripping Sam completely naked. The little minx! She knew exactly what she was doing to him.

He tried to keep his mind elsewhere, but Devon knew nothing short of seeing Sam in her knickers would stop the intoxicating visions that kept erupting in his mind like erotic fireworks. Sam in lace. Sam in silk. Sam in his arms. It was torture.

But he couldn’t leave. He was guarding her army of shopping bags. It baffled him how many things girls managed to need. If it were up to Devon, he’d live in his favorite red and white Arsenal jersey and a pair of faded jeans.

Sam finally emerged and paid for her unmentionables. Devon gave a sigh of relief when they were finally back in his Defender driving home. Shopping had worn him out. Okay, maybe it was all the fantasizing about Sam in lingerie that wore him out. He needed to think about something else. Anything else. Because in Devon’s mind, he and Sam were still rolling around in the sheets as he tore off the layers of skimpy underthings she’d bought.

“So,” he said. “I was thinking I could talk to Coach Tomlin for you. Maybe get a try out set up?”

“You would do that for me?” Sam asked, a hopeful grin illuminating her face.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Oh my God, Devon, I’d love that! Thank you,” she squealed and leaned over planting a light kiss on his cheek.

Shite! All the work he’d just done to stop thinking about sex had been instantly undone with a brush of Sam’s perfect lips. The inside of the car suddenly felt like the sun and Devon couldn’t contain his smile. “I told you underwear shopping leads to kissing.”

“What? That wasn’t a kiss.”

“A kiss is a kiss, Sam. You just broke friend rule number one.”

“That rule refers to kissing on the mouth.”

“There sure are a lot of specifics to your rules. Perhaps you should write them down for me.”

Sam whipped out her cell phone. “What’s your number?”

“First kissing, now asking for my number? I knew I’d like being friends with you.”

“Do you always have to be so narcissistic?”

“Do you always have to be so flirtatious?”

She rolled her eyes. “Number?”

“Fine.” Devon rattled off his phone number and Sam put it in her phone. She continued typing furiously.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting you.”

“Texting me what?”

“You’ll see.”

His phone buzzed with a message and he glanced at it while keeping one eye on the road.

SAM: Rule #1: Friends don’t kiss.

Rule #2: Friends don’t lick each other.

Rule #3: Friends don’t shop for underwear together.

Devon laughed and tossed his phone into the backseat. “That’s what I think of your rules.

Sophie

“What do you mean they were underwear shopping together?” Sophie practically shrieked into her cell phone.

“I’m sorry, Sophie,” Tess said. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I thought you should know.”

Sophie took a deep breath to steady herself. “Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Soph! He was following her around like a lap dog carrying her bras and knickers!”

“Well then, you know what this means,” Sophie growled into the phone. “Can I count on you?”

“Always,” Tess replied.

Sophie could practically hear Tess smirking through the phone. She smiled back. “See you at school, Tess.”

“Looking forward to it,” Tess replied.

Sophie hung up and threw her cell phone across the room.