He turned his head, looked at it, and smiled. “That’s awesome,” he said. “The best one yet.” He squinted down at his arm. “Is that a bear?”
“Um,” I said. It didn’t seem like such a great sign that he had to ask this. “It’s supposed to be.”
“I love it,” he said. “It’s great.” He looked at me for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed me. After hesitating for just a second, I kissed him back, and I felt the Sharpie fall from my hand. He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me.
“Whoa.” I pulled away and sat up slightly, seeing Sam standing in the doorway of the TV room, a sour expression on his face. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Didn’t see you there,” Gideon said, sitting up straighter, his face flushed red.
“Clearly,” Sam said, with one of his smiles that never seemed to have all that much humor in it.
“Where’s Sloane?” I asked, looking behind him, but not seeing my best friend.
“Kitchen,” he said with a shrug, like it didn’t concern him all that much. He nodded at the TV. “We watching this?”
“Sure,” I said, moving closer to Gideon to make some more room on the couch. Sam crossed to sit against one end of it, grabbed the remote and pointed it at the TV just as Gideon picked up his phone, resting on the coffee table, and groaned.
“I have to go,” he said quietly to me as he set the phone back down. “Curfew.” I had never been to Gideon’s house or met his parents, but from the little he’d told me, I had gotten the distinct impression that they were very strict. His curfew was a full two hours earlier than mine. I nodded, and he leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, while I felt Sam watching us. “Call you tomorrow,” he said, pushing himself up off the couch. He and Sam did the thing they always did—it was half a high-five and half a handshake. “Say good-bye to Sloane for me?” he asked as he headed toward the front door, and I nodded.
“Sure thing,” I said. He smiled at me, and a moment later, I heard the door slam and the sound of his car engine starting up.
“You know,” Sam said from his side of the couch. I suddenly wished I could move to sit at the other end of it—or even leave the couch entirely—without it being incredibly obvious that I wanted to get away from him. “I think that was directed to me.”
I just looked at him for a moment. “What was?”
“When he asked about saying good-bye to Sloane. I think that was to me, not you.”
“Oh,” I said. I couldn’t believe that this mattered to him, but apparently it did. “Um, sorry about that.” I glanced back toward the kitchen, wondering if my best friend needed me. I was actually feeling a little uncomfortable about it being the three of us here; I usually left around the same time Gideon did. “I think I’ll go find Sloane,” I said, starting to get up.
“And leave me all alone?” Sam asked. If he’d been smiling, or joking, I might have laughed at this, but he was just looking at me, his face serious.
“Ha,” I said, glancing back to the kitchen again. I knew I should just get up, go find Sloane, and tell her good-bye.
“So you and Gideon are getting close,” he said, moving a little nearer to me on the couch.
“I guess so,” I said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. And Sam moved closer still, his expression almost carefully blank, like he knew he was making me nervous, and he liked it.
Sam leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You want to know what he told me about you?”
“I really don’t,” I said, forcing a laugh that even I could hear fell flat. “Want to watch the movie?”
“Nope,” Sam said, still looking right at me. “We should be friends, Emily.”
“We are,” I said lightly, just wanting this strange exchange to be over as quickly as possible. It was underscoring for me that I was never alone with Sam; I was beginning to realize that I preferred it that way.
“Really?” he asked, leaning even closer to me.
Two things happened then, very quickly, the kind of quick where you don’t have time to think anything through, you just react and hope for the best. Sam leaned in to kiss me and I saw Sloane rounding the corner, coming in from the kitchen, carrying two glasses in her hands.
And I could have just ducked or turned away from Sam. But I didn’t. I let him kiss me, and I waited just a second more before I broke away, pushed him away from me and said, loudly, “What are you doing?”
There was the sound of glass breaking, and I looked over to see Sloane, her blue eyes wide, shattered glass at her feet and what looked like Coke spilling onto her shoes, the new white pony-skin ones she’d saved a month to buy.
Sam’s head snapped around, and he looked from Sloane to me, shaking his head. “It isn’t . . . ,” he said, talking fast, his voice high. “Emily was totally throwing herself at me after Gideon left, and . . .”
Sloane looked at me, like she was looking for the answer. I looked right back at her and shook my head. There was a fraction of a second where I wondered if she would pick Sam, his version of things, their three months over our two years. But this worry faded when I saw in her eyes how completely she believed me. “Em, would you mind waiting by the car?” she asked, her voice quiet and breaking. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”
I nodded, scrambled to my feet, and grabbed my purse. As I headed to the front door, I saw that Sam’s expression was equal parts shocked and angry. “Wait, you don’t even believe me?” he asked, his voice rising.
“Nope,” I heard Sloane say, still quiet, before I stepped out into the night and pulled the door shut behind me.
I just stood on the Welcome, Friends! mat for a moment, trying to put everything that had just happened into some kind of order. Deep down, I knew I could have stopped it. But if Sam was going to try and kiss me anyway, shouldn’t Sloane have seen it? So she could finally see what kind of guy he was?
I knew I was justifying something that I shouldn’t have done, but before I could continue to talk myself into it, an SUV pulled into the driveway. Through the windshield, I recognized Gideon, who was already smiling at me as he killed the engine and got out of the car. I walked down Sam’s front steps and over to my car, and we met halfway.