Fearless (The Story of Samantha Smith #1) (20 page)

I filled a glass from the water jug in my fridge.

I joined him on the couch. “So. The car chase? You didn’t follow those guys, did you?”

“What? No way. I came straight here.”

“You did?”

“I figured this was the next logical place to find you, after Jake’s.”

“You waited for me?”

“Of course.” He threw back the water glass and downed all of it.

“Do you want some more?”

“Please.”

I got up and poured him another glass.

“Look, Samantha. About what I said. About the mentoring.” He swallowed more water.

“Yeah?” I said hopefully. All I wanted in that moment was for him to tell me he been wrong, that he could be my mentor
and
more.

“I meant it.”

Fuck. I jinxed myself.

“I was going to reiterate what I’ve already said. Samantha, you’re very talented at art. You don’t see it yet, but I do. You have more potential than you realize, and I don’t want anything to stop you from developing that.”

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his decision to make, but I kept my mouth shut.

“I’ve heard the way you grouse about accounting with Romeo. And how you envy Kamiko’s talent, yet she’s pre-med. I think you’re right about her. She could probably be a successful comic book artist.”

“Yeah, she’s amazing. I’d hate to see her throw away her talent because her parents wanted her to be a doctor.”

“Exactly. I feel the same way about you. You can be a successful artist, Samantha. I know it. You don’t have to be a comic artist like Kamiko, but there’s lots of options. I don’t want you to give up on your dreams, under any circumstances.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” He was being so supportive. What was I supposed to say? “Does this mean we can still be friends?”
 

“Always.”

“What if our friendship starts to develop into something, you know, more?” I asked hopefully.

He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to get distracted. If you and I, if we…if we have anything more than a strictly platonic mentor relationship, you’re not going to get anything done. I can’t let that happen.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Christos.”

He clenched his jaws and leaned his elbows on his knees. A black look shadowed his face. “You’re not getting it Samantha. It’s more than that.” He stood up abruptly and circled around the coffee table.
 

He started waving his arms, like he was making a case in front of a jury.

“I’m a bad influence, Samantha. I’m shitty all the way around. I have a tendency to fuck things up, even when I set out with the best intentions.”

Taylor.

“We all do, sometimes.” I consoled.

“The thing is, I know I can help you if I’m nothing more than a mentor. I’m confident I won’t fuck that up. Like teaching the kids at the library. I promised myself I would never let them down. Now, it turns out, maybe I have.”

“What do you mean?”

He stopped and looked me in the eyes. His jaw worked like he was considering something. “That’s another issue. Don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem.”

Okay, now I was scared. How did you let down a bunch of kids taking a free class at a library? You had to do something pretty bad. I shuddered and held my elbows. I was getting ahead of myself.

“I don’t want to let you down, Samantha. The mentoring thing I can do. For now. I know that. But beyond that, I can’t make you any promises. Trust me on this. Things will get messy down the road. I don’t want to drag you into the shit storm that is my life.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand.” From the outside, his life seemed pretty damn good to me. Most of the time he acted like he didn’t have a care in the world. Was it all an act?

“I can’t go into it.”

“Please, Christos. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t judge you.”

“I hope that’s true.” He stared at me for a long time. Desperation darkened his eyes. He turned away.

I could tell he was hurting. I stood up and went to him.

He turned away, hiding his face.

“Christos, look at me.” I reached up and placed my palm on his cheek and turned his eyes toward mine. “You can tell me anything.”

He was on the verge of tears. In that moment, he looked like a wounded child. What had happened to this poor boy?

“I have a whole lot of problems you know nothing about. I don’t want you getting dragged into them.”

“Like what?”
 

He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back tears. I couldn’t believe it. Christos never struck me as the type of man to cry. “Some serious shit.” He shook his head, like he was trying to make his problems go away, but he couldn’t. His face slowly hardened into tortured calmness, a restless attempt to force down tremendous pain. I knew the look from personal experience. Sometimes it mocked me from the mirror ten days out of ten.

“Forget about it,” he said in an even tone. “I want you focused on yourself. Your life can be better, even if mine is spun out.”

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him fiercely. “It’s okay, Christos. It’s okay.” I smelled his cologne, his skin, and his vulnerability. It was an intoxicating combination. My head spun.

He shook, as if the defenses he’d put up were falling again. Was it because his pain was too great to hold in? I could relate. Or was it something else?

I felt his hand cradle the back of my head and stroke my hair. He lowered his chin to my head and inhaled my scent.

I looked up at him. His expression was completely different. The sense of unrest and agony was gone. It was truly calm. In that moment, I felt his heart open to me completely. Yet I had no idea what was going on inside his head. But that didn’t matter. His lids lowered. His face tilted toward mine.

He ran his hand across my cheek then slid it behind my neck. I arched my neck back and my lips parted. My eyes narrowed expectantly for the second time that night.

His eyes pressed closed and a pained expression tightened his features. He touched his forehead to mine. “I can’t, Samantha. I won’t do this to you.”

I don’t know how, but I felt his heart slam shut at that exact moment. My old vow that I would never grieve when a man pushed me away was on the verge of breaking. That scared me more than anything else. I wanted to cry.
 

My arms quivered while I hugged him as tightly as possible, trying to restrain my tears, trying to force his heart back open. It wasn’t working. Not because I wasn’t trying. He went rigid in my arms; tense, defensive, guarded.

I don’t know how long I held him before I ran out of energy and my arms relaxed. He put his hands on my shoulders and gently separated us.

He took my hands in his. “Can we agree to keep this a friendly, totally platonic, mentor-student thing? And nothing more?”

I barely had the energy to speak. I had used every ounce of it trying to force his heart back open.

He waited for my answer.

I was afraid to respond. If I said yes, I was shutting a door I didn’t want to close. If I said no, I feared he might leave my life forever.

Neither choice was appealing.

But something was better than nothing.

I slumped my shoulders. “Yes.” I felt defeated.

After Christos left, I crawled into bed. I considered calling Madison, but I didn’t think she could help. There was still too much about me she didn’t know, and I wasn’t prepared to tell her, no matter how close we had become. I considered a late night jog, but I was physically exhausted from the night’s adrenalin drain.

I considered my stash of ice cream in the freezer, but the thought alone churned my stomach in nauseating flips and flops.

I twisted up into my covers and cried myself to sleep. At least I could mourn in private.

I repeatedly dreamt of the haunted look I’d seen so clearly in Christos’ eyes when he alluded to his secret problems.

I knew all about secret problems.

Taylor.

I didn’t sleep well at all.

Chapter 14

I didn’t see Christos on campus the week after the party. I think he was avoiding me. When I called him, it always went to voicemail. When I texted him, he always replied back with the same message:

I’ll c u Saturday. 1pm. Bring sketchbook, pencils. Wear comfortable shoes.

I suppose it could have been worse. What was with the shoes?

By the middle of the week, the separation was driving me crazy. I decided to throw myself a pity party over lunch with Romeo and Kamiko. Fish Tacos always made me feel better.

They had already heard about the shooting at Jake’s party. Word was all over campus. The topic wasn’t willing to die a quick death.

“I’ve been working up a design for a fashionable bullet proof vest for you, Samantha. Want to see it?” Romeo joked.

“So not funny, Romeo,” Kamiko said.

I took a bite of my fish taco and immediately felt the tension in my stomach subside. At least food still had the power to quell my discomfort. I’d eaten through all my remaining ice cream at home over the last several evenings.

“What?” Romeo looked hurt. “She needs one! After Jake’s party? Where was it, Sam? Behind enemy lines?”

“It was random, Romeo. Nobody at the party knew who those guys were. They must have crashed it.”

“How many cops showed up?”

“I don’t know. Mads said there were like ten cars.”

“Sounds exciting.”
 

I could tell Romeo was trying to make light of the whole thing, but it wasn’t really working. “It wasn’t, Romeo. They shot at us. It was not an adventure.”

Kamiko threw him a glare.

Romeo’s normally impish face calmed into seriousness for once. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t be joking about this. I think in reality, it scares the shit out of me. You could’ve been hurt. I wouldn’t want that to happen.”

“It’s okay, Romeo. I get it. It was pretty traumatic.”

Romeo brightened again. “So, when do you see Adonis again? He seems to have disappeared.”

I hadn’t told them about the new boundaries laid down by Christos. They’d been pestering me for news all week. I decided to put it out in the open. “He said we should restrict our relationship to strictly mentoring.”

“What?” Kamiko was shocked. “You guys make such a cute couple!”

“Not anymore. But I’m meeting him on Saturday for another session. That’s all I know. Can we change the subject? Kamiko, how was the latest episode of Adventure Time?”

That was sufficient to steer the conversation clear of more talk about me and Christos.
 

“I’ve decided I want to marry Finn the Human,” she giggled.

“You’re perfect for each other,” Romeo laughed.

Maybe if I watched more cartoons like Kamiko, I wouldn’t be so depressed about everything.

No, I just needed to stock up on more ice cream on the way home.

On Saturday, I threw on whatever clean clothes were on the top of my drawers. I considered dressing to impress, but I knew Christos would see right through it. So it was t-shirt and jeans.

I wanted to maintain the formality of the relationship and honor the boundaries he’d set down. If things disintegrated, it wouldn’t be because of me.

 
If my shirt was a little too form-fitting and the scoop neck revealed too much cleavage, it was entirely by accident. I swear.

I drove to his house and arrived early. I don’t know if I was hoping for some extra social time with Christos or not. I worried we wouldn’t have snacks afterward like we had before. But if I was there early, we could chat for a bit before we started. Or so I told myself.

Luckily, no black Mercedes, but his motorcycle was there. I’d feared Tiffany would be in residence again, posing for her portrait. Now that I knew she was only there for the painting, I was okay with it. But I still didn’t want to run into her.

I rang the doorbell. No answer. Loud music drifted outside. Maybe he hadn’t heard. I tried knocking. There was so much bass pumping out of the house, maybe it blocked out my knocking. It was a pretty big house.

According to my phone, it was five after one. Maybe he was busy in the studio, working to his tunes, and was caught up in what he was doing.

I tried the door. It was open. I paused on the threshold, wondering if I was making a mistake.

Screw it.

I walked into the house.

The music thumped in the living room. No wonder he couldn’t hear me. Then I saw the rollerblades on the floor in the foyer. Two pairs.

I crept into the living room. Christos was on top of someone on the couch. Naked. Two perfect long legs wrapped around his waist. Perfect Paisley.

I watched Christos’ tattooed shoulders flexing and relaxing. His perfect ass rose and fell languorously. Every thrust stabbed my heart. My face knotted into a scowl.

Paisley released a throaty moan. She was certainly enjoying herself. “Harder,” she begged.

He grunted, and fulfilled her.

Their wordless wails blended together as they worked toward conclusion. Christos’ back muscles glistened and writhed.

“Yes!” Paisley cried in ecstatic release.

I was in turmoil. I envied Paisley more than I was willing to admit to myself. I should’ve learned my lesson not to snoop after Tiffany.

I was a slow learner when it came to Christos, and good at self-inflicted misery.

Christos groaned with intense pleasure.

Time for me to go. Why had I waited so long? Rubber-necking, I guess. Everyone stops to watch a train wreck.
 

Luckily, they hadn’t heard me. I backed up as quietly as possible and let myself out.
 

Now I knew why he told me to wear comfortable shoes. So I could bolt when I realized what an asshole he was.

I drove home. My eyes were dry. I stood by my promise to never shed tears for assholes.

What was with Christos? Make that stupid Adonis. He was available to all other women except me? I don’t know what the hell they were doing on that stupid couch together, but I’m sure it wasn’t mentoring. Because mentoring didn’t include what he was doing with Paisley, or whoever the bitch was. Not that I cared.