Fearless (The Story of Samantha Smith #1) (39 page)

I was completely relaxed. I had no idea anyone could ever be
this
relaxed.

I think at that point, it was safe to say:

First. Orgasm. Ever.

Hmm, maybe that was an understatement. I mean, I could’ve sworn I’d given myself one or two orgasms in the past. Oh, no, no, no. Not even close. Those had been like firecrackers. This was a super nova. This was the end of the universe.

How about:

First. Near death experience. Ever.

“Grapes?” Christos mocked.

I grabbed his hair with both fists and laughed deeply, freely, like I don’t think I ever had before. Total, joyful, ecstasy.

“Grapes,” I said, still laughing.

“I so fucking love you, Samantha.”

“I so
going down
love you, Christos Manos.”

We chuckled together. I lifted my legs over his head and twisted them to the side. He snaked up my body and pinned me with his eyes.

His face glistened with my wetness. He cracked his dimples out like a pro, then leaned in and kissed me.

I tasted myself, and I tasted good.

I was so fucking dirty, and I loved it.

Chapter 22

That night, I slept like a log. There was no way you could’ve woken me up. If the apartment were to catch fire, I trusted Christos to carry me outside to safety while I snored.

The next morning, Christos made me breakfast in bed again. It was a good thing, because after last night’s 10.0 Richter quake between my legs, I wasn’t sure I could stand up yet.

After breakfast, we showered separately. Christos told me he had a special surprise and we needed to get moving.

When we were dressed, I asked what the surprise was.

“You’ll find out when we get there. You’re going to need a sketchbook. Do you have an extra one I can borrow?”

“Actually, I’ve got yours.”

“I forgot all about it!” He smiled and pecked my cheek. “Hey, sorry for ditching you that day at the view,” he said quietly.

“Don’t worry about it.” It seemed ages ago. So much had transpired since he’d left me at his family’s bench up at the view with me thinking I’d destroyed everything between us.
 

He opened his sketchbook and carefully tore out the caricature drawing he’d made of me as a master artist. “This is for you.” He smiled.

I took it from him with two hands, admiring it again. “It’s so good, Christos. I’ll treasure it forever.”

He grinned, somewhat abashed. “And so true. You’re destined to be great, Samantha Smith. I know it.”

When he said it, I totally believed him. I hugged the drawing gently to my chest and stifled fresh tears. After a moment, I carefully set the drawing on my bookcase. “Okay! So, what are we doing today?” I asked.

“Lion or Stallion?”

“Huh?”

“Pick.”

Was he talking about himself? If that was the case, both applied. “Both?” I grinned.

“You have to pick one.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Although Christos was most definitely a stallion in every respect, after the way he devoured me last night, I think the safe answer was, “Lion?”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Lion it is. Do you want me to drive?”

“Sure!” I handed him my keys.

We hopped in my car and drove to the freeway. He took the southbound onramp.

Twenty minutes later we took the Washington Street offramp and drove through neighborhood streets, then suddenly pulled into a huge parking lot.

“Where are we?”

Kids and families were climbing out of cars.

“The San Diego Zoo.”

“No way! I love the zoo!”

We walked to the entrance hand in hand. For the first time, I felt like we were on an official date. Christos had a membership and a guest ticket, so we got in free.

“How often do you come here,” I asked.

“Whenever I want to draw the animals. Maybe once a month?”

“This must be totally boring for you then,” I said, unable to hide my disappointment.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been here so many times, there’s nothing new.”

“I’ve never been here with you, have I?”

My pouty mouth widened into a smile. I leaned against him and tip-toed up to kiss his cheek. He turned and our lips met.

“Come on, there’s a lot to see. And I don’t want to miss something.” He dragged me through the main entrance by the hand.

He wasn’t kidding. The zoo was enormous. He knew his way around and we cut through tons of animal exhibits. I wanted to stop and enjoy it all, but he wouldn’t relent.

We ended up near a large cage with a crowd of a dozen people around it. It seemed anti-climactic compared to what we’d passed on the way there.

“What is it?” I asked, somewhat confused.

“Feeding time. Get ready.”

The next thing I knew, a huge black panther hopped up from nowhere, onto a tree limb.

“Oh, wow! He’s beautiful.”

A zookeeper narrated as an assistant hung a huge hunk of meat from a rope that dangled in the center of the cage. The zookeeper talked about jaguar eating habits while the assistant yanked on the rope and the chunk of raw flesh danced around the panther.

The zookeeper explained that they made Mbwana the jaguar work for his food to give him exercise.

Mbwana was beautiful and powerful. His eyes darted as the meat swung and jumped at the end of the rope. He padded from the tree branch onto the roof of his sleeping hut. He crouched down, his head dipping liquidly, timing the trajectory of the meat. He lunged suddenly, launching through the air at the hunk, hooking it with one paw. The assistant yanked on the rope, trying to snap it from Mbwana’s grasp.

Mbwana swiped at the chunk with both enormous clawed paws and pulled it into his chest. I could see every muscle in his body flexing magnificently while he pulled against the rope. The assistant was almost powerless to resist and let go of the rope. Mbwana took his kill into his den and had breakfast.

“That was awesome!” I couldn’t believe it. I’d been maybe five feet away, just on the other side of the cage, the whole time. “I’ve never been so close to a black panther before!” My eyes were beaming. “Is this what you meant by lions?”

“Yup.”

“What would’ve been stallions?”

“The horses at the Del Mar track.”

“Oh, what? We missed the horses?”

“Next time.” He hugged me to his side.

After that, we casually strolled the zoo, enjoying all the exhibits. We found the tigers and lions as well. My favorite exhibit was probably the baby pandas. They were totally, ridiculously cute. If Kamiko had come, I imagined she would’ve spent the entire day watching them.

Christos pulled out his sketchbook at various exhibits and explained the basic differences between drawing people and animals. He was so damn good at it, but he encouraged me to draw stick figure animals, much like how I had started with people the first day of Life Drawing. I had a ton of fun.

Everywhere we went, Christos knew people. He talked to the zookeepers, who knew him by name. He talked to the guys who drew caricatures for the customers. The caricature manager told Christos he had gone by Charboneau gallery to see Christos’ paintings after the opening. The manager then introduced Christos to the other artists, one of whom Christos already knew. Christos was a local celebrity. It never ceased to amaze me how well connected he was.

We had an early lunch, and made it back to his grandfather’s house in time to walk down to the library for Drawing With Christos with the kids.

It was an amazing day all the way around.

The next week was Thanksgiving week. Classes flew by.

Madison, Romeo, and Kamiko all talked about their four-day weekend plans. They were all driving or flying home to see their families, as were most of the kids on campus.

I, on the other hand, would remain in San Diego. My parents didn’t have money to fly me home for Thanksgiving
and
winter break, so we opted for winter break. Thankfully, Madison invited me to her family’s house on Thanksgiving day so I wouldn’t be completely alone the entire long weekend.

When I talked to Christos on Wednesday, he invited me to his grandfather’s house for Thanksgiving dinner.

“We’re having people over all day long. I would love to have you, so would my grandfather.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Christos. Madison already invited me to her parents house in Huntington Beach. I said yes. She asked me like a week ago.”

“That’s cool.”

I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or not. “You could come with me to Mads’ house. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. She made it sound like there was plenty of room.”

“I sort of have to help out my grandad.”

“Let me check with Mads, I’m sure she’ll understand if I can’t make it.” I was torn because I was forced to chose between my best friend and Christos.
 

For all intents and purposes, even though Christos and I hadn’t confirmed the boyfriend-girlfriend label, I felt like that was the category we fell into.

Weren’t boyfriends and girlfriends supposed to do holiday things together?

I mean, I’d even gone to Damian’s parents for Thanksgiving dinner fairly early in the relationship. Afterward, we’d gone to my parents house for dessert. We did the reverse for Christmas. And that was stupid Damian.

“Maybe you can do both,” Christos suggested. “Hit up Mads then drive to my place? Or vice versa?”

“Yeah!” Only Christos wouldn’t be with me. Unless. “Can you come?”

“I wish. We’re making a lot of food, and people will be coming and going all day long. I need to help play host. The Charboneau’s will stop by, as will the Kingston-Whitehouses.”

“The whos?”

“Brandon’s family, the guy who runs the gallery?”

“Oh yeah.” Handsome Brandon. The snake charmer.

“And Tiffany’s parents.”

“Oh.” Why did I not like the idea that Tiffany would be alone at an all-day party with Christos? It sounded very dangerous to my love life.
 

Christos chuckled. He must’ve picked up on my anxiety. “Don’t worry,
agápi mou.
I love you. You don’t need to worry about Tiffany. I know how to draw boundaries. But I have to schmooze her parents. They’re big art buyers. They’ve known my family forever.”

I rolled my eyes at myself. “I’m sorry. I’m being totally immature. I love you, Christos.”

“It’s okay,
agápi mou.
I love you too. Look, what time is Madison’s thing?”

“They eat at two.”

“Perfect. Eat with them, then come over to our house in the evening. We’ll be serving food into the evening.”

“Okay!” At least I didn’t have to disappoint Madison. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to worry about stupid Tiffany. She was such a rude bitch.

Christos spent the night before Thanksgiving at his grandfather’s house because there was so much to do to prepare, and Spiridon really needed his help.

I woke up in an empty bed for the first time in days. It was very lonely. I missed Christos already. At least I’d see him in about twelve hours. I could handle that.

I moped around my apartment for awhile, then walked down to the beach. I strolled along the surf, enjoying the sunrise. It was so beautiful. I couldn’t believe this was fall weather. The temperature was cool, but not cold. The sky was clear blue and cloudless.

I went back to my apartment and called my parents around noon, east coast time.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad. Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Well, hello, Sam. Linda!” he shouted away from the phone, “our long lost daughter is calling again!”

My mom picked up. “Sam! It’s been weeks since we’ve heard from you! Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“Then why haven’t you called or answered emails? We were getting worried.”

They hadn’t heard from me because I didn’t really want to tell them I was in love with an amazing man, an artist, and I wanted to be an artist too. How was I going to explain all that without a lecture and threats of coming out to stage an intervention on my behalf? Groan. “I guess I’ve been super busy studying, so I forgot. Sorry.”

“That’s okay, Sam. As long as you’re all right, that’s all that matters.”

Why did I think that wasn’t exactly true?

“Your mother is right, Sam. We care about you.”

Yes, they cared, but what about the love part? I was ready to cry already.

“How are classes going,” my dad asked.

“Classes are fine, Dad.” Fuck. I really was born into the wrong family. My life was evolving into something neither I nor my parents could’ve ever predicted. And I knew they were the last people on earth I could tell about it, share it with, or rejoice with. I would have more luck telling a random stranger about my new excitement than my parents.

“Have you signed up for classes for next quarter yet?”

“No,” I lied.

“You’ll sign up for Micro Economics, like we discussed back when, right?”

“Yes,” I lied. I dropped onto my couch and pulled my knees to my chest.

Not that it was hard to lie to my parents. They never knew why I broke up with Damian. They had pried and probed, but I gave them some vague story about things not working out. My mom had said that these things happened with teenage romance. That was about it. No consolation, no hugs, no commiseration. Just reassurance that I would get over it. Thanks, Mom. My dad had been disappointed because he always thought Damian seemed like such a nice guy. My parents were clueless sometimes.

“How are you grades?” Dad asked.

“Fine,” I sighed.

“We’re sorry you couldn’t be here with us for Turkey Day,” my mom said.

Sorry? How about:
We miss you.
 

Groan. My parents were either worried or sorry. I sighed again, more heavily this time, and held the phone away so they wouldn’t here me.

“Do you have any plans today,” Dad asked.

“Yeah, I’m going to my friend Madison’s parents in Huntington Beach. It’s close.”

“Oh, that’s nice, Sam. It’s good that you’re making friends.”

“We were worried about you, over the last couple of years,” my mom said. “It seemed like all of your high school friends disappeared for no good reason, so that’s good news.”