Samson returned to his seat. He stared down at the table, contemplating my words. "Someone as in an ex-boyfriend?"
"I don't want to get into that. All I'm saying, is I've steered clear of guys like you for a long time now."
"Guys like me?" Samson's eyebrows squinted together. "Are you basically calling me an asshole?" His dimples deepened, revealing a full smile.
"Yes," I gestured to him, "but then you give your heart-stopping smile and it's all forgotten."
"You think my smile is heart-stopping?"
My palm hit my forehead, and I heard Samson laugh loudly.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I'll try and not be such an asshole," he said genuinely.
"Good." I returned the smile.
"You didn't answer my question though."
I looked up at Samson, confused. "What?"
"You really think my smile is heart-stopping?" His smile reached ear to ear.
Just as I was about to answer, Max returned with a carafe full of coffee and Samson's blueberry scone. Once we were both sure we wouldn't need anything else, Max walked away from the table, leaving Samson and I alone.
"More coffee?"
I nodded and Samson began pouring the heavenly liquid into my empty mug.
"Sugar?" His blue eyes locked into mine.
"Yes, dear?" I jokingly asked and began laughing. Samson joined in and we must have laughed for a good two minutes.
"Think we can be friends, Natalia?" Samson took a bite from his scone, making my mouth water. I longed for the sweet, carb-filled pastry, but knew it would be a mistake.
"I guess so," I said sarcastically.
"Being friends and all, we should learn more about each other. Where did you grow up?"
I wanted to open up to Samson, but I was still a bit wary. How much should I tell him? Would he use it against me someday? I decided to give him just the basics for now.
"I grew up in Illinois. I've been dancing for about fifteen years. What about you? You don't seem like the typical ballerino."
His right cheek quirked up, revealing his endearing smile. "My dad is a cardiologist at a hospital in Connecticut. I was supposed to follow in his footsteps and go to medical school, but I've always wanted to be a dancer. I haven't been dancing as long as you have, though."
"You mean to tell me that you're
that
good and you haven't been doing it for long?" My eyebrows furrowed together. I had always been so jealous of the dancers who easily picked up on difficult techniques.
"So, you think I'm good?" His crooked smile turned into a full-on one, exposing a set of perfect white teeth.
"I think you've heard that enough times to know you're good. One more compliment and your head will explode."
His laugh filled the cafe. It felt good sitting here and joking with Samson. I was happy I had convinced myself to give him a chance.
"Do you have any siblings?" I had a feeling he didn't. Being an only child, it was easy to spot another.
"No. My mom always wanted a daughter, but my dad was against having anymore after I was born. Since he got his wish by having a son, the conversation was over, though, now that I'm a dancer, I'm sure he wishes he would have had more kids." Samson looked down at his lap, dejected.
"What about your mom? How does she feel about your dancing?" I didn't want to pry, but my curiosity got the better of me. I felt like I could relate to Samson. When he spoke about his dad, I sensed that the pressure put on him was immense.
"My mom is the only person who supports what I do. She's amazing." Samson's face lit-up when he talked about his mother. I could tell they were close. "What about you? Are your parents supportive?" Samson asked and I immediately clammed up.
When asked about my parents, I still didn't know how to respond. Parent. It was no longer plural. "It's just me and my mom," I responded quickly. "She's actually my dance teacher." Now I was the one who looked dejected.
"I don't want to be nosey or anything, and you don't have to tell me, but where is your dad?"
There it was. The question that made me sick to my stomach.
"My dad," I paused, "he died last year."
Samson's eyes met mine. I was expecting him to say the usual, "I'm sorry," or worse, "I know how you feel." After my father's funeral, I counted fifteen people who said that to me. I wanted to scream at them, tell them they had no idea how I felt because loss can't be compared. Samson didn't say either of those things.
"I can't even begin to imagine that kind of pain, Natalia." His hand reached across the table and found mine. He didn't quite hold my hand, but his fingers caressed the inside of my palm.
"It's a pain that's everlasting," I said quietly, not knowing if Samson could hear me over the loud chatter in the cafe.
"Do you wanna talk about it? I'd love to listen."
I wasn't used to sincerity. My mother didn't have a sincere bone in her body. I took a deep breath and began. "He had cancer. It was a long fight and we spent a good chunk of time in and out of the hospital." I laughed, my body responding to the stressful memories. I thought about the hospital that I'd grown so familiar with. If I closed my eyes, I could picture the long hallways leading down to the surgical rooms. I could still hear the constant ringing of telephones and the greeting that the receptionists answered with. I couldn't use hand sanitizer any longer because the smell reminded me of the place where I sat, day and night. It had been a whole year, yet I still felt trapped within the cement walls. Samson's fingers softly caressed my skin as I spoke. "He was wonderful." I felt tears build in my eyes. If I blinked, they would fall down my cheeks, and I didn't want to cry in public. I didn't want to cry in front of Samson. "I need to use the restroom."
I stood from my chair, pushing it back and rushing off. Once I closed and locked the door, I cried. There were many moments like this in my life now. They'd come out of nowhere. I could be doing something as trivial as tying my shoe and all of a sudden, my dad would invade my mind and I'd start bawling.
I sat against the door, my head in my lap, sobbing. After a few minutes, I heard a knock on the door. "Someone's in here," I said loudly, my voice shaky.
"Natalia, it's me," Samson answered.
I wiped under my eyes, glad I had not worn any mascara that morning. Fanning my eyes, I tried my best to hide the fact that I'd been blubbering like a baby. I took a deep breath before opening the door, preparing myself for the world. I'd done that every morning since that fateful night. I smiled to disguise my heartbreak. I wore the mask so well, people around me thought I was strong, however, every piece of me was shattered and I didn't think I'd ever be repaired.
"Natalia," he reached out and pulled me into his chest, "are you all right? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bring up your dad." He hugged me tightly and I wished we weren't in a public place. It felt amazing being comforted.
"It's okay." I took another deep breath, inhaling Samson's scent. "It's really okay."
He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin for an extra moment. We walked back to the table and sat down.
"I just want to say one thing." Samson's blue eyes stared into mine. He slowly licked his lips before speaking. "I don't know much about your life, but I do see how your face lights up when you dance. That's the reason you're here, Natalia. No matter what struggles you go through, you'll always be able to look at your life and know what an incredible feat it was to get where you are today. You deserve happiness."
I was wrong about Samson. Sitting here with him, I was able to see past his facade. Before I knew it, we had been at Cafe Lalo for two hours. I was able to open up about more about my life. We talked about our childhoods, my demanding mother, and more about his father, who had never accepted his choices. Every time Samson brought up his dad, I could see that he was suffering. Like me, Samson faked his own happiness. He was confiding in me, and I in him.
"If you would have told me yesterday that we'd be sitting at a cafe for hours, talking about our lives, I would have laughed in your face," I said, and Samson nodded in agreement. "I should be going. I have plans to see one of my favorite bands tonight. I'm gonna head back and get ready." As I stood from my chair, Samson followed.
"What band? I have plans, too, but they aren't definite. If it's a good band, I'd love to check them out." Samson pressed and I wasn't sure if he really wanted to see the band or just wanted to spend more time with me.
"They're called Roadkill Ghost Choir. I discovered them on BriteRevolution." Every time I mentioned this website, no one knew what I was talking about. Just as I was about to explain what it was, Samson spoke.
"I love that site. I'm always on there looking for new stuff."
"Well, aren't we two peas in a pod?" I immediately wished I hadn't said that. To cover up my embarrassment, I continued. "If you want, you can join me. Their set starts at 9. I'm sure the place will be packed, so I planned on getting there early to grab a spot in the front." I picked up my bag and chugged the last bit of coffee from my cup. I had successfully downed five cups, which meant hell on my bladder.
"That would be awesome. Here, give me your number and I'll call you tonight." He handed me his phone so I could put my number in it. I obliged, of course.
After leaving Samson behind, I became acutely aware of the excitement flowing through my body. I knew this wasn't a date, but spending more time with Samson while listening to one of my favorite bands was a win-win.
Walking back to the dorms, I felt my phone vibrate. Expecting an irate voicemail from my mother, I dragged it out. It was from a number I didn't recognize.
"Hope to hang out more tonight, friend."
I immediately saved Samson's number.
I arrived back at my room and found Kingsley in a position I never expected to see anyone in. Ever. Her back was to me and she was on her knees. The guy standing before her had his head thrown back in ecstasy. I screamed in horror and covered my eyes. The guy's head snapped up in alarm, and Kingsley whipped her head around. He quickly jumped into her bed, covering his nakedness. Kingsley stood up, without any hint of embarrassment.
"What the fuck are you doing in here?" she asked leisurely. "Didn't you see the scrunchie on the door?"
How was she not embarrassed about this? The girl had no inhibitions.
"No! It's not like every time I enter our bedroom, I study the doorknob!" I turned to leave but heard Kingsley laughing. Whirling back around, my blood began to boil. "This isn't funny, Kingsley!" I shouted. The guy was horrified. I assumed he didn't know Kingsley well and was just as surprised that she wasn't distressed in the least.
"It is funny, actually." She turned to her bed with an expectant look on her face. "George, you can leave now. My lovely roommate and I are going to have a chat."
Without a word, he jumped out of her bed, balls hanging in full view, and gathered his clothes from the floor. My stomach had started to turn and I felt like I could puke at any moment. When naked George left our room, Kingsley sauntered over to me, stopping an inch from my face. I could have sworn she was about to kiss me, which would have really been the icing on the cake.
"I'm sorry about that, roomie. Pay better attention to the door next time." She bent down and kissed my cheek, walked back to her side of the room, and sat down on her rumpled sheets.
"This is my room, too. I shouldn't have to be scared of what I'm going to find when I come in here!"
"Then I guess you'll be seeing more where that came from. If you ever want to watch, just ask." Her smile was pure evil.
"How are you not embarrassed? That guy just left our room, bare ass naked and humiliated!" I yelled.
"If he gets arrested for indecent exposure, that's his own problem."
I walked over to my bed, completely baffled. Kingsley was unlike any person I'd ever met. Her attitude astonished me. I considered myself easygoing before meeting her. Now, I felt like I was living in a shell, terrified of the world. I needed to calm myself down. Aside from dancing, music was the only thing that gave me peace. I grabbed my headphones and sat on the edge of my bed. Kingsley was now sprawled out, with her legs in the air, tapping to a silent beat. In the week we'd been here, I hadn't gotten a chance to learn much about Kingsley. She went out almost every night and returned when I was asleep. I had no idea how she ran on only a few hours of sleep per night, but it never showed in class. Kingsley's dancing was incredible and she was constantly praised for her talent.
"Why do you keep looking at me, blondie?"
"You might be the most unusual girl I've ever met."
Kingsley laughed at my comment. I had a feeling it wasn't the first time she'd heard that.
"Thank you," she replied.
"Who was that guy?" My curiosity got the best of me.
"Just some guy I met–what do you care?" she asked maliciously.
"I don't." I wrapped my blanket over my legs and scrolled through the playlists I'd created.
"I met him the other night. I was bored, so I called him."
I couldn't imagine myself ever calling up a random guy to have sex because I was
bored
. I did that with Cole a few times, unfortunately, but never with a stranger. "Have you ever had a serious boyfriend?" I wasn't sure if Kingsley would ever divulge any personal information, but it was worth a shot.