Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
He says, “I wasn’t. But now that it’s done, I am.”
I smile, and then I start anxiously bouncing on my toes. “Look at it, I’m dying.”
Samson looks down at his tattoo for the first time. It’s about the size of a fist, right beneath the inside crease of his elbow. I’m staring at his face, waiting for his reaction.
He has no reaction.
He just stares at it.
“It’s Hurricane Ike,” I explain, running my finger across it. “I used a radar photo of when it was right over Bolivar Peninsula, and had him turn it into a tattoo.”
The only thing I get from Samson is a sigh. And I can’t even tell if it’s a good sigh.
I feel anxious now. I was so convinced he would like it; I didn’t think about what it might mean if he didn’t.
Samson slowly lifts his eyes. There’s no give in his expression that would hint at what he’s thinking.
But then he grabs my face and kisses me so sudden and so hard, I fall against the bathroom door. I think this means he likes it. He lowers his hands to my thighs and slides me up the door until I’m wrapped around him, like he’s trying to tie us in a permanent knot.
He’s kissing me with a freshly dug-up feeling he’s never kissed me with before. I’m not sure any other response to seeing his tattoo would have been an appropriate one now that I’ve been met with this response.
He moves against me in a way that makes me moan, but as soon as I do, he pulls his mouth from mine like that moan was a big red stop sign. He drops his forehead to mine and his words are full of emotion when he says, “I’d take you right here if you didn’t deserve better.”
I’d let him.
TWENTY-TWO
“No.” My father’s response is absolute.
“Please?”
“No.”
“I’m nineteen.”
“She’s on the pill,” Alana says.
I set my fork down and press a hand to my forehead. I don’t know why I even asked him if I could stay the night with Samson. I should have just snuck out and come home before he woke up. But I’m trying not to break any of his rules.
Sara finished eating before this discussion started, but she looks like she’s enjoying it. She’s seated at the table with her knee pulled up to her chest, watching this conversation like we’re playing it out on a television. All she needs is a bag of popcorn.
“Does your mother let you spend the night with guys?” my father asks.
I laugh half-heartedly at that. “My mother didn’t care where I spent the night. I want you to care. I would just also appreciate it if you trusted me.”
My father runs a hand down his face like he doesn’t know what to do. He looks to Alana for answers. “Would you allow Sara to spend the night with Marcos?”
“Sara and Marcos spend the night together all the time,” Alana says.
I glance at Sara just as she perks up in her chair. “We do not.”
Alana rolls her head. “I’m not ignorant, Sara.”
There’s a look of complete surprise on Sara’s face. “Oh. I thought you were.”
I laugh at that, but no one else does.
With that news, my father somehow seems even more torn.
“Listen, Dad,” I say as gently as possible. “I wasn’t really asking you for permission. I was more or less telling you I’m staying at Samson’s house tonight as a courtesy because this is your house and I’m trying to be respectful. But it would make this a lot easier if you would just say okay.”
My father groans, falling back into his chair. “I’m so glad I punched that damn kid when I had the chance,” he mutters. Then he waves toward the front door. “Fine. Whatever. Just…don’t make a habit of this. And be home before I wake up so I can pretend tonight never happened.”
“Thank you,” I say, pushing back from the table. Sara immediately follows me out of the kitchen and up the stairs. When we get to my room, she falls onto the bed.
“I can’t believe my mother knows Marcos sleeps over sometimes. I thought we were really sneaky about it.”
“You might be sneaky, but you certainly aren’t quiet.”
She laughs. “I can’t let Marcos find out she knows. He likes the forbidden aspect of it all.”
I text Samson to let him know I’m definitely staying over, and then I open my closet door and stare into it. “What the hell do I wear?”
“I don’t think it matters. The goal is to end up in nothing by the end of the night, right?”
I can feel my skin begin to tingle with nervousness. I’ve had sex plenty of times, but never in a bed. Never fully naked. And definitely never with someone I care about.
Samson texts me back a fireworks emoji. I roll my eyes and slip my phone back into my pocket.