Her Swedish Billionaire's Baby(8)
She shrugged amiably. Just getting to talk to another person and put the agonizing loneliness at bay for one evening was bliss. She’d probably say yes to anything she proposed, at this point.
She smiled, squirming slightly closer to her on the bed. “Were you poor?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation, and without expression. Actually, the answer to that question was complicated, but that was why this short-answer format was good. “Were you?”
“Nope. Rich. Disgustingly rich.”
She grinned at the thought and rolled to face her, to see her expression. She was grinning, too. “What’s that like?” she asked eagerly.
“It was awesome. That was two questions; now I get to ask you two.”
She subsided. “Oh. Sorry ....”
She squirmed still closer. Their arms were touching. “What are your siblings’ names?”
“I just have one. Her name is Alison.”
“Older or younger?”
“Older by four years.”
“Were you close?”
“That’s three questions.”
“No, I was catching up on the two questions you asked me, then asking my question.”
“I think your math is off ....”
“Just answer!”
Samara thought about Alison, and a lump appeared in her throat. She had to breathe and get a handle on herself a long few seconds before she could answer. “Yeah, we were close.”
She seemed to realize she’d hit a nerve. She touched her arm with a finger. “Sorry,” she said softly.
“It’s okay,” she said quickly, unable to stand the idea of making her feel bad when she was so nice to her. “It’s just ... I wasn’t supposed to go to college; they see it as a betrayal, like I abandoned them. I expected my dad to disown me for it, but ... but not Alison.”
Her face was only a few inches away. She stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay. It’s just ... hard to talk about.”
“I know. I’m sorry for asking. I’m sorry for making you talk when you didn’t want to.”
“Please don’t apologize; you didn’t know. I’m just happy to be here with you right now. After everything, it feels so good--”
Her grinning face was revealed once it was gone, beautiful and fragile and vulnerable. It stopped her short. She hung her head, trying to catch her breath. “I don’t even know your name,” she said finally.
“Amy,” she said, looking confused. The mask was beginning to return.
“I’m Samara,” she said, rolling off her.
“What--what happened? Why--?”
“Amy. This isn’t a good idea.”
“Why not?” she said, beginning to sound offended.
“I, uh ... am a mess, as you’ve seen. I don’t know what you were hoping for, but ... you know, I’m not sure I’m even friend material. And ... I’m not really a ... good person.”
“Well, neither am I!” she retorted, as if her minor infractions of the rules of etiquette somehow made her really bad news.
“Yes, you are,” she said softly. Her hopeful, vulnerable face was all she could see, even with her eyes closed and her head in her hands.
“How can you say stuff like that and expect me not to want to be your friend?” she demanded, and Samara couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“Amy, I want to be your friend too. It's been a while since I had a friend; it would be nice.”
Amy was on her instantly, hugging her feverishly. “We’ll be friends,” she murmured. “Best friends. Friends with benefits. Friends with the full package of benefits: dental, vision ....”
Samara grinned against her hug feeling happier than she’d been in all the time since she left home. “You do realize,” she murmured softly as she fished around for another piece of pizza, “you’re my first friend here.”
Amy tittered gleefully. “You’re such a fucking liar!”
“No .... I’ve done a lot of stuff, but ... I didn’t really want to. Moving around a lot because we were trying to stay one step ahead of the creditors meant that we couldn’t really form deep connections y’know? This is the first time I’ve known where I’ll be a year from now.” It pierced her heart to know it; especially with the hole of Alison’s absence in her life.
“Well in that case, I’m glad to have the honor,” Amy said.