River of Love(10)

“Oh, you know. A bad breakup, too much tequila, and a best friend urging me on.” She tried to play it off casually, figuring he was just fishing for conversation.

“Actually, I don’t know. I told you I haven’t had a girlfriend in years, and I don’t date, so I don’t really get the whole bad breakup thing. What happened?”

She mulled that over for a minute. “What does that mean? You ‘don’t date’?”

“You tell me your secrets and I’ll tell you mine.” His eyes twinkled with playfulness, and the contrast to the heat his body was sending knocked her a little off-kilter.

“There’s not much to tell.”

“You started a group for women who had been cheated on. It seems like there would be a story behind that, but you don’t have to share it with me. I, on the other hand, am an open book. Do you want to know why I don’t date?”

No. Maybe. “Sure. Let’s hear it.”

“You’ve known a class clown or two, right?”

Totally not what she was expecting to hear, but she went with it. “I guess.”

“Everyone does. There’s one guy in every high school class, and when the reunion   comes around, he’s the same person he was all those years ago.”

“O-kay.”

“Well, I’m not that guy.” He fell silent, and she looked up at him.

“That’s it? That’s your story?”

“No. I was just trying to figure out how to explain what I wanted to say, and I realized it made me sound immature, so I stopped.” He gazed out over the water, the playfulness she’d seen slipping out of her grasp.

“So, you can’t figure out why you don’t date, or you’re too immature to admit the truth?”

He turned to look at her with a hint of a smile. “Do you always call people on their shit?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m just trying to figure you out, but you’re complicated. It’s like listening to a handful of symptoms and trying to diagnose a new disease.”

“That sounds horrible. I am not a disease. I’ve never had a disease, and…That’s just awful.” He chuckled, making her smile again.

“Not that you’re a disease, just…Okay, yes, I don’t put up with a lot of bullshit.”

“Because you were cheated on?”

Her mouth dropped open, and he held up a hand in surrender.

“Hey, fair’s fair. You called me on my shit.”

“Yes, okay? Is that what you want to hear? That I, too, have been treated like shit?” The admission made her feel vulnerable, and that wasn’t a feeling she liked.

He touched her hand, regret washing over his features. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to get to know you better, and not just the here and now, Faith. I want to know how you became the person you are.”

His confession was completely unexpected, softening her toward him. But the nagging question of why he wanted to get to know her played on in her head. Silence grew and expanded like a bubble between them, and she stifled the urge to ask, because this was Sam. He had only one endgame.

They walked in silence, broken only by the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the faint sound of music in the distance.

After a few uncomfortable minutes, he said, “Let’s see…why don’t I date?”

“You don’t have to tell me.” She felt a little silly for her earlier outburst.

“I want to. I was a rascally kid, like the class clown, only different.”

“I can only imagine,” she teased.

He cocked a brow, and she couldn’t tell if he meant it as a tease or a dare.

“I was always willing to stretch the rules, take risks. I’d sneak out and play my guitar down at the beach, or go to parties.”

He fell silent again, and she didn’t dare say a word. She wanted to hear more of his self-assessment.

“You know that old commercial, ‘Give it to Mikey; he’ll eat anything’?” he asked.

“Life cereal?”

“That was me. ‘Ask Sammy; he’ll do it. He’ll do anything.’”

“That sounds like a convenient excuse.”

“Convenient? Maybe. But hey, being that guy kept me from getting hurt.” The muscles in his jaw clenched.

“It’s hard to imagine you ever being hurt. You’re too confident, too…”

“Too what?” he challenged. “Too into not committing? Maybe. Have you ever heard of wabi-sabi?”

“Wabi what?”

“Wabi-sabi. It’s part of ancient Japanese culture. In its simplest form, it means finding beauty in imperfection and evolution—age spots, wrinkles, cracks, decay, cycles of growth. In a more general sense, it’s accepting and celebrating authenticity by acknowledging that nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.”

She had the undeniable sense of being let into a side of Sam he didn’t often share, and the depth of what he said was surprising. He seemed like a happy-go-lucky guy who didn’t think past the here and now.

You might miss out on a really great story if you judge a book by its cover. She had a feeling Vivian wasn’t the only one who had misjudged him.

“I learned about it from my high school art teacher at a time when I needed it most. Or rather, the minuscule part of it that I took the time to listen to and distorted into suiting my situation helped me let go of some things. Unfortunately, I didn’t take the time to learn about what it really meant until many years later. As a teenager, I took away only that ‘nothing lasts forever’.” He sighed, shook his head.

“It made it easy for the ‘Ask Mikey’ guy to become a way of life for me,” he said somberly. “I’ve been that guy for so long, I never questioned it. People expected me to be the noncommitter, the fun guy. Don’t get me wrong. I liked being in that role. I love my life, and being that way probably saved me lots of heartache.”

He stopped walking and sank down to the sand, bringing her down beside him. She wondered why he’d needed to believe something like that in high school.

“The thing is, Faith, I never realized I was playing a part until recently.”

He sounded so serious, so introspective, she found herself hoping this wasn’t a game to him. Faith curled her legs beside her. Her skirt hiked up, up, up, and Sam’s eyes followed, lingering on her thighs, making her insides fluttery and warm. When he lifted his eyes to hers, she saw darkness and sin layered with something even more enticing, something impossible to turn away from, though she had no idea how to define it.

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Their thighs brushed, their faces mere inches apart. Her body cried out for his touch, her mouth craved his kiss, but her mind wouldn’t join that risky ride. Sam held her gaze, unflinching, unhurried, with no expectations, and she realized what was holding her captive. Honesty.

Faith thrived on honesty. Craved it with a vengeance. She encountered so few men who could lay themselves bare for a woman, and here was Sam. He’d whipped out his phone to prove a point, and now he was opening up to her about who he was.

“Why?”

His brows knitted. “Why did it last so long?”

“No, I sort of get that. But why until recently?”

He shifted his eyes to the water, then back to her. The air between them pulsed, drawing them even closer together. She licked her lips, preparing for a kiss she was sure would come. Sam’s eyes dropped to her mouth, hovering there as he wet his own lips, making all her girly parts twitch with anticipation. She couldn’t kiss him, shouldn’t kiss him, but as he leaned closer, she didn’t give a damn what she shouldn’t do. The closer his mouth came to hers, the louder the blood rushing through her ears became. When he said—“I think it’s your turn to share”—it took a moment for it to register and to realize there wouldn’t be a kiss.

“Faith?” Vivian’s voice broke through the pulsing air. “Is that you?”

She whipped her head around, saw the girls traipsing toward her, and quickly turned back to Sam. “I’m sorry.” For almost kissing you? For looking like I wanted to? For my friends interrupting us?

He reached for her hand, speaking fast. “Go out with me.”

“I…I can’t.” She knew the dangers of going out with Sam, and Vivian was right. She was too taken with him to make smart decisions.

“One date.”

She knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer, but she didn’t trust herself with him. “You don’t date.”

“I don’t sit on the beach and talk either.”

She heard her friends’ voices coming closer and rose to her feet, brushing the sand from her legs, feeling shaken and shocked and tingly at the thought of going out with him.

“People don’t change, Sam.”

“What makes you think I need to change? I’m not a cheater. I told you that.” He stepped closer, leaving her no air at all. “I like talking with you, Faith. One date.”

Brittany jogged over to them, with Hilary and Vivian on her heels.

“You guys have been out here for an hour,” Brittany said. “We were worried.”

“They were worried. I knew Sam wouldn’t take advantage of you,” Hilary said. She smiled and added, “Unless you wanted him to.”