Staying On Top(72)

His gaze turned concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I think I’m just sorry this is almost over.”

“Really? You’re going to miss the two-day flights, the dirty trains, smelly buses, hostels and bedbugs?”

I forced a smile. “Don’t forget the balcony jumping.”

“How could I?”

My heart had leapt into my throat when my confession had spilled free that not only did I know this was about to be over, but that it made me sad. Maybe nothing could come of this relationship, even in perfect circumstances, but the ferocity with which I wanted to try to hold on to it terrified me.

It had come out of nowhere. Chemistry had turned into friendship had turned into attraction had turned into . . . was turning into more. The thought of not being able to turn and talk to Sam made the lump throb. Tears pricked my eyes. “I’m going to miss you, that’s all.”

“Holy shit.” He unbuckled his seat belt even though the wheels hadn’t touched down, pulling me into his arms in one swift movement. “I can’t believe it.”

“Believe what? After all of this, after the other night, you didn’t think I would miss you?” I mumbled the words against his shoulder, trying so hard not to cry.

He pulled back, thumbs smoothing the heat of my cheeks. “Honestly, Blair? I didn’t think I’d hear about it one way or the other. You’re so . . . bottled up. After the other night in that boat, there was no denying the way we’re connected, but I didn’t expect you to admit it.”

“I didn’t expect me to admit it, either.”

“This doesn’t have to be the end, Blair. I know my schedule is crazy and you have two years of school left, we still have to figure out your dad and everything. But as stupid as it sounds, I’ve never felt this way about anyone—like nothing would be real if I couldn’t tell you about it. Don’t give up before we give it a try.”

It sounded wonderful, coming out of his mouth. The way he described it, like life would feel wrong if we couldn’t share it, mirrored the desperate desire to keep him that was ripping apart my own heart. The memory of my dad’s text message trampled the joy threatening to burst me open. There were too many things Sam didn’t know. I was falling for him, but I knew the real him. The girl Sam thought he was falling for wasn’t the girl who had spent the last ten days at his side—not totally.

He couldn’t possibly want to rearrange his life to include Blair the con-artist liar.

Sam watched me, a cautious hope in his posture, fingers gripping my waist. I wanted to make him happy, but more than that, I didn’t want to lie to him ever again. “Let’s figure out my dad first, then see where we go from there.”

A smidge of the light went out of his face, but he covered it quickly, pecking me on the lips. “It’s a starting point. That’s more than we had three days ago.”

The wheels touched down, humming along the short runway. Sam sat back in his seat, watching out the window with a faint smile, while I gathered my things from under the seat. If only the conversation could have meant the same thing to me as it did to him. For Sam, saying we would figure things out after we dealt with my dad was a reason to have hope.

For me, it meant I knew when we’d say good-bye.

*



The nice thing about convincing Sam that my father’s vast, imaginary network of spies would find us if we traveled in our typical style was not having to wait for baggage. We climbed off the plane and went through customs before most of our fellow passengers had left the bathroom. I watched the agent stamp my passport, my mind going again to the vaguely threatening message from my dad. For the first time since spinning the yarn to try to talk Sam out of joining me on a fake quest around the world, I wondered how much truth there might be to it—if Dad had been notified about the “break-in” in Belgrade, and he probably had, he could have pulled the footage and seen us there.

He didn’t have any reason not to trust me, I reminded myself. He might think my methods were excessive, especially if he checked out how much money I’d taken out of my spending account in the past two weeks, but he wouldn’t think I’d gone soft.

I tried hard to recall if we did anything or said anything in Belgrade that would make him realize I had feelings for Sam that were getting in the way, but it didn’t matter. My dad had a perceptiveness that didn’t seem human. If he was in the Caymans, if he saw Sam and me together, there was no way he would miss the pull between us. It could make him nervous, but it more likely would make him angry. People did what my father asked. I did what my father asked.