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The Almost Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Series Book 2) Page 10
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They weren’t dancing anymore. Sam was looking at the sadness held between Devon’s furrowed brows. He already had lines there, like he’d spent entirely too much time worrying for someone who was only seventeen. Maybe being seventeen just sucked for everyone.
“Have you told your father how you feel?” she asked.
“He doesn’t care. Cor-Tec is his dying wish for me. I can’t let his half of the company go to the highest bidder. Your father would be ruined too if I did that.”
“I’m sorry, Devon. I didn’t know . . . ”
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to crap on your problems with mine. I just mean to say that I know this isn’t Boston, but things might not be as bad at they seem. If you’re open to it, you could have some pretty grand firsts here.”
Staring up at Devon made her think of some pretty grand firsts, indeed.
She nodded at him, not sure what to say. Devon’s problems were much bigger than hers. She could go back to Boston next year, or anywhere she wanted. And she still had her father, even if he was a pain in her ass half the time.
“You ready to go home?” he asked.
“Sure.”
15
Devon
Devon was quiet on the drive home. He felt like a wall had gone up between him and Sam all of a sudden. He was cursing himself for ruining their perfect night by bringing up Boston and his father. Sam was right; she was his happy distraction. He just wanted to bury himself in her and the magnificent way she made him feel. But that wouldn’t solve his problems. He was beginning to realize nothing would.
He walked Sam to her door and they both stood awkwardly in the hall looking down at their feet. Sam was still barefoot, and Devon wished he still had her feet in his lap.
“Thanks again for tonight,” Devon said, finally looking at Sam.
“It was fun.”
“It was. And I’m sorry about what I said.”
She looked at him like she didn’t know what he was apologizing for.
“The wanting to kiss you thing,” he clarified.
“Oh.”
“You were right,” he continued.
“I was?”
“Yeah. We need rules if we’re going to be friends. Crossing the line would just muck things up. And I really don’t want to muck it up with you, Sam.”
She looked up at him, her face a sea of turmoil. “You’re not going to mess things up, Devon. I know how hard losing a parent can be. I’m always going to be here for you if you need me.”
“What about Boston?”
“Who knows? But whether I end up in Boston or China, I’m only ever a phone call or text message away.”
“Good, because I think I need you.” Devon could feel his face breaking. “I know I do.”
He watched his reflection twist in Sam’s eyes. He hated acting like a sniveling fool around her. He must have drunk too much champagne. But Sam didn’t seem put off by his sudden rush of emotions. She reached her hand up and gently cupped his face. “You have me, Devon.” And then she kissed his cheek.
Devon pulled her to him trying to hide his tears. He knew she didn’t mean it the way he wanted her to. But it was good enough for now.
They stood in the hallway holding each other tightly. Sam stayed patiently in his arms, rubbing her hands in soothing circles on his back until Devon could collect himself. When he finally felt like he could take a shaky breath without breaking down, he pulled away from her.
“Thank you,” Devon said taking both of her hands.
Sam stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek again. “Goodnight, Devon.”
“Goodnight, Sam.”
Sam
Sam felt like she was dragging her heart behind her as she shuffled into her bedroom. It had been a traumatic night as far as her heart was concerned. She went from being all fluttery dancing with Devon, to shredded, after she tried to comfort him from the impossible loss he was facing. She was exhausted, and she wished there was more she could do for Devon. But all she could offer was to be there for him—whether he needed a shoulder to cry on or a happy distraction.
She and her father had been that for each other after Sam’s mother died. And that was really the only thing that got them through it. The casseroles helped, but there’s no recipe to heal a broken heart.
Sam forced herself to take a quick shower and then slipped into her new comfy pajamas before climbing into bed. She had just turned off the bedside lamp when she heard her phone ping with a text message. She rolled over and grabbed it off the nightstand.
DEVON: Just checking out your theory.
SAM: I’m still here.
DEVON: Good.
SAM: You know I’m only across the hall if you need me.
DEVON: I know.
DEVON: Thanks again for tonight.
SAM: Stop thanking me. I already told you I had fun.
DEVON: It was fun, wasn’t it? Maybe we should do it again?
SAM: Are you asking me out, friend?
DEVON: No. That would be against the rules.
SAM: Good. Besides you still owe me for this non-date.
DEVON: What do you have in mind?
She thought for a moment. There was something she’d been dying to ask Devon for help with . . . She bit her lip and contemplated a bit longer before quickly typing a response.
SAM: Soccer practice? Tomorrow morning?
DEVON: Only if you call it football.
SAM: Deal.
DEVON: What time?
SAM: 7 am. See you bright and early.
DEVON: Perfect it’s a date ;-)
SAM: It’s NOT a date! See you in the morning.
Sam was grinning. Tomorrow was going to be a good day.
Sophie
Sophie rolled over trying to read the caller ID on her cell phone. Who on earth was calling her at this hour? It was the middle of the night.
“Hello?” Sophie said groggily.
“Soph? It’s Molly.”
“Mol! It’s 1 am!”
“I know but this is important.”
“It better be.”
“You’ll never guess who I saw at my cousin’s wedding!”
“I’m not playing guessing games with you, Mol.”
“Devon!”
Sophie sat up.
“And guess who he was with?” Molly asked.
“Don’t tell me, that drab looking American, Samantha?”
“How’d you know?”
“I know everything, Molly.”
“So you don’t care that Devon’s dating someone?”
“Of course not. I broke up with him! But that doesn’t mean we’re going to let that little slut go unchecked. She needs to learn the order around here.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. So what’s the plan?”
“You’ll see.”
16
Sam
Sam was up at the crack of dawn. She was so excited to have an opportunity to get some soccer practice in that she couldn’t sleep. She dressed in her new pink sports bra and matching shorts, before pulling on a gray long-sleeved shirt that said, What’s Life Without Goals?—she loved puns, especially soccer puns. Sam quickly braided her hair and then searched for her phone to text Devon to see if he was ready.
She found it in her bed. It was dead. Damn it. She forgot to plug it in. That’s what happens when you fall asleep texting, Sam! Oh well, Devon was only across the hall. She’d just go knock on his door. Sam shoved her ball and some gear into her athletic bag and headed across the hall.
She knocked on Devon’s door.
No response.
She knocked louder.
Still nothing.
He better not have forgotten about her.
Sam knocked again, her temper rising. If Devon thought he was going to stand her up after she’d gotten all dolled up for him last night he had another thing coming. She’d march right in there and kick him out of bed.
She twisted the knob and the door swung open. It
was dark inside his room. And loud. What was that noise? It sounded like rushing water. Oh shit! It was the shower! Devon was in the shower! Naked. She was in Devon’s naked room. Naked Devon’s room. Devon was naked!
Sam’s brain seemed to be malfunctioning as the word naked lit up like neon lights in her head blinding out rational thought. She tried to escape from his room, but she kept trying to push his door open instead of pull. She heard the water squeak off and then the bathroom door opened.
Shit!
“Sam?”
Don’t turn, Sam. She turned.
He was frozen in the bathroom doorway, completely naked, holding a dark towel at his side. The lights were glowing behind him and Sam swore she heard angels singing as she drooled over his perfect glistening body. He quickly covered himself with the towel and took a step toward her. He was starting to say something when a giant beast skirted around him from somewhere in the bathroom.
All Sam could do was shriek and cover her face as the massive wolf-like creature leapt for her.
Devon
Devon was so shocked to see Sam standing in his room, for a moment he thought he was imagining it. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d dreamt she was in his bedroom. But when Eggsy charged out of the bathroom behind him he knew it was real. And his dog was about to tackle the girl he loved.
“Eggsy! No!” Devon hollered, but the dog had already launched himself at Sam.
She screamed and crumpled to the floor as Eggsy stood over her growling.
“Eggsy! Heel!”
The dog immediately backed down, but the damage was done. Sam was on his bedroom floor shaking as tears streaked down her face.
“Shite, Sam. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Devon asked kneeling down to inspect her.
“No!” she yelled. “What the hell is that thing?” she gasped glaring wide-eyed at Eggsy, who was now obediently sitting at the foot of his bed.
“My dog. I’m sorry. He’s not used to people sneaking into my room.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” she said indignantly. “I knocked.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. I was in the shower.”
“Clearly,” Sam said, averting her eyes as her face reddened.
Devon looked down and suddenly realized he was crouching in a towel that left him entirely too exposed in the front. He abruptly stood, adjusting the towel before offering Sam a hand up.”
“I’m really sorry, Sam. Eggsy doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just protective.”
“Tell that to my arm,” she whimpered, gingerly touching the gaping hole in her new shirt.
“Let me see.” Devon moved closer to Sam and Eggsy growled.
“Um, I think I’m fine. I’m just going to go back to my room now.”
“Sam . . .” But she was out the door before he could protest.
Devon shot Eggsy a dirty look. “Some wingman you are!”
The dog cocked his head like he didn’t understand. And clearly he didn’t, because now Sam was probably terrified of Eggsy. And rightly so.
Devon dressed quickly and left Eggsy in his room before dashing across the hall to check on Sam. She answered the door in her sports bra and his words evaporated. Then he saw the bright red mark on her arm.
“Shite,” Devon murmured. “That looks bad.”
“I’ll live,” Sam replied. “But my shirt . . . might not recover.” She nodded to the torn gray shirt on the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” Devon said again. “Here, I brought you some first aid cream. You should disinfect before applying it though.”
“Why? Does your hell hound have rabies?”
“He’s not a hell hound!” Devon argued, genuinely hurt that Sam didn’t like Eggsy. “Until you came along he’s pretty much the only one I had to talk to around here.”
Sam crossed her arms and gave Devon an unsympathetic look. “He may be a good listener but he murdered my shirt.”
“Go tend to your arm, I’ll fix your shirt.”
Sam stomped into her bathroom and shut the door. Devon found a pair of scissors on her desk and cut the sleeves off her gray shirt, turning it into a tank. It’s something he used to do to all his shirts during summer club, when it was too hot for sleeves. He wasn’t sure if Sam would like it, but at least the shirt was salvageable this way. Now, if only repairing her opinion of Eggsy were so easy.
Sam came out of the bathroom with a smear of first aid cream on her arm. Devon shook his head. She was helpless. “It’ll scar if you don’t protect it from the sun.”
She only shrugged.
Devon frowned. “You shouldn’t take skin cancer so lightly.”
Her eyes flicked up to his and they held each other’s gaze for a long moment, each thinking the same unspeakable truth—cancer was a likely possibility for their futures based on their parents’ history.
“Here,” Devon said softly. He held up a spare strip of sleeve as he moved toward Sam. She let him tie it gently around her arm.
Devon tried not to let his hands linger on her soft skin too long. It was bad enough he let his dog harm her. He didn’t need to accost her too. When the makeshift bandage was in place, Devon held out the rest of Sam’s shirt. “It’s the best I could do.”
“It’s great. Thanks.”
“Still up for football?” he asked, awkwardly.
“Absolutely!”
“Grand. Let’s hit the pitch?” he asked.
“You have an actual soccer pitch?” Sam asked, her eyes widening.
“Football,” he corrected. “And of course.”
She grinned.
“Come on.”
Devon led Sam and Eggsy through the gardens toward the football pitch he and his father had built when they first moved in. They’d always shared an admiration for the sport. And Devon had fond memories of kicking the ball around with his old man. He hated that soon that’s all they would be—memories. His father’s sporting days were over. Actually all his days would be over soon.
Devon tried not to let the heaviness settle in his heart. Today was for the living. And Devon intended to live. How could he not when he was spending the morning playing his favorite sport with his favorite girl? He looked over at Sam. She was keeping one eye suspiciously fixed on his dog.
“Did he have to come with us?” Sam asked shooting Eggsy a dirty look.
“Yes. I can’t keep him cooped up in my room. Which reminds me. Would you mind not mentioning what happened this morning? Cara hates Eggsy already.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Sam quipped.
“He’s a great dog. Please give him another chance,” Devon begged.
Sam huffed as she glared at Eggsy, who barked at her.
“He can tell you don’t like him,” Devon added.
“The feeling’s mutual.”
“Can’t you try to get along? I can’t have my two favorites fighting.” Devon knelt down next to Eggsy and whispered loud enough for Sam to hear. “We like this one, boy. She’s almost my girlfriend.”
“Don’t fill his head with lies!”
“Go give her a kiss, boy.”
Eggsy trotted over and started licking Sam’s arms. She rolled her eyes but Devon caught her slight smirk.
Sam
The rest of Sam’s morning went infinitely better than how it had begun. She and Devon played soccer for hours. They ran drill and scrimmaged, and even Eggsy got in on the action. He was a great out of bounds retriever. And he hadn’t displayed any more hell hound attributes. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. Sam actually loved dogs even though her father never let her have one. It’s just that Eggsy was the size of a small horse and he was kind of intimidating when he came bounding toward you— even if his tongue was lolling about like he just wanted to lick you to death.
Devon finally called quits, claiming he needed to get Eggsy some water. But secretly Sam thought it was Devon who needed the break.
“Tired?” she asked.
“Yes!” he admitted. “Missing camp this summer
has set me back.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Doesn’t look like it. You’re really good, Sam.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. You play like a guy.”
Sam glowed. That was probably the best compliment she’d ever gotten.
“You’ll have no problem making the team,” he continued.
“I hope so. It’s seriously the only thing I’ve been looking forward to about Eddington. Do you think we could keep practicing?
“I’d love to, but I don’t know how much time I’ll have once school starts up.”
“Well, we still have two days before school starts. Let’s make the most of them.”
“You don’t have to twist my arm. But let’s clear it with your father. He’s put a lot on my plate.”
“You let me handle my father.”
17
Sam
Unfortunately, Sam didn’t get a chance to test her powers of persuasion. She found out at lunch that day, her father was whisking Devon away to some software conference in London and they wouldn’t be back until school started. That pretty much left Sam stranded at the James’s Estate for the next two days. She hated not having a car—not that she’d even know where to go or have anyone to visit. She tried calling Megan, but she was already swamped with schoolwork. The only friend Sam had left to talk to was Eggsy.
Devon had asked her to take care of him while he was out of town. She’d agreed to feed him, but said there was no way she was going to let him sleep in her room. But, the first night Devon was gone, Eggsy howled so much that Sam ended up letting the stupid dog in her room. She told him he had to sleep on the floor, but when she woke up in the morning, Eggsy was sprawled out next to her. Damn dog.
It was surprisingly nice to have a companion though. Eggsy definitely wasn’t a hell hound. By the second day, he was following Sam around like it was completely natural. She even found herself talking to him.