The Almost Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Series Book 2) Page 8

  Devon glowed with laughter. “I didn’t think they called each other baby cakes and kitten while playing grab ass either, but I’m game if you are.”

  “That was a special circumstance. It falls under, friends have each other’s backs.”

  “There sure are a lot of rules to this friendship,” Devon teased.

  “Yeah, just remember the first one and we’ll be okay.”

  “Friends don’t kiss friends, I got it.”

  “Good, now take me shopping.”

  “Anything for you, kitten.”

  Sam dragged Devon up and down the multiple floors of Brown Thomas, her favorite department store in Dublin. She was grabbing everything from makeup to socks. She had a wardrobe to replace and was all-too-happy to put it on her father’s bill. It was the least he could do after uprooting her entire life.

  Devon was being a pretty good sport. He actually seemed to be having a great time picking on her fashion choices.

  “Blimey, could you look more American?” he teased when Sam picked out a pair of converse.

  “What’s wrong with these?”

  “Maybe nothing in Boston.”

  “Alright, Tim Gunn. What kind of shoes do the fairest Irish lasses wear?”

  “Try these,” he said pointing to a pair of uncomfortable-looking brown oxford loafers.

  “Ew! They’re hideous.”

  “They’re European.”

  “They look like boy shoes.”

  “No, they look posh. Unlike whatever these travesties are,” he said scuffing the toe of her Uggs with his own sophisticated oxford loafers. They did look really classy on him, actually.

  “Fine, but I don’t want plain brown ones.”

  “How about these?” Devon offered, pulling down a pair of blue suede oxfords with tiny silver studs all over them.

  “Oh! They look like stars,” she exclaimed running her fingers over the studs.

  “You have a thing for stars, huh?”

  “Who doesn’t love stars?” she asked gazing at the display shoes. They were her size! She sat down and slipped them on. The soft leather was surprisingly comfortable and the studs caught the light, making the shoes remind Sam of the night sky, alive with stars. She loved them. “Okay, these will do.”

  Devon smirked, triumphantly. “Now you’re a proper posh Dubliner.”

  “Come on, we’re not done,” she said, unwilling to let him win that easily.

  Sam dragged Devon to the lingerie department and went to work tormenting him. They were friends, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have fun, right?

  “Here, hold these,” she said handing him an armful of lacey bras.

  “This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Devon whined.

  “What? I need underwear,” she replied coyly.

  “I know, but do I really have to help you with the girly stuff?”

  “Well, I am a girl, you know? This is what happens when you’re friends with a girl. The girly stuff comes with it.”

  “I know you’re a girl, but you can’t buy girly stuff like this in front of me,” he said holding up a see-through bra.

  “Why not?”

  “Because, that’s something you do with your boyfriend. Not your friend. And you clearly stated we’re just friends.”

  “That’s right, but I said we’re friends that don’t kiss, not friends that don’t help each other shop for underwear.”

  “Studies show underwear shopping leads to kissing,” Devon said in his most proper warning label voice.

  Sam snorted. “Have you conducted these studies yourself?”

  “I may have,” he replied, giving Sam a wolfish grin.

  Damn! That was the kind of grin that could start forest fires—if forests were made of panties.

  Get it together, Sam. You’re teasing him, not the other way around. “Well, I think you’re wrong,” she mused.

  “Trust me on this, Sam. I’m not wrong. You’ll see.”

  “What if you were my gay best friend? Then this wouldn’t lead to kissing.”

  “I think we’ve established I’m not gay.”

  “You’re right, you don’t dress sharp enough.”

  “I do so! You’re the one dressed like an American.”

  “Oh, overly sensitive about fashion critiques . . . maybe it’s too soon to rule out the gay best friend thing.”

  “You’re impossible,” Devon muttered. “I’m beginning to see why you didn’t have any points in the boyfriend column.”

  “Oh, shut up and hold these,” Sam said piling underwear into Devon’s arms. “And if you don’t behave I’ll model them for you.”

  Devon looked like he was about to make a witty comeback when a girl called his name.

  “Devon James?”

  Sam and Devon turned their attention to a sales girl slinking toward them. She was about their age with a perfect figure and blonde hair in a pixie cut. Was every girl in Ireland adorable and blonde?

  “A new girlfriend so soon?” blondie asked Devon.

  “Hello, Tess,” Devon said politely. “This is my friend, Sam Connors.”

  “Samantha,” Sam corrected.

  “Right, sorry,” he added. “Samantha, this is Tess Jenkins. She’s in our year at Eddington.”

  Tess gave Sam an unimpressed once over. “You’re going to Eddington?” she asked raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

  Sam wished she’d changed into something cute she’d bought, but she was still in her stupid old clothes.

  “Yep. Nice to meet you.” Sam held her hand out and Tess took a step back with a huff, like the thought of shaking Sam’s hand was offensive.

  Tess shook her head at them and gave them a sour look, as if she and Devon were ruining the pristine atmosphere of the department store. Without another word she turned and sashayed away.

  “Wow! Eddington is seeming more and more like Stanton everyday.” Except Sam feared she was on the wrong side of the popular line here.

  “Don’t worry about Tess. She’s Sophie’s best friend. She doesn’t have an original thought in her head.”

  “Great, so now your ex’s fem-bot is going to report back that we were underwear shopping together! I don’t need to make enemies before I even start school, Devon.”

  He laughed. “Too late for that. If you’re friends with me, you won’t be making any friends. But don’t worry. I’m just as untouchable as I am hated.”

  Sam wasn’t comforted by that thought as she headed into the dressing room.

  Devon

  Devon tried to distract himself while he waited for Sam in the humiliating pink and gold chair outside the dressing room. But he was failing miserably. He was surrounded by women’s lingerie, and he knew at that very moment, Sam was trying on bits of lace and satin. It was making him sweat. He’d already stripped down to his t-shirt, but that didn’t seem to help, because his mind was still stripping Sam completely naked. The little minx! She knew exactly what she was doing to him.

  He tried to keep his mind elsewhere, but Devon knew nothing short of seeing Sam in her knickers would stop the intoxicating visions that kept erupting in his mind like erotic fireworks. Sam in lace. Sam in silk. Sam in his arms. It was torture.

  But he couldn’t leave. He was guarding her army of shopping bags. It baffled him how many things girls managed to need. If it were up to Devon, he’d live in his favorite red and white Arsenal jersey and a pair of faded jeans.

  Sam finally emerged and paid for her unmentionables. Devon gave a sigh of relief when they were finally back in his Defender driving home. Shopping had worn him out. Okay, maybe it was all the fantasizing about Sam in lingerie that wore him out. He needed to think about something else. Anything else. Because in Devon’s mind, he and Sam were still rolling around in the sheets as he tore off the layers of skimpy underthings she’d bought.

  “So,” he said. “I was thinking I could talk to Coach Tomlin for you. Maybe get a try out set up?”

  “You would do that for
me?” Sam asked, a hopeful grin illuminating her face.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Oh my God, Devon, I’d love that! Thank you,” she squealed and leaned over planting a light kiss on his cheek.

  Shite! All the work he’d just done to stop thinking about sex had been instantly undone with a brush of Sam’s perfect lips. The inside of the car suddenly felt like the sun and Devon couldn’t contain his smile. “I told you underwear shopping leads to kissing.”

  “What? That wasn’t a kiss.”

  “A kiss is a kiss, Sam. You just broke friend rule number one.”

  “That rule refers to kissing on the mouth.”

  “There sure are a lot of specifics to your rules. Perhaps you should write them down for me.”

  Sam whipped out her cell phone. “What’s your number?”

  “First kissing, now asking for my number? I knew I’d like being friends with you.”

  “Do you always have to be so narcissistic?”

  “Do you always have to be so flirtatious?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Number?”

  “Fine.” Devon rattled off his phone number and Sam put it in her phone. She continued typing furiously.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Texting you.”

  “Texting me what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  His phone buzzed with a message and he glanced at it while keeping one eye on the road.

  SAM: Rule #1: Friends don’t kiss.

  Rule #2: Friends don’t lick each other.

  Rule #3: Friends don’t shop for underwear together.

  Devon laughed and tossed his phone into the backseat. “That’s what I think of your rules.

  Sophie

  “What do you mean they were underwear shopping together?” Sophie practically shrieked into her cell phone.

  “I’m sorry, Sophie,” Tess said. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I thought you should know.”

  Sophie took a deep breath to steady herself. “Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.”

  “Soph! He was following her around like a lap dog carrying her bras and knickers!”

  “Well then, you know what this means,” Sophie growled into the phone. “Can I count on you?”

  “Always,” Tess replied.

  Sophie could practically hear Tess smirking through the phone. She smiled back. “See you at school, Tess.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Tess replied.

  Sophie hung up and threw her cell phone across the room.

  13

  Sam

  Sam was in much better spirits after her shopping trip with Devon. He helped her bring all her bags in and promised he’d call Coach Tomlin right away before he left to go join her father in Henry’s office. They apparently had been texting Devon about urgent business matters while he was chauffeuring Sam around Dublin. She apologized for keeping him, but he said she was currently his favorite brand of procrastination.

  She busied herself setting up her new room. Just because she had to live in a dusty old castle didn’t mean it had to feel like one. Cara had expressly told her to make herself at home that night at dinner—which ended up being just the two of them—awkward.

  Sam didn’t waste any time settling in. She switched out the heavy red and gold embroidered comforter for the fluffy white one she bought at Brown Thomas, and replaced the millions of ornate pillows with some new simple ones that she wasn’t afraid to lay on. They were all various shades of white or off-white. She bought a couple of those faux white fur rugs too and laid them around the room. Then, she strung the curtain of fairy lights she’d bought on the underside of the canopy above the bed. She lay on her back admiring them—her very own starry night sky. It really helped brighten the place up. She’d done the same thing in her old room in Boston, and it made her homesick.

  She sighed and decided to keep going until the transformation from castle to teen suite was complete. Sam set up her new Keurig coffee maker so she could at least enjoy coffee in the mornings. She’d been unable to find Pop-Tarts while shopping, but Devon had turned her on to his favorite breakfast bars, so she’d loaded up on them in the strawberry variety. After Sam finished setting up her vanity and desk she sat back on her bed to survey her work. It wasn’t home, but it was getting better. The walls were still bare, but Sam liked the soft stone gray color. And adding the new white bedding she’d bought made the bedroom feel more familiar.

  It was late by the time Sam finished sorting her new wardrobe. She collapsed onto her inviting bed to call Megan and fill her in on her day. But to her dismay, Megan didn’t answer. Sam glanced at the time. It wasn’t late in Boston. Maybe Megan was eating dinner? Or still at drama club? Sam couldn’t keep track. Damn time zones. She checked her emails, then Snapchat and Instagram. After exhausting all her options, she shut her laptop and lay back on her bed. She was tired, but her mind was still buzzing for some reason. It was probably jetlag or something.

  She found her mind wandering to Devon. She wondered what he was doing right now? She was strangely disappointed that he hadn’t shown up for dinner. Her father had probably dragged him into his computer geek vortex—a place where time didn’t exist.

  Sam actually felt bad for Devon. He didn’t look like the stereotypical nerds her father normally worked with. She snorted. Devon probably couldn’t be further from computer geek if he tried. He oozed European soccer-god—a fact that Sam sort of hated. Soccer boys were her weakness. Especially cute soccer boys.

  She picked up her phone, thinking about texting him. But when she saw the text she sent him earlier glaring back at her—the one with all the friend rules—she thought texting your friend in the middle of the night probably wasn’t a good idea. She hopped in the shower instead, eager to try out her new hair products. But even the scent of grapefruit couldn’t wash Devon from her thoughts. Damn him and his sexy soccer-god body.

  Sam slipped into her new pajamas—a stretchy white tank top and gray drawstring bottoms. Goodbye ugly nightgown! She was plugging her cell phone in when a text came through. Her heart skipped when she realized it was from Devon.

  DEVON: Hey Sam, what’s the rule on friends visiting each other’s bedrooms at night?

  Sam’s face flushed scarlet and she felt her blood rush to embarrassing places. Devon was right across the hall. If she said yes, he could be in her room in six seconds. Maybe less—his soccer-god body looked like it could move fast. Shit! Now she was thinking about his body again. This definitely was a bad idea. Today had been fun. Like, real, actual fun. She hated admitting that Devon was right—she did need a friend. And she hated admitting Megan was right—Devon was sexy and charming. But most of all she hated how scared she was of screwing everything up. How had this happened? She was losing focus already. Getting back to Boston was the only thing that mattered, and now because she was being a stupid girl and having stupid feelings, she was risking screwing it all up. She couldn’t let herself get attached to Devon. Inviting him to her room would only complicate things.

  Sam grabbed her phone and tapped out a reply.

  SAM: Rule #4: Friends definitely don’t booty call.

  DEVON: Rules were meant to be broken.

  A tingle of fear jolted Sam to her feet. She ran to her bedroom door and locked it. Then, she shut off her lights and hopped into bed, like a little kid afraid of the man in the moon. In Sam’s case, the man was Devon, and the moon was her big fat beating heart.

  Devon

  Devon sat in his room staring at his cell phone, but Sam didn’t respond. Damn him for getting his hopes up.

  What did he expect? Sam to run into his room and jump into his open arms?

  He’d dreamed it enough times that he could imagine exactly what it would be like. And thanks to her little shopping spree, he now knew exactly what lingerie she’d be wearing. And he couldn’t stop imagining all the ways he’d take it off of her.

  Awake or in dreams, Devon’s mind drifted back to Sam. In
his dreams, he told her he loved her and she said she’d never leave him. Then, they fell into his bed together.

  “Get a grip,” Devon scolded himself.

  He paced his room while Eggsy stared at him lazily from bed. “Don’t look at me like that,” Devon berated the dog.

  Eggsy was giving him that, You’re not going to do anything about it, look.

  “Maybe I will,” Devon retorted, realizing he sounded daft, carrying on a one-sided conversation with his dog.

  He opened his door and peered into the hallway. There was Sam’s door, taunting him. He could do it. Just a few short steps across the hall and knock on her door. Screw knocking. Maybe he’d just go in and surprise her. Christ, he could imagine her lying in her bed waiting for him in a pair of those lacey knickers she’d bought.

  Fuck! She’d scrambled his brain. He was thinking with the wrong head. He couldn’t just go charging into her room. She didn’t want him to come or she would have said so. Her text was a hard no. And it was driving Devon mad, because the more she said no, the more he wanted her. But deep down, he knew he needed to wait until he could win her over. He’d never force himself on her. He wasn’t the aggressive type, unlike half the blokes on his team.

  The other thing eating at Devon was that today had been the best day he’d had in a year. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled or laughed so much. Just being near Sam made everything better. And the last thing Devon wanted to do was muck it up because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. He needed to play it cool. He’d rather be Sam’s friend, than nothing at all.

  14

  Sam

  The rest of the week passed by in hours of boring monotony. Sam hadn’t seen much of Devon except for at breakfasts. He was always working with his father or hers. She spent her days reading through her course work and taking practice exams. When she wasn’t cramming for school, she was video chatting with Megan.