Mixtapes & Polaroids | Sam x Deena

35

A few blocks away in the storm, the girl who signed her name was in her room. Restless as she watches the drops of water patter against her window, barely able to keep her concentration on the book in her hands. She's laid out on her stomach, grumbling at her messy mind as she collapses against the bed, face dug into the mattress as her door creaks open.

"Hey." Sarah walks in, dressed in a long sleeved turtleneck that skillfully hid her tattoos and tight dark jeans. Sam flips over almost in surprise, watching the blonde nudge the door shut as Sam wills herself to ask;

"How'd you get up?"

"Your mom let me in. Got the outfit on, I feel like a spy." Sarah chuckles, plopping down on the foot of Sam's bed.

"You clean up well." Sam notes, closing her book and setting it on the table as Sarah looks down at her outfit. It was so unlike her, but she enjoyed the little bits of dress up she had to do just to get to Sam. It felt like a game to her, anyway.

"Gotta play the part." She shrugs happily.

"So what brings you here?" Sam asks, but she's got a feeling she already knows. Sam scoots up until she can lean her back against her bed's headboard, watching as Sarah lays down by her feet.

"I want to know how you are." Sarah replies casually, turning her head to look at Sam who skeptically looked back.

"I'm fine, Sarah." She says quickly, but they were past shallow niceties. Sarah could practically pick her apart and put her together like a four piece puzzle with her eyes closed.

"We have all night, Sam." Sarah huffs, getting up to roam Sam's room. She goes to the shelves again, eyeing every book as Sam watches with a defeated sigh. If she knew she'd be thrown into an impromptu intervention maybe she would have locked her door.

"Cool room. Mine was half the size and it was painted this shitty teal color. I wanted to change it to gray but my dad says it's too dark. Bad for the mind or some shit." Sarah laughs, going to sit by Sam's desk as she fiddles with the few things littered upon it.

"How does that even make sense?" Sam asks, trying to keep the actual conversation at bay as Sarah shrugs.

"I don't know. He was big on positivity which is pretty ironic considering we live in Shadyside." She replies, flipping through a few of Sam's school notebooks.

"I hate the color of my room. It feels... empty." Sam mumbles, looking around the cream colored walls. She's always wanted to change it, to make it feel more like home— even when she knew that was the last thing she'd get in a house like that.

"You could look at it like that or you could look at it like it's just bare. Full of opportunity." Sarah spins the desk chair to look at Sam, who only cringes at her words.

"I think I threw up a little in my mouth."

"Sorry, force of habit. Next time i'll sew you a nice bible quote on a throw pillow." Sarah fires back teasingly, and it takes everything in Sam not to completely show her disgust.

"And I will throw that pillow in the trash."

"Harsh much?" Sarah laughs and for the first time in days, Sam smiles. It's small and barely noticeable but it's there.

"I'm guessing you're here because of what happened at the party?" Sam finally asks, thinking to get it over with like ripping off a bandaid as Sarah hums in thought.

"Well, yes and also Kate kind of hates my guts right now so i'm giving her space. Getting out of the house as much as I can." She shares casually, but there's a look on her face that was so much more than just a passing remark.