Chemistry (Sam x Colby)

Colby - "Note Book"

I understood the fact that Sam was overwhelmed, considering the fact, that he and, a person who he had started talking to about a week ago, were half naked in his bedroom, but it was kind of funny at the same time. He was trying to hide it, but his face was going as red as a tomato, he was breathing strangely and he was stuttering.

I strolled over to the pile of clothes I had left on his floor and picked out my shirt. I threw it on, did the same with my jeans, and looked over at Sam. I guess I should've asked if I could before I did, because I turned around and immediately noticed that he was wearing a tight pair of trunks and nothing else. He must've been looking at me as well, 'cause he realised, covered his shorts with his pyjama shirt, and said that he was going to go have a shower.

So there I was. Alone in my friend's room. Unfortunately, my guilty pleasure is snooping, so I locked eyes with his desk draws and started pulling them open, attacking like a big-cat.

The only things I found for ages, were polaroid pictures of Sam and his friends, taken like they were teenage girls in two thousand and nine. However, almost purposfully buried under old work sheets and rubbish, was a small note pad. It was a clear-ish, cloudy blue, and had a moon sticker on it. I grabbed it, flicking through the pages, and I noticed a few similarities with them, they all had dates. Starting late last year, Sam had been writing short diary entries, giving a brief summary of his day, and drawing a little picture that matched. They were small, talking about who he hung out with, or what he had for dinner. They seemed useless and tiny, but he had surprised me before.

I read a few, but nothing was very interesting... until I got up to the date that Sam had broken up with his girlfriend. I honestly hadn't expected him to of initiated the breakup, he always seemed so polite to her. After that page, he had started writing less, every second day, every third day, every fifth day... until he got up to late Monday. The day we properly met.

"I'm back, back to living a fun, and sort of entertaining life. I met a guy today, Colby Rock, and he was-"

"What are you doing?" The mini blue booked was snatched from my hands by it's owner, who was now in a casual shirt and tracksuit pants. Why didn't I hear him get out of the shower? "That's my dia-," he paused and took a deep breath, "that's my book, don't do that again, please." He grabbed all of the stuff that I had pulled out the draws in a fistful, and threw them into it forcefully, clearly trying to relieve some pent-up anger.

I creased my eyebrows in sympathy, "I'm sorry, I didn't realise..."
"Didn't realise what? That I like personal space and privacy?" He didn't yell, but he talked strong, getting the point across. I looked at my feet, rubbing them against the carpet in the awkwardness. "Did you read anything?" Sam sighed, moving closer so I would look at his dusty blue eyes.

"Well, my name isn't "Colby Rock", it's "Colby Brock"." He looked at me let out a short breathy laugh. "I'll make sure to change that, Mr. Brock." He looked like he was going to say something else, opening his mouth hesitantly, but he shut it again, seemingly ignoring the thought.