Samantha Routledge is a fellow Pogue, and the younger sister of John B. Granted John B is only 10 months older; they are both the children of Big John Routledge but have different mothers. Sam's mother lives next door to Luke Maybank and JJ, so Sam...
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Talk about a tease. I watch as Sams body sways in her tight dress as we move outside, into the garden full of overdressed kooks. I finally caught up with her after making sure my pants were back on properly. The music pumping through the speakers, as I pick up a tray to at least look like I'm waiting. Sam doesn't hide her laugh when Popes unexpected presence scares the shit out of me.
"Dude, don't sneak up on me like that right now." I calm down when I realise it's my friend and not one of Rafes goons. He quickly wraps his arms around me, making me a bit taken back by the sudden physical touch. "Woah. Unexpected PDA there, Dr. Spock. But, uh, hey, I love you too, man." I pull away before slapping a peck on his cheek.
"Hey, stop trying to steal my mans, Pope." Sammy teases, grabbing a drink off a table near us. I send her a wink as she sips on the glass of expensive champagne.
"I'm sick of all this shit, man." Popes upset demeanour doesn't change as he rambles.
"You're sick? You don't seem sick." I joke, feeling his temperature which makes him slap my hand away. My girl simply enjoys her stolen drink as she watches the two of us.
"I'm sick on the inside."
"Right. Well, I already knew that." My comment doesn't ease him at all.
"I'm getting sick of this party." Sam mumbles, looking over at all the people we hate polluting the area.
"We will get out of here in a minute, Sweetheart. There's just one thing I have to do first." I try not to tell her what it is, knowing how much she despises the certain blonde kook princess.
"Did Shoupe do that?" Pope interrupts me again, pointing to the injures now covering my face.
"This? No, this is, it's my dad. You know? Has that right jab. Can really snap it off at times." My body relaxes when Sam slips her hand in mine, giving it a comforting squeeze. She knows about this better than anyone else in the group, and she knows how hard it is to talk about. A lump gets caught in my throat when Pope's face drops.
"It looks like more than a jab, bro." He tells me, with concern written all over his face. When I just shrug, he looks to my girlfriend for some kind of reply. She simply shakes her head, not wanting to comment on my situation.
"Nothing that hasn't happened before." I try my best to make sure my voice doesn't come out shaky.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you take the fall for all this. It's my fault!" Pope immediately blames himself as the guilt consumes his whole manner.
"No, it's not." Sam and I say at the same time, trying to shut down his grief.
"It's my fault." He continues, making me shake my head.
