Trust Me

Chapter 10

Trust me Chapter 10

I left the police station furious.

With myself.

I should have handled that differently.

I pushed the front door open and stepped outside; I walked past the police department sign and tried to hail a cab, again. I whistled, waved my arms for a good five minutes before the car came to an instant stop. I let out a breath of relief and opened the door. Just as I opened the door someone else did too.

“What are you doing here?” We both said at the same time. I looked at Sam puzzled. He gave me a smirk then sat right inside.

“I’ll just get another cab.” I start to back away, but then I hear his voice.

“No, I’ll get another one, you take this one.” He got out of the cab.

“No it’s fine, I’ll just get another one.” I told him as I walked away.

“No, Amanda we can split a cab.” He shouted.

“Can you two make up your mind? I’ve got a busy day.” The cab driver complained.

I looked at Sam; I bit my lip, unsure. His eyes were pleading; I didn’t have the energy to defend why I shouldn’t ride in a cab with Sam, and so I just walked back and sat down. A few moments later Sam joined me.

I told the old cab driver Emma’s apartment complex, and Sam just said two words that couldn’t have stung more. Two words I didn’t want to hear, two words that were too early to mention. “Verizon centre.” The old man put the cab in drive, his thick fingers wrapped around the steering wheel.

I looked for a brief second at Sam, he looks tired. His face unshaven, his eyes did not dance with color like the last time I saw him. His lips began to chap.

His black leather jacket hung loosely over his hoodie. His jeans hugged him tightly. “So, what are doing here Miss. Murray?”

I didn’t want to say anything, because I knew I would have cried. I pulled out the black zip lock bag from my purse and handed it over to Sam.

His face said everything. Sorry. But sorry seemed like such a small word. Like it wasn’t big enough.

“I’m sorry Amanda, I should have-” He began, but I know what he was going to say, so I cut him off.

“It’s fine, really.” My voice came out more hushed then I thought, it sounded like a low whisper.

He didn’t believe me; I wish I could have believed myself to. He tenderly placed the bag on my lap. He gave a half smile.

“Going to practice?” I asked him, desperately trying to change the subject.

“No, I had that earlier today. I have a game.” He looked out the window. His lips made a perfect straight line. I nodded, I looked down at his left hand, and a deep scratch went from one side of his knuckles to the next.

“Are you okay?” I asked him, he looked at me bewildered, I gestured to his hand.

“Oh, I just scrapped it during practice.” He studied his hand, his brows narrowed. I lifted his hand closer to me and traced his scratch softly. His skin was rough, and cold.

“Band-Aids might be able to help.” I released his hand, he was looking at me, and he grinned.

“I’ll get a bandage before the game.” He placed his hand beside him, like it hasn’t been touched. I focused on the window, looking out into the city of Washington. I was fine, until I saw the bright lights of the Verizon centre.