Mean Girl Tendencies

24|"Can I at least put some pants on?"

The tires make a screeching noise, on my Mercedes convertible, as I pull up in front of Sam's house. Or should I call it Sam's whore house. Sam's grandfather grew up poor, and rumor has it he got all of his money from being the biggest pimp this side of the east coast. But apparently they went "legit" and now Sam's family produces some bullshit good that people can't live without and now they're stinkin' filthy rich. Maybe even richer than me.

The people at the gate knew who I am, but they still stopped me and asked for my I.D. That pissed me off! I mean they know who I am by now, and they're stalling very important business I need to deal with!

I grab my keys out of my purse and storm into Sam's house. It's easy to get in because duh, I have a key. Sam gave me one when he would get... sad. Just in case anything would happen.

The door slams open. "Sam!" I roar and my voice bounces of the very modern house. They have large windows and steel everything. Steel appliances, steel decor, steel light figures. They probably even have steel furniture. The house is basically like living inside a robot.

This house only has two floors compared to mine, but it's very large in width. Everything in this house is so spread out, which I hate because it would take me forever to get from the living room to the pool room.

I march up the stairs and basically knock down his bedroom door. It wasn't locked or anything because I know he wasn't expecting guest. But now he's got me, bitch.

The two sluts that were on top of him jump up in shock. Sam just leans his head back and groans. "What the hell Aurora." He mumbles.

"Get out!" I scream at the girls, and they look at Sam for permission. I roll my eyes. "If you don't get out right now I'll drag you by your nasty ass extensions and throw you out the window."

The girls shriek and they rapidly hop out of the bed dragging along Sam's silk bed sheet with them.

"Sam what did-"

"Hey!" He stops me. "Can I at least put some pants on?"

I grab some sweatpants from his floor and throw it at him. "There's nothing there that I haven't seen before."

"Well you tend not to like what you see, so out of the kindness of my own heart I decide to put it away."

I growl at his carefree sarcasm. "I don't have time for this. The cops came to my house asking about Francis!" I can already hear the desperation in my voice and feel my eyes popping out of my head.

The irritating little smirk on his face goes away, and he goes straight into denial mode. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I glare at him. "Yes you do! And I want to know why?" I scream at him.

"Aurora, I have no-"

I grab some pencils that he had off of his desk and start throwing them at him. "Yes-" I pelt him with one. "you-" I throw three more. "do!"

"STOP IT!" His voice goes very deep, very chilling, and very loud. He stands up so fast and snatched the wrist of the hand that had all the pencils in them. "Why would you think me of all people would go to the police about him?! Huh!?" His eyes had this crazy rage in them.

Trust me I've seen Sam in all different types of ways. I've seen him depressed, sad, horny, sweaty, happy, drugged, crying, laughing, sobbing, even dead. But I've never seen him angry. Never.

The pencils slips out of his hand, and he doesn't break eye contact with me. I can sense all the pain and I just can't hold it in any longer. I start bawling my eyes out, and my body goes limp against his. "I'm so sorry Sam. I'm so so sorry."

I can feel his ragged breathing while my heads on his chest. His bare arms wrap around me. "It's okay."

He leads me to his bed and he gently leans against the backboard with me in his arms, sobbing. "Y-you shouldn't be comforting me. I-I should be comforting you, Sam."

He doesn't respond. We've only held each other once like this before. And to make this situation even more like a movie it begins to rain.

We didn't touch each other when Sam came out of a photo shoot. Definitely never a photo shoot.

We didn't touch each other when I found out what was really going on.

We didn't touch each other when Isabella told us what she did.

We didn't touch each other when we helped her bury the body.

We didn't touch each other when we walked in on her blowing her brains out.

We didn't touch each other at her funereal.

The only time we've ever hugged each other was when Sam died, and I watched it happen.