Deadly

six - edited

Sam packed his boxes in the car and drove us back home.

"I can't believe I'm going to have my own room," he buzzed. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I had my own room? Man, and Mason's getting out of that crowd--it's a good day, don't you agree?"

"I do," I smiled, checking the time. "So you guys are going out tonight?"

"Yeah, Mason and Luke want to go to a bar, and I think Peter might join us. I'm not completely sure who all is going. What about you?"

"I'm going to dinner. Which means I won't be free to pick you up if you get completely wasted, so make good choices." I pretended to chastise.

Sam laughed, rolling his eyes. "Yes, ma'am." He stopped the car, trying to grab all his boxes as once. I reached for the one he was struggling to balance, ignoring the face he made and walking up the steps and into the house. "So are you going to tell me about this guy?" Sam asked as we set down the boxes and he began to open them.

"Sure, I can, but first, I need to take a quick shower."

--

By the time I was out of the shower, the familiar sound of rain could be heard hitting the windows. I went through my closet, looking at all my sweaters and a few of my dresses. With the heavy sound of rain, I decided a dress wouldn't be the smartest idea, and picked out my favorite jeans and a dark blue sweater.

"Sam," I said, holding two pairs of shoes in my hands. I turned the corner, not surprised to see Sam watching American Horror Story. "Really? Again?"

"It's one of the only good seasons," he replied absentmindedly, the intro to Coven playing on the screen.

"You're hooked."

"I wish I still was," he sighed, pausing the show and turning to look at me. "What's up?"

"Which shoes?" I asked, holding up the boots.

"The heels," and then: "That's a grandpa sweater."

"No it isn't."

"It totally is. The buttons that only go halfway up, the two pockets at the front. You're wearing a grandpa sweater."

I glared at him. "I will wear my grandpa sweater if I so desire."

He laughed, leaning back into the couch and hitting play. His phone began to buzz. "Okay, I'm out. Have fun on your date, make good choices." Sam stood up, pecking my cheek on his way towards the door. "I hope he likes your grandpa sweater."

"Get out!" I laughed, pushing him towards the door. Sam stuck his tongue out at me, grabbing his raincoat.

"I'll see you later," he smiled as he put on his coat. "Text me if you need me to come pick you up, or, you know, anything."