Lucky In Love- A Sam and Luna Fanfic

Lucky In Love- Story 1, Chapter 5

LUNA'S POV

The sun is slowly sinking towards the horizon, yet it's too early to call it a sunset just yet. Me and Sam resume our conversation outside, alternating between telling one another stories.

"... and this man pulls off his disguise and it's..." I pause for dramatic effect. "... the Mick Swagger!" Sam's eyes widen in shock. "No way! How do you manage to keep running into him?" I shrug my shoulders, gazing into the foggy expanse of Franklin Avenue.

"So... what did you do once he revealed himself?" Sam is giddy with excitement, unaware that I'm about to disappoint her. "I fainted." I state, immediately breaking into laughter. For a moment, Sam looks crestfallen, but she quickly joins in on the laughter. "Seriously? You didn't even get a word in?" she asks, and I shake my head. "Does stuttering count?" I question grinning. "Not even close, dude." she states, playfully nudging me. I crack a small smile. "You don't understand, I ate his fries, Bro!" Me and Sam burst into fits of laughter.

Once our laughter ceases, Sam turns to me, giddy with happiness. "Did I ever tell you the story of how my dad and I got stranded in the middle of the lake at Tall Timbers Park?" I shake my head, a large smile framing my face. Sam launches into her story, and we continue to laugh and converse openly, the fog shrouding us like a veil.

Twenty minutes later, I'm recounting a story to Sam. "So then, I changed my mind and decided to re-enter the Royal Rumble." I state, expecting to gain an excited response from Sam, but instead I hear a weak stutter to my right. "T-that's great, bro."

I turn to see Sam exhaling into her clasped hands and shivering violently. Her breath clouds the air with each exhale. As I register the temperature, I'm aware of a considerable drop since we left the house. I recall that my Mick Swagger sweatshirt has a lack of pockets, and my heart sinks. What is wrong with you, Luna? I question myself sternly. Sam is freezing to death.

My fingers felt a little dumb themselves. Though my sweater from Aunt Ruth has pockets, I refuse to place my hands within them, for fear that there might be something grotesque down there. "A-are you cold?" I stupidly question Sam. The answer is plainly obvious. Sam nods her head feebly.

"H-Here," I whisper, placing a hand on Sam's and grasping it tightly. I draw her hand closer to me, our cold fingers clashing with one another. Sam stares at me, warm air billowing from her slightly open mouth; a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. Though I had held Sam's hand multiple times through the course of this afternoon, this particular moment of contact sends shivers up my spine. Mind you, this is a foreign and strange shiver; not caused by the cold at all. Sam tightens her grip on my hand reassuringly, and I feel my face flush. I turn to see Sam smiling shyly in my direction. I return the smile, no longer fazed by the cold.

The two of us continue our trek up the street, the town hall a landmark in the distance. The first few minutes are spent in silence, Sam's shivers having ceased considerably. We pick back up our conversation, occasionally switching the hands that are being held to ensure equal warmth. The sounds of live music and hearty cheers increase to a crescendo as we near the town hall, to the point where I have to shout to be heard. A small stage sits on the lawn outside the town hall, many colors illuminating the surrounding area.

"So, where do you wanna go?" I shout, and Sam shrugs her shoulders feebly. I scan the many heads around me, searching for a sign of Lori's blonde hair or Bobby's black hair. I tighten my grip on Sam's hand, forcing the two of us through the crowd. I've had practice meandering my way through tight crowds during concerts, so this is a sure breeze for me.

We reach the second row just as a young couple finishes performing their adaptation of a romantic song. Moments later, Mayor Davis of Royal Woods enters the stage, positively beaming. Once the applause dies down, she clears her throat with a polite "hem hem".