The Last of the Pure

Twenty-four

I woke up the next morning in the best mood I’d been in for weeks. I had my head resting on Sam’s chest, his hands resting on my back, and when I opened my eyes, his were still closed with this peaceful expression on his face.

We hadn’t stayed outside too long outside and after a pretty ridiculously fantastic few moments of him hovering over me, kissing me with those wonderfully soft lips of his, we’d gone back to listening to records in his study.

He was hell bent on making me listen to the Holy Modal Rounders, a very old folky type of band that I actually really enjoyed, and we’d spent the next few hours lying on the floor listening to their albums, talking and laughing until I finally fell asleep.

The room was silent now, but we were both still on the floor and something about waking up this way—even though he’d been sleeping in his bed with me every night since he’d found me—had my heart thudding frantically in my chest.

I disengaged myself from his hold, pulling myself up onto my knees and hovering over him. I pressed my hands onto his shoulders and gave him a hearty shake, shouting in the process.

“Wake up, sleepy Sammy!” I couldn’t help the giggle coming out of my mouth at this. “Wakey wakey, eggs-in-bakey!”

Sam’s eyes drifted open slowly, a small scowl taking over his features, and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

He sat up slightly, propping up on his elbows before reaching for the watch hanging from my neck and squinting to see the time.

“It’s not even nine,” he groaned, lying back down and stretching his arms over his head.

“Yes, but I’m awake, and you should be, too,” I said seriously.

I moved over to hover over him again, my fingers going to his sides and starting to tickle him, but he didn’t even flinch.

“Not ticklish,” he said flatly.

I made a pouty expression, but slid my fingers beneath his t-shirt, moving back up to his sides and tickling lightly with the tips of my finger nails.

Instead of laughing like I had expected, Sam jerked from underneath me, taking a deep breath as he sat up and scooted away, muttering, “Okay, don’t do that,” under his breath.

“Not ticklish?” I scoffed, looking at him with a mocking expression.

“Not ticklish,” he shook his head, his face serious. “That just felt a little too good.”

I felt my face flush as I comprehended what he said and muttered, “Sorry,” under my breath before standing up and heading for the door.

“I’m going to shower,” I said over my shoulder, feeling the need to not be in the small room with him, and rushed to the bathroom.

I got cleaned up and changed quickly, finding Samuel in the kitchen making coffee once I’d finished brushing my teeth and towel drying my hair.

I made us both breakfast, taking out the cookware I was sure I’d used more than Samuel and making eggs and pancakes for the two of us. His cabinets and refrigerator were pretty bare along the lines of food so I made do with what I had even if I did hate using Bisquick to make the pancakes—it just felt like cheating.

“You need to go grocery shopping,” I told him once we’d both sat down with our plates and our coffee.

“I’m not out of coffee yet,” he shrugged like this made sense and continued shoveling down his pancakes.

“I guess I’m probably the only one who needs to eat,” I chuckled. “I can figure something out.”

“We can go tomorrow,” he said, shaking his head. “I forget about necessities.”