Keeping the Bad Boy

Chapter 29

Sam wasn't in first hour and I began to worry slightly even though I knew good and well he could take care of himself. I miss him so much. I miss the true him, not the Sam I saw that day when he hurt Conner. After the bell rang for second hour to begin, I saw him emerge from Mr. Madison's classroom. I watched him as he swiftly moved to his locker and then slammed it shut. I flinch and take a step back, bumping into something small and fragile. I whip around to see Mrs. O' Neil standing behind me, a startled look on her face. "I am so sorry Mrs. O' Neil. I just got scared. Sorry," I say to her and hold onto her wrist to keep her tiny body steady. She is the smallest person I have ever seen standing a few inches shorter than me and as thin as a twig. "Yeah, well, everything in this hallway scares me. This is my free period and I usually walk behind Sam McGraw because he just pushes people away but he didn't come out the door so-" she broke off as someone shoved her. "Sorry!" they call back. Her words echo in my mind, he just pushes people away. "I know," I say and walk away from her.

I didn't get a chance to talk to him all day until after school. It's been almost two weeks since he kissed me and I can still taste his lips. He is leaning up against my jeep when I walk across the parking lot. He smiles and wraps his arms around me, lifting me onto my toes. He bends his neck down so his lips can reach mine. I run my fingers through his thick, silky hair. I feel him smile and he laughs into my mouth. I pull away from him. "What's so funny?" I ask. He shakes his head, a cute grin on his face. "No more than a month ago, I was so scared to touch you. I thought I would break you. And here I am, taking that risk," he says, looking into my eyes with his golden ones. His black hair was sticking up in places and his t-shirt was wrinkled. He looked like a little boy that had to take care of himself but didn't know how. He was a mess, but it was adorable. His face was all lines and angles, the slight curve of his cheekbone casting a tiny shadow on his strong jawline. I could tell he hadn't shaved in a while and his hands were scarred. I take one of them in mine and close it between my hands. They were so cold. He looked tired in the way he always looked tired. There was a darkness behind his eyes that I have yet to discover the source. His hands are gentle, but yet, could inflict so much damage. His touch was soft, but his muscles were tense as if he had been touched in a not-so gentle manner. I drop his hand and cup his face. He closes his eyes and sighs, rubbing his cheek against my hand, moving his lip to kiss my palm. "I wish you could come over," he says, opening his eyes and placing his hands over mine. "I'm not grounded anymore you know. Technically I could, I guess," I say and stroke his stubble-covered cheek with my thumb. My eyes begin to sting with tears, though I don't know why. A tear escapes down my cheek. Sam pulls my hands off his face and wipes my tears away with his thumbs. "I don't want to say goodbye, Sam," I say through an ugly sob. He chuckles and pulls me to him, resting my cheek on his chest right over his heart. He wraps one arm around my shoulder and the other around my head, his thin fingers stroking the hair on the top of my head. "We're going to see each other tomorrow, Courtney. You'll be okay," he whispers into my ear. Suddenly, I remember. . . "Sam, my parents are going out of town Friday. They won't be home until late Saturday night." I tilt my head up to look into his now shimmering eyes. "It's a date then."