Page 2 of Surviving You, Scotch and Sammy 1

We’ll work out the rest after that.

– Scotch –

One Hundred and Fifty No’s

“You should come party at The Shed this weekend, Ricardo. The band’s playing, then we’re just gonna hang out for a bit.”

She closes her locker with a loud snap and turns back to me with the same smile I’ve coveted for three years already; equal parts mischief, and flirty rejection. Her hair hangs loose over her shoulders, and her eyes shine like it’s the middle of summer and we’re standing in the sun. “No thanks, Turner.”

I step closer, forcing her face to lift to mine or stare at my chest. “I’ll write you a song. Then I’ll sing it in front of everyone so they know you’re mine.”

“People already think we’re together!” She laughs. “The girls are so jealous of me. They’re lining up for your attention, dreaming about the day the hot front-man asks them to prom, yet you continue to ignore them and pester me.”

I step another inch closer and force her back against the lockers. I take a lock of her silky hair in my fingers, and I bring the long strands up to my face. It’s so soft and smells amazing. I look back into her eyes and smile at the smoldering I know I see in them. She isn’t unaffected by me. “So, you acknowledge I’m hot?”

She glares and purses her cherry red lips. I’d die to kiss them. I’m close enough that I could easily do it if I was a less patient man. Soon. Our time is coming, I know it is. “One date, Sammy. One night and you’ll never look at another guy again.”

She tsks lazily and shakes her head. “My folks won’t let me party with you, Turner. Not a chance in hell. You’re best to find a different girl to fall in love with. I’m unavailable.”

“But I love you.” Oh. Yeah. I already told her that. Last Valentine’s Day, in fact. She didn’t say it back, nor did she ask me to be her Valentine, but she’ll always be mine.

I tell her I love her maybe once a week. Any more than that might come across as stalkerish, and I don’t want any harassment cases – so until she’s legitimately mine, I’ll say it when I can get away with it, and I’ll say it every single day under my breath. She doesn’t say it back and she doesn’t believe me, but I’m working on it. “One date, Sammy. I wanna show you a good time. Show you what the rest of your life is gonna be like. I’ll treat you like a queen, I swear.” I flash her what I’m sure is my most charming smile, the one I reserve solely for her. Yet she still shakes her head.

“Do you even know what a poker face is, Turner? What it’s like not to show your hand or wear your heart on your sleeve?”

I lean down closer, too close, but not close enough. “Not as far as you’re concerned. No games, Ricci. This is too important.”

“Geez.” She rolls her eyes and turns away, but I don’t miss the way she looks me up and down. I know she likes me. I know she wants this, but what I don’t know is what’s stopping her. “You’re good. Smooth. And you’re setting me up for a world of disappointment when my future boyfriends aren’t half as suave as you.” She takes a step away. “I’ll see you next week.”

I catch her pinky finger with mine before she escapes. “No, Sammy. Not next week. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be in for my usual.” I bravely lean forward and drop a soft kiss on her cheek. “Sleep tight.”

She rolls her eyes, but she clutches her books to her chest and walks away with a beautiful blush marring her cheeks.

***

I kick down the stand on my bike and walk into my mom and dad’s garage an hour after school. I smile at my best friends and band mates.

Luca laughs arrogantly as he takes a seat at the drum kit he worked three summers to buy. “She turned you down again.” He shakes his head and spins his drumsticks skillfully in his hands. “What’s that, like, the hundredth time in a row?”

He’s actually pretty damn close. I’ve asked Sammy Ricardo out every single Friday for the last three years. Today makes more than a hundred and fifty No’s. But she’s getting less sure about it. I can feel her hesitance.

I watch her walk the halls five days a week with her girlfriends. I see her check me out, and the best part yet, I don’t see her dating anyone else. I made my claim her first day in this place, and so far, no one has challenged it – except her. Until she’s married to someone else, and maybe even after that, she’s mine and I’ll continue to ask her out.

Saturdays, she works at Dixie’s ice-cream parlor, and the guys and I are in there buying what we can afford, and, in my case, tipping even when I can’t afford it.

She’s already my responsibility.

Luc stomps his foot down on the kick drum to get my attention. “Well?”

I shrug. “She said no, but there’s always next week.”

“You know, you could probably just ask another chick,” Marcus suggests as he plugs in the amplifier in the back corner. Marc and Luc are a few years younger than Ang and I, but Marc is essentially my foster brother, and I love him like I love my own family. Luc on the other hand, is like a stray cat. He was just a kid from up the street that smelled my mom’s brownies one day and he never left.

I shake my head in answer. “There are no other chicks, Marc. There’s just Sammy.”

“I just don’t get it,” Luc complains. “There are a million chicks in the world. Why her? Why not Whitney or that chick Sassy? They’re both always panting after you, and they’re hot as shit.”

“So, you can have them.”

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