Page 8 of Surviving You, Scotch and Sammy 1

– Sammy –

Notice Me!

I need Turner to ask me to tutor him. He needs to ask me without me mentioning it first, and he needs to offer to pay me, though of course I’ll tell him I’m happy to do it for free. That way, when my parents ask, I won’t have to lie.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my house, it’s how to jump through hoops and lie without lying.

Ha! Maybe I do have a promising future as a lawyer. Something to fall back on if social work doesn’t pan out, I guess.

I walk into my school library on the Thursday afternoon after Dixies, and I hide between the stacks as I peek between the gaps and spy on him. His head is bowed low over his work books. He actually looks quite miserable. He’s a creative soul; music, writing, outdoorsy, long wild hair that refuses to conform, and leather bands that constantly draw my attention to his muscular forearms. If that boy ever decides to become a corporate lackey, I’ll eat my shoes.

I sneak into the next row and gain a few extra feet closer. My plan is to be perusing the books, and for him to notice me. He seems to notice me every other damn day in every location I ever happen to be in, but since I’ve made a plan to make it happen, no doubt I’ll probably become invisible to him.

I wander past Emily Bronte and Ernest Hemingway, then sidle up closer to Umberto Eco before I realize I’m holding my breath and starting to get dizzy. I’m an idiot.

Notice me.

His head stays low and his hair hangs in his eyes as he flicks his pen on the textbook to his right.

Notice me.

He flicks the pen between his fingers like a drum stick, unconsciously creating a beat that is surprisingly fluid despite the fact he seems to be engrossed in his notebook.

Notice me!

I should have worn perfume or something today, something to engage his other senses to get his attention.

Notice me.

I softly hum a tune and try to make it sound as natural as possible, though I know I can’t sing and I don’t even remember three-quarters of the words. I should be embarrassed. Turner is a singer. I tend to sound like a drowning cat.

Notice me!

“You keep creeping on my boy like that, and I’ll assume you have a crush.”

I squeal and spin around fast, coming face to face with Angelo Alesi as he leans down close to where my ear was a moment ago. He chuckles softly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sammy?”

I hang my head low as the blush rushes to my cheeks. Angelo chuckles at my mortification, then I turn slowly, coming face to face with Turner as his proximity essentially encases me in a hot guy sandwich.

“I guess my work here is done then.” Angelo clears his throat in an attempt to swallow his laughter, then he wanders away without a backward glance, leaving us alone with an awkward silence snuffing the air from my lungs.

“Are you okay?” He steps closer to me, drawing my gaze to the slight stretch in the fabric of his shirt across his chest. “You screamed like a dog was ripping your leg off.”

“Ha.” How embarrassing. “I’m fine. I was looking…” I take a step back, then picking up the first book I can reach, I read the title; The Silence of the Lambs. I stifle my groan, and hold it against my chest like a shield. “I was looking for this book, but Angelo scared me.”

Turner’s eyes follow my hands and stop on my chest as a smile quirks his lips. “You like that book?”

“Me?” I lift it between us, awkwardly shuffling it around like it’s the grand prize in a showcase competition. Jesus, I’m an idiot. “Sure. I love this stuff.” Lie! Scary books and movies are so low on my list of crap to do in my spare time, shoving my bare hand into a supercharged wood chipper actually rates higher. “Yeah. But I forgot I already read it before, so,” I shove it back in the racks, “I don’t need it again.”

He leans toward me, brushing his arm across mine as he reaches out and picks it up. He flicks though a few pages as he smiles that hot smile he does. “Okay. Well.” He turns and tosses the worn book to the desk a couple feet away, then he turns back to me and steps closer, forcing me to lift my face to maintain eye contact. “How you doing today, Sammy? Having a nice day?”

Step one. “Sure. It’s just a regular day.” I nod over his shoulder. “You still having trouble in math?”

He nods softly. His eyes rake my face and follow the long strands of hair down over my shoulders. “Math is a pain in my damn ass, Sammy.”

“Hm. That sucks. Maybe you should get a tutor or something.”

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