Page 5 of Perfectly Wrong

To say I was shocked was an understatement for the expression on my face. Sam noticed right away, and to my great despair, he smiled that timid grin of his. He arched his brows ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, but adorably all the same.

“Thinking of you makes me restless / I get nervous when you look at me / Anxiety takes over / when you stand next to me.”

Let’s get things into perspective for a moment: I had a very nice guy in front of me—though he was only eighteen—on my couch, singing a song that was essentially about us, and I had absolutely no idea what to do, think, or say. He caught me completely off guard; I never expected this in a million years. And the worst part? He wouldn’t shut up. Sam Martin never shut the hell up!

“I talk way too much when I’m near you / I get embarrassed when your eyes are on me / But the thought of never having you makes me panic.”

His voice faded with the last notes of his guitar, and for what felt like an eternity, neither of us spoke. He looked at me anxiously, waiting for a reaction—a positive one, at that—to his latest masterpiece. I, on the other hand, stared at him in disbelief. Sam Martin had written a song about an innocent moment we shared, and if that wasn’t a sign that things were going awry, I couldn’t guess what was.

“So?” He broke the silence first.

I blinked a couple of times, trying to process the situation. “Listen, I want to explain the part where you said I asked my friends about you. That was professionally—”

“No need to explain,” he cut me off with a smirk. A tiny dimple appeared on his chin, and my eyes immediately went to it. “I just wanted to say I’ve been asking about you too. I mean, it’s not unrequited, you know?”

If I knew? IF I KNEW? Oh, my boy, you’ve completely lost it!

“Sam, there’s been a mistake!”

“There’s no mistake.” He set his guitar aside and knelt in front of me. “I know we’ve only just met, but we can take things slow.”

I jumped off the couch, moving away from him. That boy’s cologne was intoxicating, practically searing itself into my nostrils. It didn’t take long for me to realize I was panting, feeling a bit intimidated by the whole situation. Here I was, a woman ten years older than this boy, feeling like a deer in headlights.

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you insane?” I practically yelled. “Martin, there’s no chance in hell of us taking anything slow, even at the slowest pace for humankind.”

He looked surprised but also excited. “Really? I thought it’d be better for us, but I’m cool; we can go as fast as you want.”

My jaw dropped. That was definitely not what I meant. I could feel my whole face burning as I looked around for a way out.

“I need a drink.” I practically ran to the kitchen, with Sam following right behind me. The glass of wine I’d been drinking was still on the counter, abandoned when he interrupted me, and in a fit of despair, I downed it in one go. “There’s orange juice in the fridge if you want.” I rested my hands on the counter and closed my eyes, taking three deep breaths. My head was spinning, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the wine or the entire situation. When I turned back around, he looked offended. “What? You’re not old enough to drink. Not to mention, even when you’re sober, you cause way too much trouble.”

“All right, I get it already.”

“Jesus Christ, finally!” I threw my arms up, thanking divine intervention for bringing some light into his empty skull.

“I know it’s too much to take in, so I’m just going to let you think about it,” he said, moving even closer to me. My heart raced, and I tried to step back, but my back was already pressed against the counter. “Maybe the song was too much. It wasn’t my intention to frighten you; I’m sorry.”

His voice was soft as velvet, and his brown eyes searched mine with a mixture of interest and understanding. Sam gently brushed a lock of hair away from my face and tucked it behind my ear, stroking my cheek with his thumb and causing my skin to tingle. I could feel his breath on my lips, and for a split second, I thought he was going to kiss me. I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t enjoy it, but for God’s sake, he was only eighteen.

“I’ll see you later.” He kissed the corner of my lips, and I almost had a heart attack. Just when I thought that hurricane of a boy had finally left, he poked his head back into the kitchen with a smirk on his face. “Just so you know, Spanish wines are my favorite!”

With a wink, he left.

Chapter three

Spanish wine! Who the hell did Sam Martin think he was, sharing private information like that with someone he barely knew? What was wrong with him, aside from his obvious lack of judgment?

I was wandering through the aisles at Whole Foods, murmuring to myself, when I spotted him on the cover of a magazine. Sam’s smile could light up an entire town, and his jawline was ridiculously sharp. I overheard two teenage girls talking about how cute he was and how seductive his voice sounded, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Why was everyone so obsessed with him? He was just a pretty face with a thing for Spanish wine.

I ended up in the beverage section, and as I browsed, I noticed the Spanish wines. Even though I preferred Portuguese, I figured it couldn’t hurt to check them out. And yes, I threw two bottles of the Spanish ones into my cart. Deal with it.

Just as I was about to finish at the checkout, someone stepped up beside me, and I froze. I tried to get a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, but the guy was so tall I couldn’t see his face right away. But when his cologne hit me like a wave, I knew exactly who it was.

“That’s a good one,” he said, picking up one of the bottles I’d just bought. His voice was so close to my ear that shivers ran down my spine. “Not my favourite, but it’ll do.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’ve been waiting for some feedback on my song, which you never gave me.” Sam sounded a little frustrated. “So, I decided to come ask in person. Oh, let me help you.” He grabbed all the bags from my hands, and we walked out of the store. And let me tell you, we were lucky his fans didn’t spot him. I glanced up to offer a quick prayer of thanks, only to notice the dark clouds and feel the first few drops of rain.

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