Page 36 of Sing it, Sam

“Same thing I’m doing now,” he says and shrugs.

“I’ll be back. We’ll finish the book.”

The smile that grows on his face, eventually showing his straight white teeth, is nothing short of magical.

***

A five o’clock, I pack up my desk and say goodbye to Kathleen. I buy a small pack of salt and vinegar chips from the vending machine in the dining hall, and then duck into the bathroom where I powder my nose, throw my long hair into a messy top knot, and put on some cherry lip gloss. It might be Thursday, but I have the Friday feels.

On my way down to room ten, I cross paths with Paige. For some reason, she winks at me as she passes. I have no clue why.

When I reach his room, I find Sam sitting up in bed. This time though, he’s propped up on top of the covers. A dark grey T-shirt hugs his chest, and black sweatpants sit low on his hips. White socks cover his generous-sized feet. His hair looks darker, as if he’s come straight from a shower. There’s a pinkish hue to his cheeks, which normally don’t house much colour.

I’m not blind. Sam Marshall looks yummy.Mouth-wateringly so.

As I approach, I take in a good lungful of air. The same earthy, spicy scent from lunchtime taunts me. It’s official. He looks as tasty as he smells.Do I tell him he looks and smells good?

I should. It’ll be good for his confidence.

He smiles and crosses his arms beneath his chest.

“Yummy,” I blurt out and then shake my head.

“What?” he says through a chuckle.

I fumble through my bag as I enter, reefing out the small bag of salty treats. “Brought yummy snacks. Sorry, little tongue-tied there. Long day.”

He nods. “Uh-huh. I’d say me too, but you know.”

“You got out of bed, got changed. Don’t discount that. Bet that took effort, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

I move the chair from the corner closer to the bed. “Then stop being so hard on yourself.”

“Can you sit up here?” he says, and pats the bed beside him. “My neck’s kinda sore from lunchtime.” Sam moves his neck from side to side.

“Oh yeah. Sure.” I put down my bag, open the chips and hand them to him. I slip off my shoes and prop myself on the side of the bed. I almost topple off, and over correct, which has me bumping shoulders with Sam.

“These beds are skinny,” I grumble.

“Yeah, I should put in a complaint,” Sam says and hands me the book.

“Ready?” I ask, opening up where we left off.

“Yup.”

With each few pages, I find myself snuggling deeper into the pillows, and closer to Sam.I don’t want this book to end. A settling warmth radiates from his body as we lie shoulder to shoulder, upper arm to upper arm, and thigh to thigh. It’s a wonder I can pronounce any of the words I’m reading with his body against mine.

After I narrate the final paragraph, Sam and I both sigh.

“It’s been so long since I’ve read a book,” he says through a yawn. “Thanks.”

“Well, technically, I read it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“The author is such a tease. I want more,” I say and pouting, turn to Sam, whose face is closer than I’d thought.

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