Page 39 of Unloved

It’s late. Samuel’s asleep and I’m not really comfortable with him driving while he’s tired.

My eyes flick to the top of the screen and see that it’s three fifteen in the morning.

“It’s okay,” I say, hoping I’m whispering. “The drive isn’t too long.”

Rhys grabs my forearm, his eyes pleading with me. He releases his hold on me and quickly types out another message.

I’ll get Samuel up and you can both sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.

I don’t want to kick him out of his bed.

Taking my silence as an answer, Rhys gets up from beside me and starts waking Samuel up, gently tapping his shoulder, and I assume from the movement of his mouth, calling his name.

Eventually, Samuel’s eyes open and he’s shocked to discover he’s fallen asleep on the couch. He rubs a hand over his tired face before looking at me. Half asleep, his mouth moves and then he remembers and shakes his head apologetically.

That one slip changes my mood entirely, the whole day falling heavy on my shoulders, the ground like quicksand, dragging me down.

I want to go home.

“I can drive us home,” I say, and Rhys lifts his phone up in the air as if he’s reminding me of his earlier suggestion.

“We’re not going to let you sleep on the couch in your own house.”

At my words, the remaining haze of sleep lifts from Samuel’s eyes and he looks between us. Rhys shows him his phone and understanding dawns on him.

I don’t miss the subtle sway of his body when Samuel pushes to his feet as his eyes dart across the screen, and guilt blooms in my chest. He’s been running himself ragged, staying up every night with me, driving himself home and waking up early for practice every other day of the week.

While my college life has been put on pause, he’s trying to keep his ducks in a row to ensure he graduates at the end of this college year and balances life with an emotionally unstable best friend.

All of this makes me concede.

We could sleep here and get a few extra hours instead of him driving me and then himself home.

Will it be awkward? Probably.

Have Samuel and I ever slept in the same bed together? No. He’s big on boundaries; boundaries that are no longer existent.

“Okay, fine.” I turn to Rhys and then look back at Samuel, who is obviously too tired to deal with my indecisiveness. “But we’ll get out of your hair first thing.”

14

SAMUEL

Lennox and I are standing on either side of Rhys’s bed, just staring at each other. It’s not awkward, but something isn’t right. When Lennox doesn’t speak, I grab my phone off the nightstand, but he shakes his head, stopping me.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, answering my unspoken question. “Well, not exactly. I just feel bad that you’re so tired and he’s sleeping out there alone. Isn’t it ridiculous that I don’t want him out there sleeping alone?”

It isn’t ridiculous, because I had that exact same thought as he walked us into his room and then walked out without us. Grabbing my phone, I round the bed and sit on the edge of the mattress in front of Lennox. My body aches with exhaustion and my mind is still tired and sludgy, and maybe that’s why I truly don’t think before I grab his hand and slide his fingers between mine.

His eyes widen at the gesture, because the last time we were like this, he was injured and scared. This is not like that. With my gaze still on his, I bring his hand to my mouth and gently kiss the top of it. I hear the hitch in his breath and know there’s no turning back now.

I let my eyes roam over him in a way that tells him exactly what I’m looking at and just how much I’ve always loved what I see. He is beautiful, in all the ways I never knew a man could be. Perfectly shaped lips, defined cheekbones, and eyes that have lived a thousand lives.

Soulful eyes that I want on me inthislifetime.

“Sammy,” he whispers.

The nickname alone has me under his spell. I let go of his hand and bring both of mine up to cup his face. His tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip, and it’s like the strike of a match, igniting a flame between us.

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