“You don’t like it?” I ask, swiping the back of my hand over my mouth, smearing the red lipstick as I try to rub it away.
“Listen, you asked what I thought and I’m telling you.” He leans down so we’re eye to eye. “You’re beautiful, Stella, all on your own, without a lick of makeup. All you have to do is smile, and you’re the prettiest girl in the room.”
I don’t know why, but it feels like I’m melting. “Samson…”
He takes a step back. “Stella?”
“I like you.”
He lifts a brow. “I like you too, Luna.”
“No, I like-like you.” I wrap my arms around myself. “A lot.” I want to tell him I love him, but I don’t want to freak him out.
“Oh, Stella.” He shakes his head. “You’re too young for all of that.”
I jump from the swing so quick, the chains rattle. “I am not!”
“Don’t be mad, Luna.”
“I’m not mad.” I blink up at him, tears filling my eyes. “I’m sad.”
He wraps me in a hug. “Don’t be sad either.”
“But you don’t like me back.” My voice comes out muffled from the way my cheek is pressed against his chest.
“I like you just fine, but I’m way too old for you. You’re in middle school and I’m almost twenty. You’re still a kid—and before you get all pissy, I’m not saying that in a bad way, okay? You’re young. You still have a lot of growing up to do. So, instead of worrying about me, just enjoy being a kid while you can. Because me?” He squeezes me closer before stepping away. “I’ll always be here.”
“Always?”
Samson cradles my cheeks and wipes away my tears.
“Yeah, Luna. Always.”
For the next two years, I tried my hardest to do what Samson told me—to just enjoy being a kid. And for the most part, I think I did.
But the flame I carried for him never died. If anything, it grew stronger and stronger, until finally it was a full-blown wildfire.
And what do wildfires do? They spread.
The change in Samson was subtle at first, as the embers grew.
One day at the lake, his stare lingered.
When he’d hug me, his hands would sit a little lower and he’d hold me a little longer.
Finally, I’d had enough and decided to try my luck again. After all, the worst he could say was no, right?
Like always, we were out on the porch swing, except this time it wasn’t late at night and Orion wasn’t boning some random girl. This was just your run-of-the-mill Saturday afternoon.
“You look like something’s on your mind?” Samson asks, using his long legs to push the swing.
I know he’s probably going to shoot me down, but after listening to all the girls at school go on and on about how amazing it is, I know he’s the only person I want to experience it with.
“Will you be my first?” I ask, nerves rolling through me like thunder.
Samson’s fingers flex as he balls his hands into fists. “Cut it out, Luna.”
“Jesus, Samson.” I turn away from him, too prideful to run away, even though that’s all I want to do. “You don’t have to be so mean.”
He sighs, and it sounds almost like he’s in pain. “You’re too young for all of that.”
“All of what?”
“Fucking. Screwing. Sex. Whatever you wanna call it, you’re not old enough to do it.”
“Samson!” I whirl back around and smack him in the chest. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire as I stare at him with my mouth agape.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Your cheeks are as red as that cherry you’re asking me to pop.”
An unsettling mixture of embarrassment and something I can’t quite name rush through me, making me feel hot all over. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean… I just wanted you to kiss me!”
Samson stills. “You’ve never been kissed?” His eyes drop to my lips of their own accord.
I glare at him. “How could I? Thanks to Orion, guys at school won’t talk to me. Plus, even if they would…” I trail off, knowing good and well even if they would give me the time of day, I still wouldn’t be interested.
“Even if they would, what?” he growls.
“They still wouldn’t be you.”
“Dammit, Luna.” He sounds mad now and I feel like a fool. Apparently being told no hurts more than I remembered. Or maybe he just let me down easier last time.
“Sorry,” I mumble, climbing off the swing. “It was dumb.”
“Look at me,” he demands, but I don’t. “I said look at me.” The chains jerk as he abandons the swing and grabs my shoulder, spinning me to face him.
“What in the world?” I shriek right as his lips come down on mine. They’re warm and soft and perfect, and even though he doesn’t try to french kiss me, I totally see what all the hype is about.
I think I could kiss him forever, I think as he pulls away, rubbing my index finger over my lips as I try to commit the feel of his to memory.
“I wish you could be all of my firsts, Samson Carter,” I say before I can think better of it. “I’d save every single one for you.”
“Don’t say shit like that.” He’s back to being all growly, but I don’t care. Because he. Kissed. Me. Cue the internal confetti.
“Why not?” I cross my arms and glare. “I mean it.”
Samson glares right back. “You don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you dare tell me what I mean. You don’t know my heart, or how I feel, so don’t presume to.” I pace back and forth on the porch, getting angrier with each pass. “And how dare you try to minimize my feelings. I might be young, but I’m not dumb. I’ve loved you since I was ten and I love you now. You big dummy.”
Ugh. I don’t have to stand here and take this. Maybe Mom’s right and all boys are from outer space, because he’s acting all kinds of crazy. Kissing me and then telling me I don’t know how I feel.
My feelings haven’t changed, but he’s sending all kinds of mixed signals.
I try to make a break for the front door, but Samson blocks my path. “Stella,” he rumbles my name and despite how upset I am at him, I shiver.
“Ugh! Just go hang out with Orion. Or better yet, go home!” I shout, my humiliation giving way to tears. I know telling him to go home is a low blow. He’s told me over and over how much he hates it at the Scotts’.
“You love me?” he asks, his voice deceptively soft.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“I…” he trails off, unknowingly gutting me.
“It’s okay.” I will myself not to cry. “I know you don’t feel the same way.”
“You’re too young for me, Stella.”
I roll my eyes. “Age is only a number.”
“Numbers have meaning. Wanna know another number?”
I nod.
“Twenty.”
“What’s important about twenty?” Like, are we just throwing out random numbers now? It’s not even how old he is.