Chapter 3 3.

They are still down there.

Talking about something fun, I guess. Or maybe it just works stuff. All I know is that I am thirsty. After waiting a while, I decide to go downstairs, because I think they are going to be here a little longer. I go downstairs and see that they are drinking wine at the kitchen table. I go to the fridge, get a bottle of water and try to show everyone there that I am feeling good about his presence.

But I'm sure I'm not convincing him very much. I leave them there and head toward my room again. I hear him say that he's coming. He says goodbye to my mother and Jenna and says that he can go to the exit by himself.

I'll wait.

He approaches me, looks at me a bit blankly, and says:

''Good evening, Samantha.''

I just answer:

''Good evening, Stan.''

...

The day drags on slowly and I am even missing school and this is the height of boredom for me.

...

My mother is in the office, and I have already gone up to my room after dinner.

I hear his car coming.

Since I have little to do, I go to my window, open the curtain slightly and look toward his house. I can see that he is coming back from the gym because of the clothes he is wearing. Sometime later, I see that there is a light on in his room. His window is not open, but the curtains are, so I see him take off his shirt, and God...

How can I stand here?

He moves out of my field of vision and I whimper.

A while later, he reappears again. He is wearing a shirt now, and that is a shame. His hair is a little wet, which suggests that he was in the shower and I wish I could smell him now. He sits on the bed with his laptop on his lap. He seems focused on typing something and I think it must be something about his work.

But did he need to bite his lip like that while he was typing?

Seeing him there in that same bed, in that same room, reminds me of that night when I saw him with that woman.

I wanted to be that woman.

I bite my lips and take a deep breath. I need to talk to him or I'm going to freak out.

...

I can't stay here anymore. I need to talk to him. After taking the keys, I open the gate that separates our backyards and am in his backyard. I see through the glass kitchen door that he is sitting on the couch in the living room now, with his laptop in his lap. I knock on the door and as soon as he sees me; he looks surprised and then comes to the door and opens it. He looks at me and asks me if I want to come in, and I promptly say yes.

He looks at me for a while and asks:

''What are you doing here?''

This sounds not like a scolding, but as if he also wishes he had gone after me first.

I say:

''You can't just tell me all that and then avoid me like that.''

He smiles his usual smile, but now he also seems frustrated by this situation. I approach him and he looks at me blankly, and I know what he is thinking.

Then I say:

''But I won't turn eighteen for another five months.''

He smiles that sexy smile again, but this time, it is also a sad smile.

''So I won't touch you until five months from now.''

''But Stan...''

He interrupts me.

''I got to know your mother's work, and she is one of the best lawyers I have ever met.''

I don't know what he is getting at, so he continues:

''I'm not worried about going to jail, accused of corrupting a minor and well... I should.''

He laughs half-heartedly. Me too. He continues:

''But that would take me away from you, and I don't want to imagine that.''

He looks at me sadly, and this only makes me want to hug him tightly.

He tries to move away from me in another direction and I follow him, who ends up with his back to a wall right behind him. I move even closer to his body, feeling his erection again, and I love the feeling it gives me. I close my eyes as I move gently against his body and say:

''You want this just as much as I do, so why don't you kiss me?''

I concentrate on his breathing because it has the same intense, panting rhythm as mine.

I get even closer and he closes his eyes once again, biting his lower lip, and it makes me kind of mesmerized.

He then turns me around, and now I have my back to the wall.

He says:

''I already said I can't do that...''

''Just because of my age?''

He says nothing, just looks at me with that sad look again.

I am gripping his shirt between my fingers again and he still seems to fight the desire clear in his eyes.

I close my eyes and beg:

''Please...''

He takes a deep breath and says:

''Samantha...''

As soon as he speaks my name, I feel that I need to kiss him now. I move even closer and he takes another deep breath. I can feel his warm breath against my lips. He holds my face with both hands and his lips are on mine. His lips are soft and warm and I open mine to give way to his tongue, which circles my mouth and meets mine. No one has ever kissed me like this before, soft, intense, and in such a sexy way.

I don't want him to think that this is hurting me, because it feels so good. But I want more. I want him to touch me in every part of my body and not just hold my face like this. I want his hands squeezing me in all the right places, like I know he knows how to do. So I hold his hand while I kiss him and bring it down to my waist and tuck it under my shirt and he holds it there.

As soon as he touches me, I let out a groan.

He walks away slowly with his eyes still closed.

Damn it!

He just says:

''I think you'd better go home.''

Now I am frustrated, but from the sorrow in his eyes, I can see that I won't be able to make him kiss me again. I turn away from him and walk toward the door. I look at him one more time before I leave and he is still leaning against the wall where we were before. He keeps his eyes closed, and he is still looking down. He looks sorry for what happened.

I don't want him to feel this way, to regret what happened between us, but I feel that now is not a good time to argue.

I can't stop thinking about that kiss.

"Why did it have to be so good?"

Of two things at least I know: he is also attracted to me and that is good, but secondly: he thinks he shouldn't be attracted to me and that is horrible. I go to the refrigerator and get a bottle of water, take a long sip, and stand for a while against the kitchen sink. I look toward his house. It's going to be hard to keep my distance.

...

My mother soon comes home from work and comes over to where I am sitting on a chair near the kitchen island, reading a romance book that Haylie gave me for my birthday.

''Haven't finished this book yet?''

My mother says as she gives me a quick kiss and goes towards the refrigerator to get a jug of orange juice. She puts some in a glass and I watch her say:

''You know that sighing for stories like that, it was always more Haylie's idea, right, Mom?!''

She laughs. But then she looks at me with that look that I know something is coming. She then sits down across from me and says:

''It is.''

But I know it won't stay just that, and as soon as I lift the book again, she says:

''Don't you feel very lonely staying here all day?''

I know that she wants to ask:

"Why didn't you want to date anyone else after Tim?"

Timothy was very immature even though he was eighteen like he was at the time we were dating. I was sixteen and much more aware of my actions than he was. I then say:

''I'm fine, Mom, really.''

You know I always like to be alone at home. That's not a problem and I also talk to Haylie all the time and when school starts, I'll make new friends. She seems much better now.

...

Shortly after we have coffee together, I go back to bed. I have little to do and that kiss doesn't want to get out of my head anyway, so I go back to trying to sleep.

I prepare lunch and as soon as we finish eating, my mother takes a brief rest while we watch a program on TV. She looks at me like that again. Here it comes. She says:

''I know I've been working a lot, honey. But I promise that as soon as things stabilize, I will spend more time at home with you.''

I know I've been airy these last few hours, but I don't want her to think it's because of her, her work, but I also can't just walk up to her and say:

"Mom, I made out with Stan and now I can't stop thinking about him."

But I just say:

''I have an idea! Why don't you leave your car with me, so I can go to the supermarket nearby and buy ingredients to make that chocolate cake you love?'''

She seems satisfied with my idea. She then says:

''Okay! Then I'll go to work with Jenna.''

She looks better now and I like she is like that. This is important to her.

...

Around two in the afternoon, I decide to leave and go to the supermarket. I grab my keys and go out the front door. After leaving the garage, I go straight ahead, but as I reach the street, I see Stan's car pass me. But I don't think he saw me.

I then look forward and step on the brakes because there is a girl on a bicycle that I think I just ran over. I get off and walk over to her, who is down, and offer her my hand to get her up while I ask her if she is okay and apologizes.

It's a good thing I was very slow. She seems fine, but the bag of oranges she was carrying fell over and I am trying to help pick it all up while apologizing again. She just laughs and says:

''Who has never, right?''

I don't understand what she means. She understands, smiles even more, and continues:

''You suffered or committed an accident while facing him.''

She points toward Stan's house. And I am very embarrassed right now. But she just holds out her hand to me, which I hold. She says:

''I'm Jillian.''

I shake his hand and say:

''Samantha.''

''You are new here, aren't you?''

I reply:

''Yes, and I have never seen you here before.''

She says:

''I was at my father's house.''

''Divorced parents too?''

She just smiles. I like her. I like that. She always has a smile on her face. She says that she has to go, but that we'll talk later because she lives right over there. Finally, having someone my age to talk to can be nice.

...

After going to the supermarket and buying the ingredients, I get home and start preparing the cake. ... Sometime later and my cake is ready. I let it cool down.

...

I look at the clock and it is 4:00 in the afternoon. The cake is ready for frosting. ... I feel that someone is watching me and as soon as I raise my eyes, he is standing in the doorway looking at me. My heart races. He is wearing a white shirt and a red cap that gives him a boyish look, which makes him even more adorable. He just looks me up and down as he always does and says:

''I was on the balcony trying to sleep and I smelled something so good.''

This makes me smile and then he takes a few steps into the kitchen as if he is still studying my reaction. I say, trying to sound casual:

''I thought you didn't want me around.''

He just smiles, biting the corner of his lower lip, making me clench my fingers on the sink behind me, to hold myself together so I don't go to him and grab him again. I swear I don't recognize myself anymore. He then says:

''I didn't say I didn't want to see you, I said I shouldn't want to see you.''

I like to hear that, but I don't make it obvious. I finally say:

''Why the hat? Are you trying to hide from someone?''

He just smiles and says:

''Your mother is not at home, so I guess I shouldn't be here.''

I stare at him for a while. I like he showed up here. Then I say:

''I'm just baking a cake and you're just sitting there talking to me.''

He takes the cue and goes to sit by the island while I put the ingredients for the cake filling in the sink. It's kind of hard to concentrate on this when I know he's here and I know he's looking at me, but I like the feeling it gives me.