You'll Think of Me (Part 2 of 6)
Title: You'll Think of Me
Author:xjekkix
Word Count: 1333 words
Summary: The early days. Samantha deals with unrequited love.
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing.
Disclaimer: This is not real
Samantha's eyes open only slightly and close again when rays of much too bright sunshine invade. "Who's the evil genius who made mornings so fucking bright?" she mumbles to herself and the snoring bulldog next to her in bed.
She smiles, eyes still closed, as she enjoys her morning stretch. First her hands and feet, followed by a slow extension of the rest of her body. A sigh of contentment. It's a brand new day.
It's not much longer before she realizes no matter what day it is, it's not yesterday, and that means she can't take any of it back. She wishes for a moment her life were like that Bill Murray movie, Groundhog Day, so she could relive yesterday a few more times. Figure out how to do it right. Surely with enough practice she could win the girl's heart, or be rejected so many times that she simply gives up.
She kicks the covers off but continues to lay in bed, clad with a pair of baggy track pants and a well-worn white tank-top. Her eyes flutter open finally but she covers them over with her hands and contemplates going back to sleep. Maybe if she avoids life for a few days all of her worries will disappear.
Her iPhone rings in the hallway but she opts not to answer it. Anyone calling this early must be crazy, she thinks, even though she knows it's likely past noon. It rings again - she hopes this time they'll just leave a voice mail.
The ringing stops and she sits up, hunched over and wipes sleep from her eyes. Cadillac stares at her from the edge of the bed and whimpers. "Remind me again why I didn't toilet train you?" she says to the dog and rubs her own head, trying to tame her sleep-hair.
It takes all her energy to crawl out of bed, throw on a pair of slippers and attach the dog's leash. She's no more ready for the day now than she was 15 minutes ago and regrets this decision even more when her iPhone rings again.
Without looking at the screen's display, she answers the call. "Hi, don't people know how to leave messages anymore?"
As she says this, she opens the door and lets the dog run free in her gated courtyard.
"We need to talk, Samantha. I'm parked out front," says a familiar voice.
Panic. Anxiety. Oh shit.
Those four words never mean anything good, she thinks. She remembers her mother using them several times as she grew up, twice to warn her daughter of a pending divorce.
"Uhhh, right now? I'm actually..." she begins.
"I know you're home. Caddy's peeing on your plants right now."
"Shit!" Samantha says and runs outside to find her dog squatting just above an exotic lotus plant beside the gate.
She looks through the gate and sees Lindsay standing there. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun that rests comfortably upon her shoulder. She laughs as Samantha quietly scolds the dog and takes hold of the leash.
"Sorry, not funny," Lindsay says, scratching behind her head. This movement pulls her vintage t-shirt up slightly revealing a small, but unbelievably alluring sight of midriff and all of Samantha's anxiety dissolves.
"I'm not really dressed to go anywhere," Samantha says, tugging at the front of her form-fitting shirt. Lindsay shrugs. "Guess we could talk here?"
Lindsay turns around to make sure no paparazzi cars have followed her and opens the gate. As she closes it behind her, she finds herself awfully close to Samantha, who is now feeling even more self-conscious about her messy hair.
Once inside, Cadillac goes straight back to bed and sulks after being yelled at. Samantha throws on her favourite Foreigner sweater and Lindsay takes a seat on the living room couch.
"Can I get you a drink? Breakfast?" Samantha asks, nervously trying to put off the inevitable. She fidgets with her hands, painfully aware that she has no pockets to stuff them into.
"It's 3 in the afternoon. But, no thank you. Just sit," she says, seemingly agitated and just as nervous.
Samantha sits down on a basketball shaped bean bag chair in the corner opposite the couch and tries to maintain good posture. She looks at Lindsay and tries to show that she is giving her undivided attention.
"This can't happen," Lindsay says, expressing her dismay through frazzled hand gestures. Samantha stares blankly, trying to play dumb. "You tried to kiss me, Samantha. Don't act like you have no idea what I'm talking about."
She feels guilty, and begins to slouch. She feels like a child, being punished for something she knows she shouldn't have done. Apologizing would be the easy way out but saying she's sorry for wanting to kiss the girl would be a lie.
"I didn't want things to be weird for us. It won't happen again," Samantha says, sitting up straight again. She's an adult now and needs to act like it. No sulking like a teenager anymore.
Neither of them speak for a few moments. The silence resonates through the entire house. The dog snores, the fridge buzzes and neighbours shout at each other across the streets.
"I wanted to kiss you too," Lindsay finally says, breaking the silence in a big way. For a moment, Samantha thinks she imagined these words out of wishful thinking but when she looks up and sees a familiar expression of longing, she knows that isn't the case.
"Oh," Samantha says, amazed that she was even able to form a word, no matter how small or barely audible.
"Oh? That's all you have to say?" Lindsay rasps, sounding exponentially more agitated than before.
"Sorry. I'm just confused as to how this went from 'this can't happen', to 'I wanted it to happen'," Samantha snaps back, slouching into the basketball chair.
"I'm not gay, Samantha. You know that." She sounds defensive which is no surprise but that does not make the situation any less perplexing.
"I never said you were. Never said I was either," she responds, getting up and walking toward the kitchen.
Lindsay follows and sits herself down on a stool at the kitchen counter. "So then why did you try to kiss me?"
"Because I like you. And I wanted to kiss you. It's really not as complex as you think." Samantha pours a glass of orange juice that she offers to Lindsay and another for herself that she downs in seconds flat.
Lindsay sits for a moment, sipping gently at her juice, a baffled look on her face.
"Let's just pretend it didn't happen and we can go back to being friends. Honestly, it's fine," Samantha says, knowing deep down that it's not. She will always feel drawn to Lindsay. In fact, despite the subtle rejection she is currently facing, Samantha wants to hold the girl in her arms more now than ever.
She reaches out to take Lindsay's empty juice glass and a hand catches her wrist. In a whirlwind of movements, Lindsay manages to turn on her stool and pull Samantha to her, their lips colliding with the force of a richter scale's level 8 - total destruction.
Her knees feel weak and she reaches out to the counter's surface behind Lindsay to steady herself. It all happens so quickly that she isn't sure she even remembers how to kiss anymore but sure as hell hopes so.
Lindsay is the first to pull away. Samantha's reaction is delayed but she opens her eyes and pushes herself back up. She feels like a newborn deer - her legs are wobbly but she knows remaining upright is her only option.
"What- why did you do that?" she says, stepping back to create a comfortable distance between them. Lindsay looks at her, eyes wide and innocent while she beguilingly chews on her bottom lip.
"Because I like you. And I wanted to kiss you. Not as complex as I thought."
Author:xjekkix
Word Count: 1333 words
Summary: The early days. Samantha deals with unrequited love.
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing.
Disclaimer: This is not real
Samantha's eyes open only slightly and close again when rays of much too bright sunshine invade. "Who's the evil genius who made mornings so fucking bright?" she mumbles to herself and the snoring bulldog next to her in bed.
She smiles, eyes still closed, as she enjoys her morning stretch. First her hands and feet, followed by a slow extension of the rest of her body. A sigh of contentment. It's a brand new day.
It's not much longer before she realizes no matter what day it is, it's not yesterday, and that means she can't take any of it back. She wishes for a moment her life were like that Bill Murray movie, Groundhog Day, so she could relive yesterday a few more times. Figure out how to do it right. Surely with enough practice she could win the girl's heart, or be rejected so many times that she simply gives up.
She kicks the covers off but continues to lay in bed, clad with a pair of baggy track pants and a well-worn white tank-top. Her eyes flutter open finally but she covers them over with her hands and contemplates going back to sleep. Maybe if she avoids life for a few days all of her worries will disappear.
Her iPhone rings in the hallway but she opts not to answer it. Anyone calling this early must be crazy, she thinks, even though she knows it's likely past noon. It rings again - she hopes this time they'll just leave a voice mail.
The ringing stops and she sits up, hunched over and wipes sleep from her eyes. Cadillac stares at her from the edge of the bed and whimpers. "Remind me again why I didn't toilet train you?" she says to the dog and rubs her own head, trying to tame her sleep-hair.
It takes all her energy to crawl out of bed, throw on a pair of slippers and attach the dog's leash. She's no more ready for the day now than she was 15 minutes ago and regrets this decision even more when her iPhone rings again.
Without looking at the screen's display, she answers the call. "Hi, don't people know how to leave messages anymore?"
As she says this, she opens the door and lets the dog run free in her gated courtyard.
"We need to talk, Samantha. I'm parked out front," says a familiar voice.
Panic. Anxiety. Oh shit.
Those four words never mean anything good, she thinks. She remembers her mother using them several times as she grew up, twice to warn her daughter of a pending divorce.
"Uhhh, right now? I'm actually..." she begins.
"I know you're home. Caddy's peeing on your plants right now."
"Shit!" Samantha says and runs outside to find her dog squatting just above an exotic lotus plant beside the gate.
She looks through the gate and sees Lindsay standing there. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun that rests comfortably upon her shoulder. She laughs as Samantha quietly scolds the dog and takes hold of the leash.
"Sorry, not funny," Lindsay says, scratching behind her head. This movement pulls her vintage t-shirt up slightly revealing a small, but unbelievably alluring sight of midriff and all of Samantha's anxiety dissolves.
"I'm not really dressed to go anywhere," Samantha says, tugging at the front of her form-fitting shirt. Lindsay shrugs. "Guess we could talk here?"
Lindsay turns around to make sure no paparazzi cars have followed her and opens the gate. As she closes it behind her, she finds herself awfully close to Samantha, who is now feeling even more self-conscious about her messy hair.
Once inside, Cadillac goes straight back to bed and sulks after being yelled at. Samantha throws on her favourite Foreigner sweater and Lindsay takes a seat on the living room couch.
"Can I get you a drink? Breakfast?" Samantha asks, nervously trying to put off the inevitable. She fidgets with her hands, painfully aware that she has no pockets to stuff them into.
"It's 3 in the afternoon. But, no thank you. Just sit," she says, seemingly agitated and just as nervous.
Samantha sits down on a basketball shaped bean bag chair in the corner opposite the couch and tries to maintain good posture. She looks at Lindsay and tries to show that she is giving her undivided attention.
"This can't happen," Lindsay says, expressing her dismay through frazzled hand gestures. Samantha stares blankly, trying to play dumb. "You tried to kiss me, Samantha. Don't act like you have no idea what I'm talking about."
She feels guilty, and begins to slouch. She feels like a child, being punished for something she knows she shouldn't have done. Apologizing would be the easy way out but saying she's sorry for wanting to kiss the girl would be a lie.
"I didn't want things to be weird for us. It won't happen again," Samantha says, sitting up straight again. She's an adult now and needs to act like it. No sulking like a teenager anymore.
Neither of them speak for a few moments. The silence resonates through the entire house. The dog snores, the fridge buzzes and neighbours shout at each other across the streets.
"I wanted to kiss you too," Lindsay finally says, breaking the silence in a big way. For a moment, Samantha thinks she imagined these words out of wishful thinking but when she looks up and sees a familiar expression of longing, she knows that isn't the case.
"Oh," Samantha says, amazed that she was even able to form a word, no matter how small or barely audible.
"Oh? That's all you have to say?" Lindsay rasps, sounding exponentially more agitated than before.
"Sorry. I'm just confused as to how this went from 'this can't happen', to 'I wanted it to happen'," Samantha snaps back, slouching into the basketball chair.
"I'm not gay, Samantha. You know that." She sounds defensive which is no surprise but that does not make the situation any less perplexing.
"I never said you were. Never said I was either," she responds, getting up and walking toward the kitchen.
Lindsay follows and sits herself down on a stool at the kitchen counter. "So then why did you try to kiss me?"
"Because I like you. And I wanted to kiss you. It's really not as complex as you think." Samantha pours a glass of orange juice that she offers to Lindsay and another for herself that she downs in seconds flat.
Lindsay sits for a moment, sipping gently at her juice, a baffled look on her face.
"Let's just pretend it didn't happen and we can go back to being friends. Honestly, it's fine," Samantha says, knowing deep down that it's not. She will always feel drawn to Lindsay. In fact, despite the subtle rejection she is currently facing, Samantha wants to hold the girl in her arms more now than ever.
She reaches out to take Lindsay's empty juice glass and a hand catches her wrist. In a whirlwind of movements, Lindsay manages to turn on her stool and pull Samantha to her, their lips colliding with the force of a richter scale's level 8 - total destruction.
Her knees feel weak and she reaches out to the counter's surface behind Lindsay to steady herself. It all happens so quickly that she isn't sure she even remembers how to kiss anymore but sure as hell hopes so.
Lindsay is the first to pull away. Samantha's reaction is delayed but she opens her eyes and pushes herself back up. She feels like a newborn deer - her legs are wobbly but she knows remaining upright is her only option.
"What- why did you do that?" she says, stepping back to create a comfortable distance between them. Lindsay looks at her, eyes wide and innocent while she beguilingly chews on her bottom lip.
"Because I like you. And I wanted to kiss you. Not as complex as I thought."