Page 15 of Wallflower

“I said, ‘let’s go’.”

“Changing your tune so quickly? Why’s that?” He lazily grins, satisfaction painted all over his stupid gorgeous face.

“Shut up,” I grumble, stepping towards the darkness.

The guts of the ship are abandoned, footsteps echoing down each corridor as Sam weaves us through a labyrinth of halls. How he knows where he’s going when everything looks the exact same, I have no idea. I’m positive I’d be lost down here for days with my poor sense of direction.

“So, when did you get the tattoo?” Sam asks, breaking the comfortable silence between us.

“It was the first thing I bought myself when I turned eighteen.” With his fingers still threaded through mine, lower into the ship we descend. Until the fully finished areas are long gone and the smell of wet steel fills the air.

“And you’re what… twenty-one…twenty-two now?” Sam opens a heavy metal door, the hum of machinery filling the air.

It occurs to me that we never hadthattalk. The one where I make sure this fling is age appropriate. However, I also don’t care. He’s clearly older than me, and the chemistry is bananas.

The ocean waves slap against the ship, reverberating through the metal, as the rudder sound is near deafening. I nod my reply, choosing to refrain from yelling in case other coworkers of his are close by.

Sam pauses next to another door, releasing my hand to push it open. It leads into a weirdly pristine white locker room, and I can’t help but wish the bathroom upstairs was this immaculate. “So, those two from earlier didn’t know you had a tattoo, or what?” He swings open a dark grey locker to the right of thedoor, grabbing a backpack. He empties his pockets into it, along with some things off the top shelf of the locker.

“No, the only one who knows is Chelsea. Although, I’m sure my demon of a stepbrother told everyone about it by now.”

“Why hide it?”

“It just wasn’t worth the headache. I’m already the disappointment in the family, a tattoo is just another thing for them to complain about.” Sam nods, seemingly understanding me without further explanation.

Looking down to the bag hanging from his hand, he zips it up with the other. His blue eyes raise to mine as he swings the sack over his shoulder. He abruptly yanks me closer, crashing my chest against his. “One more stop, then you’re all mine,” he growls, assaulting me with a searing kiss. He links our fingers once more before dragging me out the door.

By the fourth flight of stairs I’m trying to hide my laboured breathing and the stitch in my side. Sam appears unaffected. Probably having made this trek countless times before.

“So…” Oh gods, he wants to talk now?“What’s the deal between you and your stepbrother? Long running sibling rivalry or something?”

I heave in a deep breath, slowing my pace even more while I exhale quietly. “Uh… It’s not so much a rivalry as it is a deep-seated hatred.”

Sam’s eyes sweep over me, respectfully ignoring the red flush of my skin and the drip of sweat running down my hair line. “Is there a reason for this hatred?”

“I don’t know what his problem is with me, he’s just always had one. And I can’t stand what an asshole he is.” Sam gives me this look. Like he knows there’s more to the story and I should just tell him before he has to try and coax it out of me. I inhale and exhale another steadying breath, while we walk side by side.

Reaching the top of the flight, we turn to head up another staircase. I die inside as my legs ache, thick thighs rubbing together beneath the dress. At least I can see the calm ocean surface through the port holes now. “He’s relentlessly bullied me since my dad and his mom got together.” Despite the quiet tone of my voice, I can hear it echo around the metal stairwell. “It got worse when they moved in. Then Liam showed up, became infatuated with Chelsea, and basically never left. Joining in with Tyler on my hazing to secure himself a spot next to Chelsea for as long as their friendship lasted.”

“He’s an idiot, they both are. You’re a joy to be around.”

“Thanks.” My cheeks heat further as a smile pulls at my lips. Sam swings our joined hands back and forth in an over exaggerated manner, skipping up the steps and forcing me to follow.

His goofiness lifts my mood, but his rolling question sends it shooting right back down.

“What about your mom?”

“She’s gone. Car accident when I was young.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, not like you could have known.” This fucking walk is taking forever. Where the hell else could we possibly have to go? The moon? The climb seems endless. “Want to hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he beams, clearly unaware I’m not steering the conversation away from this morbid shit.

“Chelsea thinks Michelle killed our mother.”

His puzzled face observes mine. “Michelle is your stepmother?”