For the Longest Time (25 page)

It was a pretty fantasy, and she knew it . . . but she figured that knowing it was a sort of protection.

“You'll have to do a bunch of art for me, Sam,” he said. “I don't care how big you make it in New York. I want a bunch of your stuff on the walls. People will come in just to see it, and I'll have the coolest practice in the state.”

She laughed, and his grin deepened so that his dimples
showed. “You want me to do a bunch of fluffy puppy and kitty pictures?”

“No. Well, I mean . . . you can draw them with swords and armor or something. That would be pertinent but still badass.” He poked her with a toe. “Help me out, here. A combo gallery-and-vet-clinic. It could work.”

“You're really weird, Jake. But you get points for enthusiasm.”

“That's a yes, right? I know that's a yes.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. Battle-ready fluffies just for you. We'll make a fortune.”

“Yesss.” They laughed together. And then he looked at her so long she thought, not for the first time, that he might actually think about kissing her. Instead, though, he pulled one hand from beneath his head, reached between them, and threaded his fingers through hers. Then he lay back, staring into the branches. And all she could do was feel the beat of his heart through his skin, slow and steady in comparison to the rapid fluttering of her own.

Sam shook her head, pushing the memory away as she threw her sweatshirt over the back of the chair and headed downstairs.

He was waiting there for her, a small cooler in one hand, talking easily to Zoe. Her heart constricted painfully, just for an instant. He was still the boy she'd loved with all her stupid, teenage heart. And he was so much more.

It made him so wonderfully, terrifyingly easy to love all over again.

“Hey,” he said, eyes lighting up when he caught sight of her. “You're going to want to get your coat. It's nice out, but it's not warm.”

“Okay.” She got it quickly, already suspecting what he had in mind. By the time she headed outside with him,
her heart was fluttering just the way it used to. He caught her hand in his, and they walked down toward the square, then crossed over into the park.

“I forgot a blanket,” he apologized as he led her toward the Witch Tree. “But the ground should be dry.”

“We managed just fine without one before,” Sam replied, and earned a wink of his dimples in return.

They settled themselves in one of their old spots, where the branches draped low enough to form a canopy for them, giving them a small hideaway from the rest of the world. Sam laughed when he opened the cooler and pulled out a pair of subs he must have picked up from the deli on his way to work.

“Outsourcing, I see.”

“I know my limits. My sandwich skills don't go any farther than two slices of bread and some prepackaged turkey. For you, I went fancy.”

He handed her one of the subs and some napkins, then went to work unwrapping his own. Sam hesitated for only an instant, then did what she'd never been able to get up the courage to do the last time they'd been here together. She scooted over to sit pressed against him, pausing to drop her chin affectionately on his shoulder before digging into her sandwich.

They ate and talked, peering through the branches and laughing together when Jason's truck pulled in front of the gallery, Jake listening to Sam's stories about his cousin's in-store antics with his eyes crinkled in amusement. He told her about his day. And she began to open up about her ideas for future paintings. They might have grown up, Sam thought, but it was still a revelation to discover how quickly it could feel as though they'd never been apart.

“You should paint the tree,” Jake told her, taking her crumpled sub wrapper and stuffing it into a plastic bag he'd brought along for trash. “It always made me think of you.”

“Yeah?” Sam smiled, quietly delighted. “I'd love to. I just need to decide how I want to approach it. I want to do it right.”

“You will,” he said. “In the meantime, you should paint something that reminds you of, oh, say . . . me.” He bumped her with his shoulder, eyes full of mischief.

“That's easy,” she replied. “I'll just paint a giant pudding cup. You can hang it in your office.”

“Hey.” He made a wounded face as Sam reached in to draw out the desserts he'd brought. “Those belong to one of the food groups, you know. I'm not sure which one, but they're totally in there.”

“You can have both,” Sam said. “Whatever food group those belong to, I'm okay operating with a deficiency. It's like eating the slime you used to be able to get out of the quarter machines down at the supermarket. Except brown.”

Jake looked at the pudding, looked at her, and then put them back in the cooler. “And there goes my appetite.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, that's why you're laughing.” He grinned at her, put the top of the cooler back on, and then rested his arms on his knees. “So when do I get to find out about your supersecret party costume?”

The mention of the Halloween party was the first sour note of the afternoon, but Sam tried to brush it off. It was happening. She'd get through it.

“You get to find out when you see it,” she said. “Since you won't tell me what yours is.”

“Because it's that cool. Besides, I want you to have
one
thing to look forward to about Saturday.” He tilted his head at her when she pursed her lips. “It's going to be fine, Sam. We'll have fun—I promise. I want to be able to go out and do things together.”

“
Things
is kind of a broad category. We could do lots of things in places where Cici and company aren't.”

He sighed. “Sam.”

“I know,” she said, tilting her head back to look up into the blazing orange leaves. “I know. It's a package deal. Not all of your friends are complete jerks. Give it a chance. I know.”

“I don't actually care what they think,” Jake said. Startled, Sam turned her head to look at him.

“Then we're going why?”

“Because the Cove is home, and people might as well get used to seeing us out together. Plus, I mean it . . . I love the Halloween party. It's fun. I want to share the stuff I like with you. Just give it a chance, okay?”

She heard what he said, but she knew what was beneath it.
I want you to like them. I want them to like you. Please give it one more chance.
He hadn't quite given up. And she didn't have the heart to tell him exactly how impossible his hopes were. Maybe, when this worked out about as well as she feared, she'd tell him why. And then he really was going to have to choose. Most of those people were never going to accept her. And she'd matured enough to know that she deserved better than to live on the periphery of somebody else's life.

She wanted to build something new with Jake. But no matter what he said, she was still afraid that when it came right down to it, he wouldn't be able to let go enough to really try.

As though he sensed her thoughts, Sam felt the brush of Jake's hand, then the warmth as he threaded his fingers through hers. The echo from the past shook her to her core.

Don't let go of me, she thought. Please don't let go.

“D
oes this look stupid?”

Andi looked up from the book she was reading. Peaches was attacking her sneaker, batting wildly at the laces, tangling herself in them, and then dashing off behind the chair only to emerge again moments later to repeat the whole thing. Loki was weaving in and out of Sam's feet. She wasn't sure whether that was love or impending homicide.

“No, you don't look stupid!” Andi smiled. “I like it. Literary and so . . . not black!”

“Yeah, well, I figured that the lack of black alone would make it hard to recognize me, but I felt like I should pick an actual character, too,” Sam said. She'd actually branched out a little on an impromptu shopping trip yesterday, going with the “little goes a long way” theory of color management. She'd bought a pretty blue scarf, and a pair of indigo earrings that would go perfectly with this shirt she'd seen . . . not that she was quite there with buying it yet. Everything else was making her head spin, but fortunately, she didn't have the money to go at any speed but slow with changing up her wardrobe.

The costume she'd bought was another matter. That had been a splurge, and she was still questioning her
sanity, but the desire to surprise everyone had overridden common sense. It had been tough to find much, digging through the available options—slutty pirate, slutty princess, slutty superheroine. She'd considered modifying a semi-slutty Bride of Frankenstein costume, but a bout of Internet wandering after she'd put away her brushes for the night had brought her to what she was wearing.

“You should have dressed Loki up as a dragon,” Andi said. “He's on your shoulder often enough.”

“He'd probably breathe fire on people if he could, too,” Sam said. “No, he can stay home. I'd rather carry a sparkly dragon egg purse. Fans of the series will get it.”

“Yeah, and the rest of them will just gawk at you,” Andi said, then winked. “In a good way. Does Jake know what you're going as?”

“No, I decided to surprise him,” Sam replied. “I didn't want him to feel like he had to dress up as a Dothraki warlord. I'm . . . not even sure he knows what a Dothraki is.”

“Bet he'll want to find out,” Andi said, quirking an eyebrow before looking back down at her book.

Sam smirked as she swished out of the room, the long layers of pale blue and gold material moving with her. The material gathered at the tops of her shoulders, baring her arms, and draped down behind her to flow in her wake. She'd crimped her hair and then pulled the sides away from her face with thin braids, letting the rest cascade down past her shoulders. There was an intricate gold belt, like lacework, and of course the bejeweled egg she carried that doubled as a purse.

She wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but even though baring this much skin and wearing this much color was completely out of character for her, she felt amazing.
Almost like the woman she was dressed as. Which was good, because considering the gauntlet she suspected she was about to run, what better thing to be than the Mother of Dragons?

Of course, she had no actual dragons, only a cat that was now threatening to put a hole in her new dress.

“Damn it, Loki! Go try to conquer something else. Go play with your sister. Come on.”

He didn't even bother to look at her, gamboling merrily along as he tried to catch the folds of her dress. She had a feeling that if this went on much longer, he was going to step on one of her gold-sandaled feet and draw blood while he was at it. This was what she got for saving his furry butt.

She expected the Tavern would be packed, which was probably a good thing. If things went poorly, she'd have more places to hide. She still wasn't sure if Zoe was coming. Getting dressed up and dancing in a cramped space while people spilled beer on you was apparently not her idea of a good time. Still, Sam thought there was a chance she'd see her, if only because Zoe needed to blow off steam. The most recent encounter with Jason, who Sam had nearly called Treebeard to his face, thanks to Zoe, had not gone well. He'd brought more of the woods to grace the gallery's floors, and more of his particular flavor of sarcasm. The usual tangle had ensued.

She was on Zoe's side . . . mostly. But Jason had a twisted sense of humor that she couldn't help but appreciate. Sam still hadn't figured out where on the lust/hate spectrum the two of them fell. Some things were safer ignored.

The doorbell rang, and Loki bounded off to take up a strategic position beneath the nearest piece of furniture.
Relieved, Sam headed for the door, nerves tangling in the pit of her stomach. What would Jake think? He was into her hair, so she'd gone with something that really played it up. After all, it was Daenerys Targaryen's defining feature. It was weird that she'd be nervous, she thought, considering the various states of undress he'd seen her in this week. But then, this wasn't about just the two of them alone together. That worked. This? This was more like a coming-out party. From hell.

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and opened the door. Immediately, she burst out laughing.

“Hey, Cap!”

Jake had managed to find a very good—and appealingly tight—Captain America costume. Had she mentioned her thing for this particular Avenger, or was he just psychic? Either way, his boyish good looks fit the part perfectly. She wondered if it would be rude to ask him to turn around so she could stare at his butt. Then she wondered if maybe she could convince him to keep this on for a while after the party.

“Jake? What is it?”

His mouth was slightly open, and he seemed to be taking a long time to take in her costume.

“I, um . . . what did you say?” he asked.

She tilted her head. “I am the blood of the dragon,” she said.

When his eyes met hers, they were endearingly earnest. “Can I just take you home?” he asked.

“Yes. Now?” she asked hopefully.

“Soon. Definitely soon,” he said, then held out his hand. With a resigned sigh, she took it, and they headed to the truck.

* * *

The Harvest Cove Tavern was a squat white building just off the square that had been built and rebuilt several times since the town's founding. It was famously haunted, since it had always been an inn of some sort, and always crowded on the weekend and nights when there was a big game on TV. Jake parked up the street, and the music was loud enough to hear outside. Sam got out, shivered because she hadn't bothered to bring a jacket, and tried to bolster herself.

Okay. I can do this. Okay.

“I think everybody's here,” Jake said with a grin. “Come on, your highness.” He caught her hand in his, which made her feel immeasurably better, and they headed for the door. Jake paid the cover, and they walked into a crush of people and throbbing music. There was a bar along the left side of the room, and a smallish dance floor in the back that was already overflowing. With the low ceiling and wooden pillars, Sam had always found the place a little claustrophobic, but she guessed it had its charm. When it was empty.

She had to hang on to Jake so they could go get a beer, which took some time, considering the crowd. When he finally handed it to her, she'd actually started to hope that Cici and company just hadn't shown up. She saw faces in the crowd that she recognized, some from working at the gallery, others from long ago. Most, to her relief, were friendly. All were surprised, which she got a kick out of. She had several wild urges to clamber on top of the bar and yell, “I will take what is mine with fire and blood!”

Maybe later. For now, she sipped her beer and watched the parade of male pirates, slutty pirates, slutty vampires, half-naked punk rockers of both genders, and the
obligatory pregnant nuns. A Bo-Peep whose breasts were only barely hanging on in the costume came running up to them. It took a minute, but Sam finally identified her as Jake's receptionist, Angie.

“Oh my God, you guys look great!” she yelled. “Come on, everybody's over here!”

It was friendlier than Sam had seen her. But then, Angie was drunker than she'd seen her. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all if that was going to be the case all over. Jake gave her an encouraging smile and pulled her in the direction of the dance floor, where she was presented, after all these years, with the sight of a fully constituted high school clique that she'd never wanted to see again. There was Max and Thea, who she knew had gotten married after college, dressed as the Flintstones. Shane was Monty Python's Black Knight, looming over everyone and minus one arm, which Fitz was swinging over his head while he danced. Fitz was wearing a fake mustache, which seemed to be the entirety of his costume. Kallie Monroe was a cheerleader in pigtails, while Ryan was barely recognizable as a slightly terrifying Oompa Loompa. Dave Garrity, who they all called Stump for reasons she didn't want to know, was a lumberjack. And of course, there was Cici in a skintight leotard as Catwoman. She looked fantastic. Sam wanted to scream, but she settled for leaning into Jake's side and chugging the rest of her beer. He looped his arm around her as all of them turned their heads and stared.

She had a flashback to the cafeteria, and the endless walk to and from her lunch table from the line. On a good day, no one noticed her. On a bad one, she'd get a few mocking whistles and jokes. On a really bad one,
she'd trip or something and there would be applause. Much of it coming from this crew.

Somehow, she'd felt better about running into them in bits and pieces. But this way, all of them at once, felt like facing a firing squad. Complete with the sense of impending doom. She swallowed hard, wondering why she'd ever agreed to this. Only her pride, tattered but healing, kept her from bolting out the door.

“Yay!” cried Cici, bouncing over and grabbing Jake's arm. “You're here!”

Apparently she'd decided to forgive him for their spat the other night. Wonderful. Sam dug her nails into Jake's other arm, in case he'd forgotten his promise to her. He winced, but she needn't have worried.

“Hey,” he said coolly, and didn't let Cici tug him anywhere. “We're here.” He offered a casual smile, extracted his arm from her claws, and guided Sam into what she thought of as the lion's den. There were a bunch of good-natured greetings for him, and a bunch of uncomfortable looks for her. Fitz, at least, was friendly.

“You look amazing, khaleesi!” he said, shouting into her ear so she could hear him. That he knew the Dothraki title for her character marked him as a fellow Game of Thrones geek, and she smiled at him, happy to have found at least one person to talk to.

“Thanks! Nice moustache!”

“I decided to be dashing for Halloween. How much more of a costume do you need?” he asked, then winked at her.

“It works on you,” she said.

When she turned her head, she caught Thea staring at her, who then jerked her head away rapidly without saying anything. That didn't exactly surprise her, though she
still didn't feel sorry for punching her. Thea was the only person she'd ever punched. Others might have deserved it, but the only one who'd pushed her past the point of no return was Wilma here.

Kallie tried to be friendly, ooh-ing over her costume, and Sam appreciated that. The rest of them were operating under various degrees of discomfort, and she found herself bopping silently to the music and looking around while Jake traded joking barbs with Max and Shane. Fitz reappeared at her side, pressing a fresh beer into her hand.

“Here. You look like you need this,” he said.

“You think?” she asked, widening her eyes. “Thanks.” She took a long pull from it and watched Big Al Piche, who was wearing a pair of booty shorts, a
THIS
IS
MY
HALLOWEEN
COSTUM
E
! shirt, and a clown wig, trying to climb up on one of the speakers. Fitz followed her gaze.

“That's not gonna end well,” he said.

“Never does,” she replied.

A popular song with a heavy beat started up, and the crowd started moving. Jake pulled her into his arms, and she had to laugh as she imagined the visual they must present. He smiled down at her.

“What is it?”

“Superhero meets high fantasy. We're very high concept,” she said.

“I'm glad you came,” he said into her ear.

“I'm glad, too. It would have been really awkward to ask you to dress up as Captain America for me in any other context,” she said. He laughed, and she slithered up against him and into the song, forgetting about everything else as she danced with him. He was a good dancer, she discovered. He'd had plenty of grace on the athletic
field. She'd watched him practice a few times from afar. And sketched him. A lot.

Jake spun her around to dance behind her, and she giggled until she caught sight of Thea and Cici whispering. About her, naturally. The smirk in her direction was hard to miss. The fun she'd been having evaporated instantly. Her smile faded as she turned back around. Jake, to his credit, picked up on it right away.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. It might make her sick to her stomach, but she'd be damned if she'd go running off just because some people had nothing better to do than gossip about her.
Still
. It was going to be a long night, though. Fitz boogied up behind her, smashing her against Jake before laughing and dancing—very badly—off in another direction.

Sam steadied herself with her hands at his waist and looked up at him.

“You look sad all of a sudden,” he said, tracing his thumb down her cheek and frowning. “Why?”

She thought about it, and then lifted up on her toes to speak in his ear. “I . . . I just don't really think I belong here, Jake.”

“Sure you do. Just as much as everyone else.” He smiled. “You're a townie now.”