15. Sam

Later that week, I'm getting ready for a date. Much to Tilly's dismay, Greg invited me for a dinner cruise tonight. Since our surf session, we've been talking, but not in person. Mostly, at Tilly's insistence, we're taking things slow.

As I'm lost in thoughts of dresses and what makeup to wear, Tilly drags herself in, collapsing onto the couch with a dramatic flair that only she can pull off. "I should have been a nun," she declares, sounding utterly defeated as she picks up a pillow and smooshes it over her own face. "If I have to swat one more hand away from my ass…"

I pause, a bit puzzled by her tone. "Since when do you not like attention from men?"

She just groans into the pillow with a picture of my face on it, a birthday gift that has amused us far too often. Curiosity getting the better of me, I walk over and gently pull the cushion away from her face. "Seriously, what's going on?" I press, needing to understand her sudden shift.

Tilly sits up, her hair a mess, and looks at me with a sort of resignation. "You remember our first night hanging out?"

"Yeah, how could I forget?" I admit. It was one of my first nights in Jaco after attempting college. Slunk in a corner of a dingy bar, Tilly had pulled me to the dance floor saying I was bumming her out.

"Well, it was then I realized I was hiding away. Trying not to let anyone close. When I saw you pouting off to the side, it was like looking in a mirror. Seeing so much of what I was feeling on your face…it was eye opening. I knew I needed a big change, to let myself have relationships, set down some roots finally."

I had heard this all before, but let my friend keep talking. She obviously had something big on her mind. "I've had another epiphany like that, and I can't…" she let out a long huff. "It's not as easy to change things this time around."

The subtext is clear; she's hinting at something big, likely about Tommy, but time is slipping away, and Greg is waiting. "I need to go, but stay up? We can talk all night," I offer, hoping she knows I'm here for her, no matter what.

"I kinda figured you'd be staying at Greg's place." The addition of her wiggling eyebrows is so juvenile I throw the pillow at her.

"You told me to take things slower, actually get to know more than his dick," I say, and her laughter fills the room, easing some of the tension. "And at this pace, I'll know the history of Kazakhstan before we get to second base." I mumbled it out but Tilly slaps my shoulder.

"It's been four days, Sam."

I scoff and fling my hands up. "Yeah, around him that's like being on a no carb diet and walking into a bakery every day. You can't just leave a sexy slice of cake around me and expect no nibbles!"

She rolls her eyes but doesn't disagree. "Want me to…?" she offers, motioning towards my neck, where my tattoo is. I nod, grateful for her help.

As she works on concealing the ink, she sighs. "Covering this up is stupid. It's so pretty. Why do it?" I spin around and let my hair fall over my shoulders, looking down at the dress I snuck from Tilly's closet.

"I don't like the reminder," I admit. There's a snappiness to my tone, but I don't apologize. It's not a topic I'm willing to discuss, not with Tilly, and not right now. "Seriously though, wait up, and we'll talk. Okay?" She nods and gives a fake sob. "Oh my god, what now?"

Tilly stifles her ridiculous crying. "So grown up." Shaking my head, I head for the door.

Once downstairs, I smooth the ends of the tight blue dress, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as I breeze past the bar's patrons. But out of nowhere, a hand catches my wrist, pulling me back. "Going somewhere?" The voice is unexpected but brings an immediate smile to my face.

Turning, I see exactly the man I hope to see. Greg, in a delicious pair of slacks and a button-down shirt. "Oh hey, I thought we were meeting at the dock?"

"I was in the neighborhood; thought we could walk together," he says, standing up from his stool.

"In the neighborhood or stalking?"

He eyes me carefully, probably trying to decide if I'm joking or not. I decide to put him out of his misery with a shrug. "Either way, I'm flattered."

It works and he's laughing as he stands before offering a wave to my boss. "Thanks for the beer, Ron."

"Yeah, yeah. Bring her back in one piece." Ron's voice chased after us, filled with mock sternness. A small part of me wants to be embarrassed, first with Tilly's playful joking upstairs and now with Ron's.

"No promises," I say with a wink. "If dinner's expensive, might need to sell an arm or leg. You know, since my boss is a cheapass."

Pursing his lips together, Ron sighs then looks at Greg. "You sure you wanna take her out?" But there's a teasing lit in his voice.

He totally gets my weird sense of humor. And really, I love these people. Yeah, Tilly's more like a sister, and Ron's like the weird uncle, but they care for me and I for them. Our little strange family is all I know anymore, and I wouldn't survive without them.

Once outside, Greg reaches for my hand, his palm gently touching mine. I look down at our intertwined fingers, feeling apprehension. But Greg, as if sensing my nervousness, smiles and squeezes. "Not a couple, just friends that have seen each other naked," he jokes.

His comment sent my lady bits on fire immediately. Damn him. The poor guy can't even say the word ‘naked,' without me wanting to jump him right on the sidewalk. Images of him, all sweat-glistened and intense, flash vividly through my mind. It's hard to concentrate on anything else, so I just focus on taking a step at a time.

"Earth to Sam, did you hear me?" His voice breaks through my daydream.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. "Uh, sorry. No."

"I said, do you want to grab a drink for our walk?" Again, I shake my head. No, alcohol is the last thing I need to mix into this evening that isn't supposed to be about sex.

Finally, I dare to look up. The sunset is painting the sky, signaling the day's end, and everything around us seems so still, so serene. Like Costa Rica is pushing us closer together with its picturesque views. Greg's gentle touch guides us both toward the cement wall along the beach, and he stops.

"You like sunsets?"

"Who doesn't?" I ask. That earns me a smirk.

"Some people don't. But some people also don't like chocolate. Crazy bastards." He chuckles to himself. "So, what about you, Sam?"

"Love them. But especially how still and calm everything gets. Yeah, the colors are pretty, but the way the ocean signals the end of the day without changing anything." I know I'm not making any sense, so I keep going. "The waves keep crashing, the tides pull, but while the rest of the world sleeps, the oceans are still doing its thing. Even in all that quiet, and in the darkness, life goes on. That's where the real beauty is."

He's staring at me now, and my face fills with heat. Maybe I'm crazier than I thought. There's a beat where neither of us speaks. If I'm not mistaken, we aren't breathing either.

Finally, he breaks the intense staring contest and leans onto the cement wall. "I like to close my eyes and imagine I'm out there, surfing in the dark. Just Point Break style, you know?" he says, a dreaminess in his tone. His reference makes me laugh out loud, but he's shrugging his shoulders. "I'm serious! That's the peak of cinema!"

"I've never seen it." I confess, amused by the immediate look of pure disbelief.

He shakes away the shock on his face. "Wait just a goddamn minute, you're a surfer chick and you've never seen Point Break?"

"Never. You know we don't even own a TV, right?"

He's pulling my hand, jerking me away from our spot, watching the sunset over the ocean. "Come over, watch it with me."

"What? No, we have the cruise."

"Those happen every night. But you never get the chance to break your ‘best movie ever' cherry again," he says. His eyes shine with mischief now, and I am in true danger of falling for this man. He gets sappy over sunsets and childish over movies? I didn't know that was my kryptonite. I barely know him, but damn it if I don't want to spend every free second with him.

The idea hits me in the chest, almost causing a full panic. Getting attached to Greg is a bad idea. Damn him. I need space and most certainly should not go to his place where watching a movie will undoubtedly turn into something else.

I jerk my hand away from his grip more forcefully than I intended. "No!" My voice is louder, and my patience is thinner. He looks back at me with a depressed hunch in his back. But I stiffen my upper lip. "Look, I'm sorry, but if we go back to your place for a movie, I'm gonna..." My hands find my hips as I gesture towards him, impeccably dressed in his suit. "Well, look at you! I won't make it two minutes!"

His expression shifts again; a smile flashes, nearly as bright as the sun sinking over the ocean. "You're saying you won't come to my apartment because you don't want to sleep with me?"

Closing my eyes, I face the ocean again, seeking solace in its vastness. "Not that I don't want to. Just, everything happened so fast. I want to know you, without that… you know?"

"Is this Tilly or you saying we need to slow down?"

I feel heat on my cheeks. It doesn't seem possible that he already knows me and my friend so well. "Well, Tilly suggested it, but I agree."

"Okay then. I can slow things down." His words are sincere, but there is a spring in his step that I half want to hit him for. Why is he excited about taking our time? Unless he knows why. Because I like him, really like him, and don't want to ruin it by just making our relationship about sex.

Whatever the reason, he seems to have gotten the message, because he doesn't reach for my hand.

As we lined up for the cruise with a half dozen others, a shiver ran through me, not from the cold; it's never cold here in Costa Rica but from the thrill of spending more time with Greg. His presence is so overwhelmingly intimate that it sends goosebumps across my skin. And he's not even touching me.

"You okay?" he asks, draping an arm around me. I nod, not daring to comment on his touch. I do like it, arguably too much. But after my little freak-out a few minutes ago, I'm surprised he's willing to try anything again. But soon enough, his touch banished all the shivering. Maybe my problem isn't his touch but his lack of it. That's it. That's how I'll fix this. I'll just hire him to ride around piggyback on me all the time so I don't go crazy.

That's normal, right?

I don't have time to dwell on my slowly declining mental health as the line to board the small ship begins to move. Our waitress leads us across the deck to a tiny round table covered in a white cloth that looks far more expensive than the sheets on Tilly's bed. Greg, ever the gentleman, pulls out my chair and then hurries around to his own seat.

His every gesture, the lightest touch, sends tremors through me. How in the hell am I going to get through dinner without doing something foolish? And why am I not supposed to give in? I'm beginning to think that whatever the reason, it's dumb and stupid and the worst decision I've ever made.

Thankfully, the waiter returns before either of us has a chance to say anything. They present the wine options, and Greg chooses something sophisticated sounding, so it's beyond my recognition.

Once the waiter pours our glasses of red wine, Greg lifts his in a toast, and I follow suit, albeit a bit clumsily.

"To getting to know the real Sam," he says, his smile teasing yet sincere. The word ‘real' makes me gulp down a knot of fear, but I clink my glass against his. As I drain the entire glass, I silently hope to drown all my apprehensions in the process. But all it does is confirm that having sex with Greg wasn't the dangerous part. Getting to know the real Sam is exactly what I should be afraid of.