I didn’t want Sammy.

That, I was sure of.

He was like a puzzle, a riddle I needed to figure out. Like those tricky questions you come across in life that you just have to answer or else you’d go mad. He was exactly that and more. I didn’t want these newfound . . . feelings (were they feelings anyway?) to cloud what I’d judged him to be up to that point. But Sammy . . . he was still there, at my fingertips, being warm and kind and so unlike anyone else I’d known—it made me want to go back to those thoughts I’d had the night before when we danced. It irritated me. All of it.

So why did I want to see him? Why, amidst all the things in the universe, did Sammy want to help me? Me, the one who was so, and still is, so damn wicked to him.

The moment he caught sight of me the next day after the party, I knew he wanted to see if I was okay. He knew about my meeting with father. He just . . . knew what to do, and I envied him for that.

I still glowered at the sight of him, knowing full well what his real intentions were this whole time. Sammy didn’t want me. He wanted a way out of here, he wanted to leave, and for some reason he wanted to help me.

Why?

I told myself I needed to see him in a different light, so why was it so hard to recognize that people could be sincere?

My fucked up childhood may have had the answer to that. Sammy couldn’t have known why I treated him in such a way. I did it intentionally, and so I must’ve hurt him immensely.

And all the while he stayed there, wanting to help me, as he’d done so for weeks. Why? Why? Why?

I glanced at the boy. He was biting his lip, deeply thinking. The way his teeth bit at his reddened lips drew goosebumps up my arm. And for a minute, like many minutes before, I wanted to be the one biting him.

He looked up at me with those big eyes of his, bigger and more pronounced when he wore glasses, as if testing my limit to see how much I could take of his charm.

I couldn’t tell him how much I wanted to . . . to destroy every last bit of his innocence. If anything, I’d hold my tongue and wait out the next two months until it was all over. Then, I’d have my way with as many people as I’d like. To expel his affect on me permanently.

“Something’s bothering you.” He said outright, eyes narrowing on mine. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

I sighed. We were in my bedroom, with the lights low. I’d repeatedly told him not to disturb me, but he did what he did best and went forward without listening to my demands. Having that connected room seriously was an inconvenience.

Though honestly, I did not want to be alone. And Sammy’s company was better than no one, so, I didn’t argue when he planted himself on my bed, determined to make me speak.

“If it’s about Felix—” I began, though he shook his head.

“He’s with Theo.” Sammy said, waving the subject away as if it were unimportant. “They’re fine. What’s not fine is you.” He emphasized the ‘you’.

Felix and Theo’s departure came as a shock to us. But I was relieved to have silence in the mansion again. My cousin didn’t stay for more than two days. That was uncommon. Though I could blame most of it on his personality, and the appearance of that friend, Theo.

Seriously, Felix could be a handful. He was blunt, a terrible flirt, and above all else he was my flesh and blood. I remembered spending my days with him in France, with the rest of his family there, in the years before my mother passed away.

He was the same, social butterfly I’d always known him to be. Though I never expected he’d go after someone I was so obviously involved with. It was most definitely done to get under my skin. Why would I like Sammy in the first place? Why did Felix think it was a good idea to ask me such a ridiculous question?

I wasn’t involved with Sammy in that way. And he sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted it either. I had to accept that he and I would never amount to anything. It was stupid of me to be jealous. I still couldn’t trust Sammy anyway. He was still a leech.

Again, I sighed.

He must’ve noticed my inner turmoil. “Is it—is . . . it about . . . ?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” I assured him dramatically, without feeling. I removed myself from the window to sit down at the edge of my bed, scowling.

“I’m only trying to help.” He muttered, playing with his sweater-paws.

I sat back, remembering the other night when I'd seen him cry. I didn't want the same thing to happen twice.

“Father.” I admitted. Defeated by my own memories. “It’s about my damn father.” 

Sammy would hear of it from grandmother anyway. It was pointless to hide anything from him. “I’ll tell you someday but—none of it is any good. It’s nothing for you to keep pestering me about.” I spat.

He fell silent, and dropped his gaze.

I hated when Sammy was quiet. Sure, I also hated him when he was loud, but loud was something and quiet was nothing.

Truthfully, I thought that maybe I’d gotten to him, that maybe he was at his limit and was finally done with my rotten personality. I wouldn’t have blamed him for it.

“You don’t have to be here.” I informed him, finishing the blow. He’d surely leave me. Everyone did.

Then, suddenly, a pair of arms came towards me, encircling my waist determinedly. Sammy was close, far too close, hugging me in a way I did not think was possible. It was comfortable, at least, on his part. I for one didn’t know what to do with myself.

Sammy spoke words loudly, and with his actions as well. It wasn’t surprising that he chose to hug me, even though I knew how much he despised me. I must’ve looked like a child to him.

“S-sammy.” I said, not sure what to do with sentimental human contact. “What are you doing? I’m not made of glass.”

“Aren't you?” He asked, not believing my words.

I watched him as he glanced up, our proximity limiting as we continued. “No . . . I’m not . . .”

Damn, I really let go and just got jealous over my cousin Felix, didn’t I? Though this . . . Sammy, here, doing this, helping me—of course I didn’t want Felix to take all of that.

I was selfish. So, so selfish.

“You want me to leave that badly?” Sammy whispered, glaring. He was angry. I didn’t think he knew exactly what he was doing. The last time he tried seducing me, he did half of it unintentionally.

I took his arms, and without saying a word, I dipped my hands beneath his sweater, feeling his warm skin. He made a small noise at my touch, making me hesitant. He must’ve been embarrassed, because his ears were turning the usual shade of red, the shade I so wanted to bite . . . and kiss . . .

“You’re doing the same thing.” I told him severely, dismissing my thoughts. I could feel myself becoming angry too. It was what we were best at, in the end. We only ever got mad at each other. “You’re seducing me, aren’t you? Tell me Sammy, who do you think will win in the end, really?”

When he didn’t question my actions, I kneeled over him, lifting my hands above me then to take my shirt up and off, feeling much too hot in the room with the summer night heat against the window outside. I did the same to Sammy, though with only his over-sized pink sweater.

Without saying anything, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, natural now that we’d done it before, and gazed at me dazedly, skin flushed and lips pink and shiny, ready to be kissed, even though I knew I wasn’t allowed to touch them.

I let my head fall to the crook of his neck, and then to his collarbones with my lips, taking in his warmth, stealing all of it. Slowly, I pushed him down against the bed, kissing the pulse beating on his skin with hot lips, wanting more.

I wondered why he let me do such things to him. He didn’t appear the sort to actually give in to delights like this. In fact, I knew Sammy must’ve loathed me. He was competitive, I’d found that out early on. I sure as hell was too. This whole seducing game was just plain ridiculous, but it was also interesting.

I sucked at a sensitive spot on his neck as he exhaled sharply. He shifted beneath me as I did so, holding onto my shoulders gently, with soft hands. I relished in the way he melted under any touch.

“Sammy,” I said, without being fully aware. “Just one kiss.” I whispered against his ear, grabbing at the belt loops of his jeans that fit a little too tightly around his legs, his thighs, his tiny waist, “A small one.”

He cradled my neck in his hands, gazing up at me with watered eyes. His glasses had fallen to the side on the pillows, revealing his young face. “Not . . .”

“Not what?” I pestered him. All I wanted to do was run my hands down his legs, his knees, to feel that he was indeed here, with me, wanting me despite how he actually felt. I was going to win this game. Not he.

Sammy turned away, red all around his shoulders and neck. God, did he want me dead? “N-nothing.”

I took his wrists then, feeling his rapid pulse. He wasn’t shaking, but he felt nervous. I put my lips against his fingers, traveling down his palm, until I reached his elbow, and then scooped down to get at his exposed shoulder peeking out from his over-sized shirt.

Our noses touched, and I stared down at him. I must’ve looked a complete mess. I wished I could’ve relieved this sudden feeling of lust with him but—I didn’t think Sammy would want that.

Would he even come if I touched him? I thought, though I quickly dispelled the image from my mind. I became too dizzy, too intoxicated just thinking about it.

But what about a kiss? How would Sammy taste if I kissed him on the lips? Would he taste like everyone else?

“Not even one kiss?” I said, pausing my advances. "You're impossible."

He merely looked up at me, face pink as he kept his arms around my shoulders. “You’re one to talk.”

“Are we really doing this? Now?” I made it a point to show him what we were currently doing. I was trying to seduce him, and he chose now of all times to get me angry? "Are we fighting?"

“You started it.” He argued back, bringing me forward.

“Continue this Sammy, and I’ll make sure to steal that first kiss of yours.” I threatened.

He stiffened, though he didn’t cease his hold on me.

“Did that scare you?” I asked, trying not to laugh. Was a kiss so very important to him? Kisses meant absolutely nothing. “Have I found a weakness?”

“Yes you’ve found my weakness.” He snapped. “Happy now?”

I nodded, pressing my forehead against his. He was as hot as I was. “Probably.”

“Probably—?” He began. I stopped him.

My lips found the side of his mouth, not nearly touching his own, but barely. His grip on me tightened, as if he were waiting for me to actually do it. He held no urgency as he did so. I could’ve stolen that kiss without a struggle. Was there a reason why he didn’t put up a fight? Did he not wholly believe my declaration?

I spoke against his skin, feeling him shiver, “I think you’ve forgotten one problem, Sammy.”

His knees lifted. “Lucas . . . what . . . ?”

I dropped my mouth to speak at his ear, “I’m going to make you fall in love with me.”

Sammy shook his head, “No—”

“Then I’ll be able to steal your first kiss.” I said, smiling. “I’ll win this game, Sammy. So just lose already.”

“Shut up.” He replied, he sounded somewhat breathless.

“Gladly,” I pressed my cold fingers against his hips, making him arch slightly. I wondered if he was enjoying this as much as I was.

Well, I was glad I stopped him from continuing on the subject he’d brought up from the very beginning. I didn’t want to talk about family. I especially didn’t want to involve Sammy with them any further.

I’d have to keep him in the dark. I couldn’t let him be tainted by the ones who tainted me. Sammy was a world I’d come to see in only a few weeks. He was someone strange, different—I couldn’t let him know any more about me.

That’s why I didn’t tell him about father. About the way father pointed out how different I’d changed since I last saw him in those many months. About how I told him to fuck off when he said he’d use my ‘new little toy’ in order to make me do his bidding. I hated how he called Sammy that. Father never did see anyone in the light, it was always darkness with him, unable to see people as people, just like the rest of the men in my family. 

I also didn’t tell Sammy that I wouldn’t let father touch him, no matter what threat he used at me. That was how I’d been able to run away from him for so long. I didn’t have anything but money. He took mother from me long ago. I had nothing else.

I squeezed Sammy’s hand, intertwining our fingers.

I had nothing else.

“You’re an idiot.” He told me, eyes averted from mine.

I couldn’t help but laugh, “Why?”

“I’m never going to fall in love with you.” He said.

“Of course not.” I assured him, squeezing his soft waist. “I won’t either.”

He looked back at me, blushing furiously. It was a good look on him. “You—you’re impossible—”

“So are you.” I responded.

Sammy hit his head gently on mine, clearly done with my teasing. It was fun, seeing him thrive in his natural fire. I couldn’t help but want to play with the flames before me, to see if I’d get burned too.

Because that was what Sammy was. He was like fire, and I was ice. We would never get along. Whatever thoughts I had during the party—I didn’t want them to matter. I couldn’t want Sammy, because, well, because I wasn’t allowed to.

There was no way he’d ever manage to make me change my mind about that.

He was fire.

I was ice.

We were never meant to be.

I rested my body against his, feeling his chest rise up and down as he breathed. Yes, he was still real. He wasn’t some passing stranger.

Sammy was here, with me. Though he wouldn’t be here for much longer. It was my duty to fulfill that. It was my duty from the beginning.

So why did I feel like I didn’t want him to go?

Why did I want . . .

“Distract me.” I ran my hands through his dark hair, gazing into his round eyes deeply.

His warm breath hit my mouth. “No. You should distract me.” He said, hinting at a smile.

I brushed a finger over his lips, thinking. There was so much I wanted to think about, but—why would I waste my time doing that when he was right there, with me?

What was thinking good for anyway?

I nodded, “Why not?”

Sammy was more important than thinking, more important than doubts, and opinions.

Sammy was the greatest distraction. I only wish I’d known that it was love influencing this distraction.

If I had known, then—

Then maybe I could’ve loved him longer.