Playing with Forever

Chapter 42: April 3rd

I ran into Tristan again a week after his fight with Sam. I was walking out of the locker room in my sweats, on my way to the parking lot to go home after a long volleyball practice. 

Things had gone back to normal between me and Sam. We had talked more about our differing ideas of how he could help me against the Tristans of the world, and came to an agreement that violence would be a last resort. It wasn't Sam's idea, nor was he happy with it, but I insisted.

"Nice shorts," Tristan commented as I walked by that night. His eye and jaw were blackened in a gruesome sort of way, speaking to the force of Sam's punches. Sam had never developed any bruises after the fight due to his immortal healing, and his split lip had healed within an hour.

I glanced down at my shorts. Yes, they were pathetic, but Goodwill really hadn't had much to choose from.

"I know someone who would love to buy you some new ones," Tristan went on. "He's already bought you some nice things."

I didn't want to talk to him about Sam. I didn't let him buy me expensive things, either. I had a feeling he would buy me the world if I let him, with the way he spent his fortune. I'd asked him about it once, his endless money, and he said simply that he'd had multiple lifetimes to make lots of money, along with some confusing explanation of stocks and investing portfolios and accruing interest.

It didn't matter. He spent his money his way, and I spent the money I begged off my mother in my own. And that way didn't include buying new practice clothes.

I ignored Tristan and stalked past him. He let me slide by.

That Saturday, Sam and I took advantage of the early spring warmth as he treated me to a picnic at the park.

I picked at the charcuterie board Sam had made up as he laid back in the grass, hands behind his head in contentment. He'd already sketched the scene of us in the park, and feasted on the food with his graphite smeared hands. My eyes squeezed tight, I tried to focus my thoughts on the Acceptance again.

Sam.

Samuel Durand.

I blew out my breath angrily when the Acceptance didn't happen.

"Something wrong?" he asked, one eye open, peeking up at me.

"Nothing. Just frustrated."

Why wasn't it working? Was it because the thought of being immortal made me nervous? It didn't matter, Accepting didn't have anything to do with becoming immortal. It was a way to make Sam my soulmate while I kept my mortality.

I frowned, eyes still closed, as I thought of something new. It must be because deep down, I didn't believe I deserved Sam. That he deserved someone better, someone undamaged. A perfect can of soup, not the busted one.

Useless.

Sam broke me out of my dark thoughts soon after, though. "Have you thought about what you plan to do next year, Abigail?" he asked.

I didn't bother avoiding the question, just answered truthfully. Sam had always been supportive of me, so I doubted he'd push back on my plans. "I think I'm going to take a year off. I'm not ready to go to college just yet—I need a break." I ran my fingers through his hair, and he hummed happily. He didn't try to talk me out of it, and I loved him even more in that moment. "Will you..." I started, then paused nervously. "Will you stay with me?"