A Change with Sam

"How old are you today?" I asked her.

Sam blushed. "Nineteen. I was held back one year because of my, um, problem. From the other day," she said, looking back down at her piece and taking a bite.

"Well happy birthday Sam. What do you think of the cake?" I asked her.

"It's amazing. Where did you get it?" she asked me.

"I made it," I replied with a smile.

"You're joking."

"Nope. My dad owns a bakery and I've been helping him since I can remember. I really got into it a few years ago. I baked that cake last night after he closed up. Really," I said.

"Oh my god it's killer. I can't believe this," she said. She looked up at me with her sea-green eyes, hair plastered wetly to her neck and shoulders. Sam looked so different without makeup, and yet I loved how clean she looked, her skin rubbed down to a soft pink from the hot shower.

"You are the nicest person I've ever met. I just don't even understand. I'm so sorry for the last few days," she said.

I nodded. "It's fine. You needed your space. I was worried about you though. I wanted to be with you," I said. I took her hand, the one absent of a fork. "I really loved kissing you, Sam. The other day."

"I enjoyed it too. I'm really sorry for pushing you out. It's hard for me," she admitted.

"I know. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just, I really like you," I said.

Sam weighed me again, staring into my eyes. Whatever she saw this time made sense to her, and she put her fork down on her plate with half her slice of chocolate cake still left. My hand in hers, she lead me down the hallway and into a bedroom. There was a single bed, a desk with a laptop, a book case full of novels and textbooks, a television hooked up to a Playstation 2, a single chair. Stacks of folded clothes. Sam went over to her bed and sat down, patting the bed spread with one hand. I sat down next to her, the material soft on the palms of my hands.