Geeks need love

Emboldened by a friend's willingness to put herself and her writing out there. I wanted to share with you a piece of what I've been writing for class. This is the one love scene. The rest of the story has explosions. Big ones. And Jason Statham's pecs. Big ones.

Tom's the main character. He has issues--like prescription drug use issues. Sam's his pharmacist. He's been digging on her since they met. They're standing outside the pharmacy talking after she calls him out on filling a fake scrip. They talk about how effed up they both are, and how they come from the same place, mentally. I did not base this on anyone I know, so don't worry about thinking I'm talking about you. (You think this song's about you, don't you?) Well, OK, maybe the girl looks a little like my ex girlfriend. Sue me.

"Don’t get any ideas, buddy.” The smile finally returns on Sam’s face. Its stay is brief. “Look, I really don’t want to see you get fucked up or killed. I don’t need that. It took me a lot of work to get past what brought me to that point.” She points at our scars. “It was hard not to bring along any bad shit from that part of my life. I was lucky.” It stings a little to hear her say that. I wasn’t as strong as she. 

We both just stand there, soaking in the intimacy of understanding each other. She notices that she’s still holding onto my wrist and drops it in embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” she says quickly. The next few words take a bit more effort—much different from her usual calm, collected speech. “Listen. I’ve… I’ve been turning you down because I told myself I didn’t want to get sucked up into whatever you have going on. It’s not that I don’t—you know. Fuck! I know what I want to say. You know what I want to say.” My winning smile almost turns into a goofy grin. “I’m saying yes. It’s crazy and insane and stupid, but I want to see what happens. Just don’t be surprised when I leave because you’re beyond repair.” 

I grab Sam’s wrist and pull her against me. I just hold her. No musical crescendo. No Hollywood kiss. Just two bodies finding each other and connecting in space. We stand there for a few seconds. Long seconds. She nestles her cheek against my chest. I lay mine on her head and close my eyes. A few more seconds. Maybe a few minutes or hours. I couldn’t tell anymore—I don’t want to. I run my fingers slowly up her curls, and I hold the nape of her neck. Sam turns to look at me and hits me with that same benevolent smugness she gives me from behind the counter of the pharmacy. Fine. Fine. I concede. At this moment she owns my ass, and her smugness is well deserved. We kiss that Hollywood kiss I so pretentiously wanted to avoid. What the hell was I thinking? It. Fucking. Rocked.