psychicsam (psychicsam) wrote in btvsal, @ 2010-06-12 10:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | haylee james, place: la, ~samuel james |
Like Two Porcupines Kissing
Who: Haylee and Sam
Where: Avarice
When: Saturday, May 29th, Evening
The two weeks since Samuel had landed at LAX had been busy ones: first, there had been the impromptu evening he'd spent in the company of one Haylee James; then a meeting with Skylar to discuss his newly developed - and increasingly tiresome - "disability"; and a chance encounter with
And then there was Haylee. Since that night, they'd spoken a few times, but they hadn't seen one another again. The conversations, however, had been pleasant, good-natured exchanges. He'd called her first, waiting a few days before doing so on Skylar's advice, and she'd called back. She was busy in the studio, but she would make time for them to get together, Haylee had told him. Perhaps it had all merely been a pleasant fantasy that had lasted just that one night. The paparazzi, however, were convinced that there was more to the tryst, and he'd been surprised on more than one occasion by a battery of photographers snapping pictures of him coming out of his hotel. On this night, Sam had sequestered himself from the general population of Avarice and was seated in the VIP Lounge, drink in hand, a cigarette trailing a thin stream of smoke into the air as it rested on an ashtray. The voices in his head were a low rumble, like fast moving water coursing over boulders.
"Sam?" Came the voice from behind him, as Haylee James had come walking into the VIP area again, this time so dressed down that most people would likely not even recognize her. She had on white jeans, a Super Mario Brothers t-shirt, and a baseball cap and sunglasses. "Am... am I interrupting you?" She asked, looking adorably nervous. Clearly, for once she was trying to AVOID attention, which, if you knew her? Was RARE.
The music, of course, was loud, and the place was packed, which had been part of the reason Sam had chosen to sit up in the lounge in the first place. There simply was no room at the bar. James paused halfway through a sip from his glass - Jameson's on the rocks, of course - and turned when he heard that familiar voice. Fully expecting her to appear in one of her edgy ensembles, he was actually more surprised to see Haylee dressed as she was. "Haylee... " he said, blinking once. "Ah, no. No, not at all. Please," Sam continued, standing and gesturing to a chair. He was dressed in dark jeans and a vintage Springsteen tour shirt with a pair of black Docs, waiting until she sat before doing so himself.
"So... just hush for a minute and let me finish here. Even if I ramble like an oddball." Oh dear. "When we went back to my hotel room, I just kinda thought you were a sweet, handsome guy I could hang out with, have some fun with, no harm no foul. But I can't stop thinking about you, and I feel entirely and completely LAME about it. But I can't help it. I really LIKE you, Sam. And I actually think that was about it. So... fantastic. Huge ramble avoided." She smirked, trying to hide a hint of a blush.
Sam had opened his mouth to speak, but his jaw snapped shut when she told him to hush. What the hell...? He said not a word as she spoke, feeling his heart rise and fall, then rise again. That was... good, right? That she had been thinking about him? He'd certainly been thinking about her and had taken a fair amount of abuse from his sisters for it. "That's... that's really great, Haylee," he replied, groaning internally at his lame response. "Does it help that I'm really happy to see you?"
"Happy to..." She started to repeat, before just gawking at him. She'd just more or less admitted she wanted to continue seeing him, which for her was practically as rare as someone saying they wanted to marry someone, and he said this? Was he retarded??? "I... Sam, throw me some kind of rope here... what happened that night, was that all there was to it? Do you want more? More between us, I mean?"
"No, Jesus, I meant... " You're losing it, Sammo. This woman is practically throwing herself at you, you've been thinking about her ever since you lit that cigarette for her. "I meant I'm really happy to see you, Haylee. I haven't stopped thinking about you since that night. I felt like a fool that first time I called you. I... I had to dial your number three times before I let it ring." What the hell are you doing? "I really wanted to see you again, Haylee."
"So... despite the fact that we both seem to have the social skills of a retarded chimp when being ourselves... and the fact that I saw your little sister giving me the stink-eye last night...." Yeah, apparently
God dammit, Lydia, he thought, cursing his kid sister's name. He couldn't help but smile at her description of the awkwardness between them. That first night had been so easy, so effortless, but now that there was familiarity and emotion involved, the entire situation suddenly became exceedingly complicated. "Yes. Absolutely, yes. I like you, Haylee, a lot. I'd regret it forever if I didn't pursue this."
"I think I would too. I mean, it's not often I meet a guy and show him my mad SF2 skills in the same night." Sigh. As the mun facepalms... seriously, THAT was her idea of the real intimacy? SERIOUSLY?
"Yeah, that doesn't happen often with me, either," Sam confessed, smiling at her. "I think this would probably be a good time for us to take a seat and maybe do something normal, like play footsie under the table," he continued, grinning at her. The entire exchange had taken place with the two of them standing, gawking at one another like a couple of startled wading birds. He slid into his chair and glanced over at the waitress, then back to Haylee. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Yeah.. I think a drink would be good. Mind if we sit at one of the darker, more secluded tables up here though? Kinda trying not to be noticed tonight." After all, god forbid she were seen in normal clothing.
"Wherever you want," Sam said, getting up from his chair and pushing it in. Taking a quick look around the lounge, he nodded toward a cozy-looking corner booth that was in a darkened corner, well hidden from the patrons on the floor below. Samuel, drink and cigarette in hand, took a seat and scooted over, giving her plenty of room on the dark vinyl bench, glancing up at her as he took a last drag from his cig before stubbing it out into an ashtray.
"For the record? Your Street Fighter humiliation is far from complete. Next time? I'm gonna beat your ass using only Vega and T-Hawk." She gave a serious, raised-brow nod there, showing that yes, she was being totally serious.
"Look, I'm not going to lie - you're gorgeous when you're being cocky about an old school video game, Haylee," Sam said. Ease up on the witty banter there, Casanova. To his credit, he didn't follow that up with something totally cornball like, 'But then, you're gorgeous all the time.' "So, listen, I have to ask... I know you mentioned not wanting to be noticed, but... well, I hardly recognized you all covered up like that, Haylee."
"Honestly?" She sighed, admitting that, to tell him this? She MUST have it bad. "I have a bit of an anxiety complex. There are days that I get so panic-stricken about being bothered that I just stay inside ALL DAY. And I'm having one of those days. But I was dying a little inside thinking that you might have thought I was just... treating you like some little fling."
Sam tilted his head to the side as she spoke, his eyes searching her face, trying to look beyond the large sunglasses and the ball cap. That last statement, however, brought a ghost of a smile to his lips, one that tugged at the corners of his mouth. From the sound of things, she had it as bad as he did. "Well, I'm glad you found me. Come on," he said, patting the seat next to him, "sit with me." As she stood there fidgeting and speaking to him, he realized that he didn’t' need to be able to read minds to truly understand this woman. She was fascinating.