his chin. He was one of those peculiarly handsome metropolitan men that could model department store sweaters and get away with wearing pink. He was masculine enough that one could actually call him pretty. It was frustrating kissing someone you knew was prettier than yourself.
Sam was never referred to as anything beyond cute. She supposed she had that American girl-next-door thing going for her. Plain, straight brown hair, boring brown eyes, skin that only burned and freckled in the sun, and dusty colored eyelashes. By the time she was sixteen, she already accepted that no amount of makeup would hide the freckles that covered the crests of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She was plain, pure and simple. She wondered if Braydon’s family would question what he was doing with such a girl.
She didn’t even own makeup. She wore Chap Stick, but she didn’t think that counted. Going to school in the more metro section of Philadelphia brought out a lot of impulses to appear more sophisticated, but it was too much, on top of school and worrying about her parents, to keep up with the Joneses as well.
She’d resigned herself to being a cotton-blend kind of girl. While the rest of the world fought to squeeze their hips into skinny jeans, Sam decided her worn in boot cut ones were just fine. They were only clothes. What mattered was what was on the inside.
But if that was true, why was she suddenly wishing she brought a more impressive wardrobe with her to meet the McCulloughs? She was being ridiculous. Having never suffered from superficial insecurities before, it didn’t make sense, at age twenty-four to give such silly doubts space in her mind. She supposed it was hearing Braydon refer to her earlier as his girlfriend that triggered this unusual train of thought.
Was she his girlfriend? He hadn’t asked her out. They hadn’t slept together. When she met him four months ago he asked her if she was going to an event being sponsored by Villanova at the student union building. She was and of course told him so.
It was through the interference of mutual friend that she found herself sitting next to Braydon for the day of the event. A week later they were having lunch together at a local brewery, but, again, friends had orchestrated their meeting. It wasn’t until they’d been set up several times that Braydon finally asked for her number. And once he had her number it took a week for him to use it.
At that point there was no lengthy phone call that left her exhausted the next morning or with butterflies in the pit of her stomach. No. When he’d used her phone number it was simply to text her and ask what time she was heading to the cafeteria for dinner on a random night. Their lackluster acquaintance progressed as such over the following weeks.
She wasn’t dense and she wasn’t sending mixed signals, so of course she was surprised that Braydon wanted her to come home with him. Apparently he felt a stronger connection, or at least was assuming one, more than anything she felt between the two of them so far. Not to say the possibility of a strong connection didn’t exist Sam just hadn’t sensed it yet. Perhaps these upcoming weeks would deepen their connection. She should probably be nervous at the possibility of becoming more with Braydon, but all she could muster was a curious sense of indifference. She liked him, but their chemistry was…manageable. She wasn’t concerned with losing herself in the moment or having a sudden attack of butterflies in her stomach. Maybe there was something wrong with her.
She enjoyed Braydon’s company, but the bottom line was that she was a realist. They simply hadn’t spent enough time together to truly know one and other and, as far as casual sex, well, Samantha had never been that type of girl.
She’d be willing to see how things progressed, but she wasn’t some hard-up romantic prepared to settle for the shell of a relationship lacking any depth. If Braydon expected her to actually be his girlfriend then he’d have to open up a bit more, let her see what exactly was ticking in that head of his. Because, to be perfectly honest, half the time Sam had no idea what he was thinking. It wasn’t until he walked her back to her apartment late one night at school and kissed her that she realized they were