In the process of “freeing himself to pursue his dreams”, had Sam tarnished them beyond recovery?
EXCERPT
Chapter 1
Sam
Balantyne trudged down the slushy sidewalk of the historic district of Greely,
Colorado, gazing unseeing into the falling slush. The gray sky suited his mood.
Very few people were foolish enough to be out walking in this mess. Most people
had the sense to be at home or somewhere warm. Not Sam. No, thanks to his
flaky, thoughtless sexy roommate, he walked down an icy street in a part of
town where even bikes were frowned upon just off campus. It was safe enough not
to look. No random cars would splash murky water on unwary pedestrians. No cars
were permitted on the brick work streets of Old Town.
Sam knew
where he was going and exactly how many steps in the icy slush it would take to
get there. An hour ago, he’d been contentedly lounging on his bed, studying for
midterms next week, when his flighty roommate called. He curled his hands into
fists inside the deep pockets of his navy wool pea coat. Fucking Matt. Such a goddamn pie-in-the-sky dreamer. How did I end up with an art student for a roommate
in the first place? Every month turned into a damn race against the clock
to see if Matt would be able to pull together his share of the rent, or the
cable, or whatever. Bad enough that Sam perpetually fed the man, now this.
Apparently
Matt had gotten the rent money but couldn’t be bothered to come home and give
it to Sam. No. Sam had to meet him at the soda shop off Fifth Street because
Matt had other things to do. Ordinarily, Sam loved the soda shop. He and Matt
had spent many great sunny afternoons there, sitting on the patio, guy watching
and laughing, even occasionally sharing a lemon Italian Cream Soda.
The
bitter cold wind cut through the thick wool of his coat, and Sam caught himself
wondering if Matt had had the sense to wear a jacket when he left the apartment
that morning. Probably not. The sun had been shining then, and Matt never could
see beyond the moment.
Someone,
possibly even Matt himself, had put a colorful knitted ski cap on the head of
the old stone lion that guarded the occult book shop next door to the soda
shop. The lilting notes of a sexy little jazz number drifted from the tiny bar
on the other side of the soda shop. The music and the light from the window
created a perfect backdrop for the vision that met Sam’s eyes when he looked
up. In the golden glow from the soda shop window, he saw Matt sitting at a tiny
table for two on the front patio of the shop. He wore a thin leather jacket and
Sam’s navy blue wool beanie tugged down low over his ears as he sat on the tiny
black iron chair. His booted feet rested on the other seat. Matt puffed on one
of the little clove cigarettes he favored and cupped hands covered in
fingerless gloves around the tiny source of heat. The little table in front of
him held an ashtray and two steaming mugs of hot chocolate into which the
slushy snow fell.
Sam
shook his head. Smoking cloves was bad enough, better than tobacco scent-wise
by a small margin, but who the hell sat on the patio in this freaking weather? Airheaded
art majors, that was who. “God damn it, Matt! How many times have I told you to
dress warmly when you leave the house? You’re going to get sick! And…” The
words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them, a ludicrous tirade that
his own mother would have cringed to hear. He snatched the cigarette out of his
roommate’s hand. “Smoking this shit will kill you!”
Matt
turned to look at him, and Sam nearly groaned. The heavy feeling in his heart,
the anger at Matt’s foolishness, seemed to melt away as he caught the
expression in those bright blue eyes. He wasn’t surprised to find his own heart
beating faster, stirring with desire despite the cold. He was surprised by the lilt of happiness that brightened the gray of
the late winter day. Fuck. He didn’t want to feel this way, to let anyone have
the ability to create sunshine in his day with a crooked little smile. Especially
not Matt. Matt drifted along perfectly content, dreaming and painting and
starving for his art. Sam dreamed of bigger things. He wanted success, the
bright lights of a big city, and by big he didn’t mean Denver! He wanted all
the luxuries life could afford. And that look in Matt’s eyes… had he always
looked at him that way?
Matt
removed his boots from the seat with a grimace.
“No,
thanks. I’ll pass. Look. I’m going home this weekend.” He hadn’t planned to,
but a weekend in Denver with his mom and dad, siblings running all over, would
screw his head back on straight. “You keep the rent money. Use it to find
another place to stay, okay? I can’t keep doing this every month.”
Matt
protested instantly, the shock on his face heart-wrenching. “Sam, I promise. It
won’t happen again. I got a job. That’s why I couldn’t come to the apartment.”
Sam
shook his head, schooling his features to hide his feelings. “No. It’s just not
working out for us.” But it could, his heart argued. He shut it down instantly.
Not taking that chance. Better to end things now, before either of them got any
more involved and while they both still had the chance to make their dreams
come true.
“Sam, I
love you. I don’t want to move out. Just, please, give me one more month to
prove I can do this?” Matt’s voice cracked on the words he forced out. Sam
couldn’t tell if tears or melting snowflakes caused the dampness on his pale
cheeks.
Hardening
his heart, Sam continued, “That’s just it, Matt. I don’t want to be loved. I
don’t want to love anyone. I just wanted to get laid a little. I need freedom
to pursue my dreams, and taking care of you, it’s a burden I don’t want. I
thought it was all just fun. You’re taking things way too seriously. So,
please, do us both a favor and leave before I get back Monday afternoon?” His
dad would lend him the money for the rent this month.
Unable
to meet those blue eyes without throwing his arms around Matt’s slim shoulders
and hugging him tight, without promising that they could try again, without
swearing he would never be such an ass again, Sam turned and stumbled against
the stone lion, knocking the knit cap into the slush, where eddies of muddy
liquid blurred its bright colors. He whirled and tromped back up the street
he’d just come down, ignoring Matt calling his name behind him as he went.
