The Exchange Student

Chapter 1

You have to understand, my brother is a pain in the butt. Not only is he going through that awkward growth spurt, but all he ever has is sex on his mind. But can I blame him? He’s 17 and really, that’s all 17 year old boys are known for doing. Well that, and listening to crappy music.
I heard my mom’s voice from downstairs, announcing dinner time. I switched off my desk light and shut my laptop. I swished open the door, allowing my nose to distinguish the smell coming from the kitchen. I’m thinking chicken and… possibly rice.
As I ran down the stairs, I could see my brother Brandon shuffling slowly. By the time he had covered the total distance of five feet to the table, I had traveled twice as far and was sitting down. Man, I’m so glad I’m a girl.
As my mother, Cherie, put down various dishes, each one smelling more exquisite than the other, I heard the front door open. Dad. Perfect timing as always. I heard the familiar sound of his car keys being placed on their assigned hook and the muffled sound of his jacket on the hanger. He walked in, dropping his briefcase. It made a soft thumping sound. My mother got up and quickly gave him a peck, then proceeded to placing various beverages on the table. We like our selection.
My dad came around, giving my brother and I a kiss on the cheek each. I was pleased to see my brother wasn’t finding that lame yet.
“So Dad, how was work?” I said, as we commenced our dinner.
He smiled, pouring some gravy on his chicken. “Just superb as always,” he said with an obvious sarcastic undertone. “And how were your days?” he enquired, addressing each and every one of us.
My mother talked about the “scandalous ladies from the PTA” and how she’s very disappointed with the decisions made in Top Chef, or whichever cooking show it is now. My brother, being the intellectual that he is, said his day was “Lame.” I went into a lengthy tale of how I disagreed with my Politics teacher’s way of viewing immigration. Although I felt my father was interested, I quickly dropped the subject as I could see my mother start to rearrange individual pieces of rice on her plate.
My mother happily looked up when she heard the silence. “So Brandon, when’s your friend coming?”
Brandon, who had just propped the size of Iceland into his mouth, took a while to answer. “He’s not my friend, Mom. I don’t even know this guy. All I know is he’s from Argentina, goes to Lincoln Buenos Aires and his name is Sam.”
“Well that’s something. You know, this exchange program lasts for 2 weeks. You can’t just pretend he’s not there,” my mother reminded him.
“And you can’t just ditch him to go hang out with your little girlfriend either,” I added smugly.
“Shut up, nerd!” Brandon recoiled.
“Moron,” I sneered.
“Charlotte, Brandon, please!” My father raised his voice just slightly. We both looked at our plates. When he sensed things had cooled down, he proceeded. “So, when is Samuel arriving?”
“Tomorrow morning, he’s coming straight to school.”
“Ah wonderful,” my mother said, smiling at Brandon who returned a sarcastic smile.
“Oh Goody!” he said, clapping his hands in typical Mom-fashion.

Chapter 2
I saw a group of 20 odd students in the front office as I walked to my homeroom classroom. They must be the exchange students, I thought to myself. They all looked fairly Latino to me, with smoldering black eyes and thick brown locks. Even with winter approaching, their skin was still a perfect caramel color and their lips thick and luscious. All right, so not all of them looked exactly like that. My glance fixated mostly on a group of tall, sturdy looking guys near the window.
Two of them were nearly identical, with slightly different noses and one guy’s eyebrows seemed more arched. On their left was the most muscular of the group, somewhat stockier but the leader nonetheless. Then leaning against the wall was the most perfect specimen of humanity I have ever seen.
He was the tallest of the bunch, with broad shoulders and that perfectly tanned skin. His eyes were a deep-set blue, uncharacteristically mischievous for their color. He had a strong chin and I could see healthy stubble on his side and lower jaw. And then his hair, a black mahogany that curled softly at the sides and around his ears.
As I snapped out of my trance, trying to console myself for having to leave his sight, the miracle of miracles happened. The genetic sensation approached me, confident and grinning slightly.
“Ey, chica! Can I just ask where the resting room is?” he enquired, flipping his hair back and cracking his fingers nonchalantly. I cringed at the sound. “I’m sorry, does that bother you?”
“No, no. It’s fine,” I stuttered, my voice an octave higher than usual. I took a breath, gathered my courage, and continued: “The bathroom is just down the corridor to your left,” I muttered, an octave lower.
“Why don’t you give him a personal tour, guapa?” One of his friends yelled from behind.
I glared at him, and then smiled at the Hispanic Adonis. “Tempting, but I got to go to class. Plus, you look like you can take care of yourself.”
“But going alone would just be half of the fun now wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe some other time, Mr. James Dean.”
“I’m holding you to that, chica.”
I shook my head, and walked confidently into the classroom. As soon as I was inside, I leaned against the wall, took a deep breath and kept a permanent smile on my face for the preceding nine hours.

Chapter 3
I got home late due to Drama. It had been a great session, mainly due to my natural high which gave me the curious ability to interpret a pregnant sloth for the major part of the hour. I took the bus home, again, strangely optimistic regarding the piles of homework awaiting me. Taking out my keys, I pondered on how much time I would have to watch Big Bang Theory. I planned to squeeze it in between the two History essays.
I opened the door and hung my jacket on the hook. I noticed a long, sleek, black coat on the last hook. It was too stylish to be Brandon’s and too early to be Dad’s. I then saw the suitcase leaning against the side table not far from the kitchen, and realized it must be Sam’s.
I walked into the kitchen, absentmindedly opening a cupboard and grabbed a Snickers bar. As I turned around, I heard Brandon talking to, what I assumed to be Sam, since I didn’t recognize his voice. They walked into the kitchen and the piece of Snickers currently in my mouth nearly fell out as I stood gaping at Sam. Sam was Wonder Boy. The sexy Alpha Male from this morning was Sam. Sam was the genetic miracle. And the genetic miracle was in my house. My house was being occupied by a gorgeous alien sent from Mars to kidnap me and make me their queen. I’m not kidding, that is exactly what went through my head in a mere three seconds.
Brandon then laughed at me, yelling “Hey dork, close your mouth!”
I did, pulled myself together and sneered at him. Then I turned to Sam, “Hi, I haven’t properly introduced myself yet. I’m Charlotte.” I held out my hand.
“Sam.” He said, his hands still in his pockets. My eyes widened and I retracted my hand. Rude!

I had avoided Sam after the kitchen incident and only came out of my room when it was dinnertime. I was already dreading the potentially disastrous meal when matters got worse with the sending of a message from my nostrils to my brain in the time span of half a nanosecond that we would be eating sushi. I hate sushi.
I must have been a sight for sore eyes as I stomped to the table, gave my mom the evil eye and made a point not to look at Sam. My mother laughed and turned to Sam, “Charlotte’s not a big fan of sushi.”
“That’s an understatement,” I mumbled.
“Well, I like sushi, Mrs. Powers,” Sam asserted.
“Goody!” I squealed, getting a laugh out of my brother.
Then the series of typical awkward questions parents ask their offspring’s friends commenced. Sam was very much the talkative type; very different to my brother who stuck to grunts or the occasional monosyllabic answer.
“So Samuel, how goes your schooling?” As my father asked this, I could see him measuring the length of Sam’s hair and thinking it needed just a trim. My father had already given up on Brandon’s hair, telling all of his friends that Brandon’s hairdresser must have died.
Anyway, Sam said: “Well I go to an international school, which means I’m taught mostly in English but also take Spanish and German. I love the multicultural environment and we’ve got great extra-curriculars. Though, it’s nothing compared to what you have here in America.” Although I wanted to write SUCK UP in big bold letters on his forehead in purple permanent marker, I couldn’t help but find him dazzlingly charming. And neither could my mother.
Her next series of questions were all asked in such a fashion that if Sam hadn’t been a minor, my father should be concerned. On second thought, he should still be concerned.
Then my mother asked the question that had been on my mind since the first time I saw him. “So Sam, now that we’ve gotten to know each other a little bit better. Can I ask… Do you have a girlfriend?”
At first I was so embarrassed I could have crawled under the table and stayed there until people in long white coats and masks carried me off to an insane asylum because my behavior had led them to the only conclusion they could have mustered up: brain damage. But then I was thankful for her bluntness.
“No, ma’am.”
“Aw, and here I thought I’d be hearing some gossip.”
“Sorry to disappoint you Mrs. Powers. As soon as I get one, you’ll be the first to know.” It was the first time he had looked at me all evening, and although I was still angry about this afternoon, I couldn’t help but smile to then avert my eyes timidly.
And that is how he wrapped my parents around his little finger, something that would have taken my brother years to do.

It was Thursday, which meant my parents would occupy the TV for the rest of the evening and that left the dishes to us. I tried to stop myself from staring at Sam, but the way he was carrying those plates and holding that cutlery was driving me insane. You know how some people can just do anything and make it look good? I guess it’s genetic, because none of my family members possess such a character trait. But I didn’t want him to know I was completely smitten. I compromised by simply relishing at the site of his back.
“So Sam,” I finally said, “What did you think of our school?”
Brandon looked at Sam attentively, who shrugged and said, “Average.”
Brandon added, “The girls are hot though aren’t they?”
“Some are, “ he said, grinning at Brandon. Then he looked at me and added, “Some not so much.” Brandon and Sam both laughed.
“You’re both asses,” I reciprocated.
“Aw, don’t take it personal, sis.”
“Yeah, well don’t take it personal either when I tell you that shirt makes it look like you have man-boobs.” I could tell Sam wanted to laugh, but instead he shrugged nonchalantly like Brandon.
As soon as we started the dishes, Brandon conveniently got a phone call. “Sorry, it’s Kate,” he said, pointing at the phone. Before leaving the room he said comically, “Come on you two, mingle. But keep it PG.”
I rolled my eyes and went back to washing the dishes. We worked in silence for about a minute, in which Sam would always brush slightly against me when picking up new items to dry. I hadn’t known this to be possible but his touch made me moan internally.
I then dropped my plate and turned to him. “OK, so what’s the deal? Do you hate me, do you like me? Are you bipolar? Have you seen a doctor about this?”
“Ah so you’re feisty,” he said, swinging his towel over his shoulder.
“And you’re an ass.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not really. I just can’t be nice to you in front of your brother. He made it very clear to me you’re off limits. He’ll think I’m trying to get in your pants,” he said, cautiously.
“Judging by the incident this morning, I would assume you are trying to get in my pants.” I placed my hand on my hip.
He puffed. “How come you’re so sure about that?” he said, slowly approaching me.
“It was a lucky guess,” I said, my voice quavering as he approached.
“You know, I wasn’t serious when I said some girls weren’t hot.” He was now so close to me, I had to concentrate on other things to keep from hyperventilating. I decided to count the number of squares on his checkered pullover. It wasn’t helping.
“You see…” he started, his voice faltering as his hand slowly grazed my cheek. “You are just…” he said again, lifting my chin up slightly. My eyes widened and my stomach convulsed. Suddenly I heard my brother’s footsteps approaching. “…Too unavailable,” he finished, picking up a glass and walking towards my brother.
“She’s made no progress,” he said, shaking his head. Brandon laughed.
“All she’s good for is reading books. Doesn’t she know that’s not how the roles should be? A woman belongs in the kitchen,” Brandon said mockingly.
“I’m not even going to start on you,” I said, picking up my sponge and dropping it in Sam’s empty hand. “Or you,” I added, and stomped out of the kitchen. Boys, I hate them all.

Chapter 4
         I opened up my locker and got out my books the next day. Lily, my best friend, was leaning against my neighbor’s locker, complaining about the pop quiz they had had in Math class. I was only half-listening. I was too busy trying to figure out whether Sam hated me or liked me, and whether I hated him or liked him. Lily finally tapped my locker.
         “Hey loser, LISTEN!”
         I nodded apologetically, “Sorry, I am, I am.”
         “Well… I actually finished the story,” she said awkwardly. I laughed. Then she smiled again, “Oh!” Her eyes lit up. “The party tonight. Am I going to your house or are you coming to mine?” I pondered the question. Although I would have more clothes to choose from at my house, Sam would be there and I don’t think I could deal with him insulting me again.
         “Let’s go to yours,” I finally chose.
         “All right.” We kept walking, nodding to people in the hallway. “Oh, I forgot to ask. How’s the exchange kid?”
         The questions caught me off guard and Lily picked up on my doubtful expression. “That bad?”
         I half-smiled, half-frowned. “He’s very good looking but so confusing and pfff… I don’t want to talk about it!” The answer didn’t seem to satisfy her. “I’ll talk about it later today ok?” She nodded and the bell rang.

         I took Chemistry HL with the 11th graders, and Sam was in my class with Brandon. I barely acknowledged his presence as I walked into the room, although I was certain he’d been staring at me. I sat down, still in my weird, morose mood from before. 
         As Mr. Hindley babbled on about electrons and protons, I flipped through our textbook absentmindedly. Suddenly a note landed on my desk and I looked around to see where it had come from. Sam looked at me meaningfully. I squinted my eyes at him, trying to exude annoyance although I’m positive joy was evident as well.
         The note read: Are you going to this party tonight? I was going but unsure of how to respond. I tentatively penned an answer but then scratched it out again. I looked over at him. He was musing over my hesitation, and a half-smile appeared on his face. I blushed crimson and looked back at my page. Finally I wrote: Yeah. Are you?
         I threw the note back to him and pretended to listen to the teacher. I was staring at Mr. Hindley but cannot recall a single word he uttered. My heart accelerated threefold when the note landed on my desk again. I quickly grabbed it and unfolded it under the table. It said: It should be fun if you’re there. Whatever happened to that offer to show me to the restrooms? I looked over and rolled my eyes at him, simultaneously shaking my head and mouthing the word “no.” He laughed and although I feigned annoyance, I’m quite sure he saw my eyes sparkle with pleasure. When the bell rang, I scrunched the note into a ball and threw it at him.
         “Wait!” he said, before I could grab my backpack off my chair and depart. We waited for the others to leave, Mr. Hindley hurrying off to lunch with my other classmates. “I don’t want you bringing another guy,” he finally uttered quickly.
         “What other guy would I bring?” I demanded.
         “Cameron.” Cameron was one of my best friends, and although many girls swooned over him, we knew that we were both strictly friends.
         “What’s it to you?” I sneered, tilting my head. He shrugged. My brow furrowed in annoyance. “Seems to me you’re only interested when I’m unavailable.”
He stood up and approached so that I sat back down at my desk. He towered over me, dazzling me into silent awe.
         “Just don’t bring anyone else.” He picked up his bag and strolled out of the classroom. I gaped after him, frowning in a very unattractive manner.

Chapter 5
         I took unusually long to get ready that evening. Lily wasn’t much help, obsessing over every little hair strand for at least two hours. She insisted on dressing me personally though, with a short deep purple dress and golden tights.  I thought I looked amusing and actually felt OK going dressed as I did. After all, the theme of the party was Psychedelic! and Lily’s hot pink stripy leggings with a white tank top and yellow vest definitely outdid me.
         Lily drove us to the party. Ever since she got her driving license, my life has become so much easier. My parents are also extremely thankful. And I chip in for gas once in a while, so I don’t feel bad for “taking advantage” of her vehicle. That sounds wrong…
         Anyway! Sam wasn’t there yet when I got to the party, so Lily and I greeted everyone and then joined our usual circle of friends: Cameron, Landon and Cheries. I had told Lily about Sam and so she was keeping an eye out for him as well. The others didn’t know, because I knew I’d never hear the end of it.
         The dance floor started to fill up and I grabbed Cheries and Cameron with me. Lily took a hold of Landon. As I moved to the beat, I almost forgot about Sam. Cheries was twirling me around and Cameron was making the moves on the girl next to him. I laughed and pointed it out to Lily. She giggled as well.
         Suddenly I felt hands on my hips and I took a hold of one of them, sure that it was Landon. My body was moving with his and I lifted my free hand up to playfully touch his cheek. We often played this game, and it was really just innocent flirting. Then instead of Landon’s baby smooth cheeks (he was a late bloomer), I felt soft stubble. I turned around, only to have Sam’s lips a mere four inches from mine. His dark sapphires penetrated through to my soul, and all of a sudden all I could hear was the loud thud of the music. The heat around me seemed overbearing and I was lost in the confusion of peoples’ bodies grinding against each other. I was suddenly very aware of my hand still in his. He lifted it slowly and placed it on his chest. He leaned forward and I closed my eyes, incapable of resisting him.          
         When his lips almost grazed mine, and his hot breath filled my nostrils, I unwillingly tightened my hand on his chest, grabbing his shirt. He suddenly moved away and whispered in my ear. “You look nice.”
         
         Lily pulled me aside, squealing excitedly: “WHAT HAPPENED THERE??!!” I wanted to respond but wasn’t sure either. After he had whispered in my ear, I just remember letting go of his shirt and standing on the dance floor, dumbfounded.
         “He said I looked nice,” I said, stumbling on my words. I had a feeling I sounded slightly delusional. She nodded, pensively.
         “Well that’s good, that’s good.” I stared at her, and then decided to just repeat whatever she was doing. So I too nodded pensively. “Did he say anything else?”
         I stopped nodding, just as she had, instead pulling back my hair. “No, I don’t believe he did…is that bad? Should I have said something?” I questioned, eyelashes fluttering.
         “No, no you were perfect. Look, you like this guy right?” I nodded feverishly. “Ok, so just let him woo you.”
         “Ok, let him woo me. Got it!” I turned around to hit the dance floor again when Lily pulled me back.
         “But don’t do anything you don’t want to do yet? GOT IT?”
         I pulled my arm loose. “Geesh Lily, of course not. I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” and I pecked her on the cheek. Her cheeks flushed crimson, giving her a comical glow.
         “No, don’t do that either. Don’t do anything Cheries wouldn’t do—that sounds like a much better plan.”
         I laughed. “Okey-dokey!”

         I couldn’t find Sam anywhere but I had made up my mind to just let him find me. So after a solid hour of dancing, I looked for Cheries or Lily to accompany me to the bathroom. I’m a girl, so no, there isn’t any need to explain why we go in pairs.
         Lily was chatting up the bartender and Cheries was comforting a friend in the corner. I contemplated asking Landon or Cameron but thought that would just hurt their male egos too much. I chose to go alone.
         As I walked down the empty corridor to the bathroom, I counted the doors to make sure I got the right one—I was following Madeline’s instructions. I came to the fourth door on the left and was about to open it when I heard my name. I turned around to see Sam a few yards away. He had his boyish grin on and his hair was tousled and unkempt—just the way I liked it, I though to myself.
         “So, I would say now is as good of a time as any to give me that tour,” he said, grinning and walking towards me with his hands comfortably at his sides. My brow furrowed in slight incomprehension. “Of the restroom, Charlotte.”
It was the first time he had called me by my name. My heart beat loudly.
         “You think so?” I said, leaning against the door. He came even closer, his eyes full of mischief.
         “Mmm-hmm” was all he replied. There was a large part of me that itched for him to come closer and finish what he had started on the dance floor. But a far more dominant part of me was cautious. It was probably all just a game to him, I considered. Initially I was hurt at the thought that I would probably just be another girl that Sam could brag to his friends about. He was certainly the type: confident, good-looking, and popular… But then again, it seemed a bit presumptuous of me to think him so shallow. Then a third thought occurred to me, something I had never considered doing in my past “relationships.”
I smiled at the thought, which he interpreted as my willingness to “give him a tour.” He was now close enough to softly brush a strand of hair from my face. I wrapped my hand around his and with my other opened the bathroom door. I moved with the door, leading him in before me. I felt as if we were moving in slow motion, so carefully did we watch each other’s motions. I let go of his hand once he was fully inside. I smiled again, bit my lip out of habit and then wrapped both of my arms around his neck.
“Thing is Sam…” I started to say slowly, curling my finger around the locks in the nape of his neck. “You are just too…” I continued, letting my breath land hotly on his face, “…available.” With that, I let go of him and before he could come to his senses, shut the door behind me.
I ran back to my friends, thinking: If he’s going to play, count me in.
         
Chapter 6
         I walked over to the poker table, where about three people were actually playing poker and the other 15 were sitting around, chatting and drinking. I could tell Sam was not a newcomer to alcohol, as he happily poured down one beer after another. I made a note to remember he was under the influence. But hell, so was I.
         I sat down next to him, smiling warmly at him. He looked me up and down and then handed me a drink. “Here, join the party!”
         I refused the beer, saying, “Sorry, beer’s not really my thing.”
         He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Not your thing? Miss Powers doesn’t drink?” He seemed intrigued and skeptical at the same time.
         “I said I didn’t like beer,” and I poured myself and him a shot. “Now this on the other hand, I like.”
         “Tequila, really?” He leaned closer to me, and I suddenly felt his foot play with mine. He stroked it up and down my leg, brushing his shoulder against mine simultaneously. It took every ounce of concentration not to lose face. I was wearing heels and my skin was even more sensitive to his touch. His foot entwined with mine, and for a moment I considered taking him up on his offer in the corridor.
         Then I remembered that it was just a game. “Well, if you’re not having any…” I took my shot in hand, licked a bit of salt off my palm, downed the tequila and sucked on the lemon. He just stood there in shock.
         “I’ll have this then,” I said, taking his shot and standing up. I leaned in to whisper in his ear, “It’s not that easy, Antonio Banderas.” I walked away.
         He yelled after me, “He’s Spanish!”

It was surprisingly easy to play along; surprisingly easy not to be myself. It was thrilling really how powerful I felt, thinking I had him wrapped around my finger. Little did I know, Sam was the master at his own game.
I knocked into someone with surprisingly wide shoulders, and as I stood staring after them, I could only faintly feel something gliding off my neck. My hands, by reflex, grabbled the air for something tangible but found nothing. I touched my neck and quickly realized my necklace was missing.
I took out my cell phone, aware that it was difficult to see in the dimly lit party room, and searched the floor. I finally found the slender silver locket and picked it up. To no surprise, Sam was standing right next to me. He took the necklace from my hands and said, “May I?” I eyed him suspiciously. He was giving me a cheeky smile, and his eyes were masks of puppy-like innocence. I nodded and half-smiled.
He gently placed one hand on my hip to turn me around, my back facing him. He brushed my hair aside, his fingertips pulsing warmly against my bare skin. I kept my hair in place by holding on to it with my right hand, the other tightly wrapping around my dress. Even though he was barely touching me, I was starting to feel faint and weak-kneed.
His arms swooped over my head and around my neck as he placed the cool necklace against my collarbone. He fumbled a bit with the chain, which made me giggle, but then finally managed to clasp it together. He took hold of my hair, and instead of putting it back behind my shoulders like I had expected him to, he softly planted a kiss on my neck.
Waiting for my reaction, I suppose, there was a moment of hesitation. Then his lips once against brushed against my skin, his hot breath lingering ever-too long on the chosen spot. He moved slowly from my neck down my shoulder, ever so gently pulling down the strap of my dress. I let go of my garment and searched for his hand. He traced his thumb up and down my palm and I finally entwined my hand with his. His thick lips continued to brush tenderly over my shoulder, leaving me utterly speechless.
As I resolved to turn around and end the game, he let go of my hand and pulled my strap back up. “There you go,” he said, careful not to meet my eye before he headed back to the rest of the group.
Oh he’s good… real good.

For the next half an hour or so, as I calmed down and found refuge with my friends, my mind was spinning. Although my brain was fortunately still able to keep my heart pumping and my breathing steady, all of its other functions had seemed to stop to make room for the giant cloud of Sam that dominated my brain space. A fraction of me was rejoicing, happy to finally be out of the year long boy-free rut I had been in. Yet another part was wondering why I was playing this game and not just over there with him. A third, very minute fraction was listing reasons why Sam was trouble and that I should stay in this rut a little longer, only to have a better boy come along. And then the far more dominant part of my mind was replaying the night’s events over in my head. Every move he made, every word he had said seemed to me, at that very moment, like the Ten Commandments. I do believe that if anyone had tried to start a conversation with me, which thankfully my friends knew not to do, I would’ve had deep troubles trying to utter anything sensible. All I could do is stare happily at the disco ball hanging from the ceiling and reliving the night.
My head was so filled with muddled memories and fluffy thoughts that I was not even able to snarl at myself in disgust. I had known girls that did this, labeled them as pathetic losers, and continued my life as an atypical teenager. And now, the dread… I too have been drafted into Cupid’s ridiculous ranks of love-struck teenagers forced to fight for a love that has the chance in a million of working out. Mostly because the boys we like are so hormonal, sexually frustrated and one-track minded that their ability to have feelings for a girl for longer than a week, seems to be the equivalent of teaching a cat to sit on command. I wondered if Sam had a cat… I frowned in frustration at my own ridiculousness and slapped myself. I suddenly stood up in fear at the thought that my mind might have been turned into a pink, heart-spotted muddy puddy.
Lily took my hand and laughed. “You just slapped yourself you idiot!”
I shook my head in helpless lament and nodded. “Lily!” I cried in desperation, a bit too melodramatic for my taste. “Tell me what to do!”
She pondered for a moment, looked me up and down and said: “Listen child,” she started. I smiled comically. “You look way too hot to just sit here, love struck. You have two choices: you either sit here for the rest of the night trying to forget about him, or you go find him and do what you really want to do.”
I laughed; amused at the fact that she thought I had a choice. “But he’s playing games. He’s just playing games with me.” I pouted in frustration.
She smiled, a motherly smile of reassurance she had mastered over the years. “Charlotte, you’re a winner, you got that? You’re one of the most competitive people I know. So you’re not going to lose this game. You wouldn’t want to lose now would you?” she finished, teasingly.
“Oh hell no,” I said, fixing my dress and flipping back my curls. “Here comes round two, Sam Rugano.”

Chapter 7
I found him back at the poker table, this time actually playing. Before heading there, I had grabbed a cocktail and I slowly walked opposite to where he was sitting, sipping from my drink. He saw me immediately, and smiled mischievously. I half-smiled back, eyeing him only. He confidently said, “Raise”, throwing in a few chips, the special attention he was receiving from me helping boost his ego. He put his cards back down, his eyes signaling to me to sit down next to him. I ignored them, pretending to focus on the game. I had to be in control, he wasn’t going to tell me what to do.
The game continued, three players folding and only one calling. Some guy I vaguely remember seeing at school, though I couldn’t for the life of me remember his name. The dealer, which happened to be Chris, my neighbor, carefully put the last card down. I had no idea what Sam had, and his masterful poker face made it impossible to guess at his hand. The bland opponent was easier to read, as his heart seemed to sink at the sight of the Jack of Spades. Sam raised another 5 red chips, who’s worth I was unsure of, and Mr. Non Descript stared at him, swallowing visibly. He looked at his small stack of chips left and finally threw his cards down. “I fold,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment.
Sam eagerly collected his chips, happily receiving the compliments from his friends. I slowly walked over to the empty seat next to him, smiling at the loser in pity. He returned a shrug and I felt sorry for him that our relationship would probably only consist of this interaction and that in my mind, at least, he would always be labeled as the “guy that lost at Poker against Sam.” Oh well, there are worse things in life.
Sam looked up at me, pleased and pulling the chair back for me. “Such a gentleman,” I commented.
“I don’t have to be,” he said, meaningfully. I put my drink down and flipped my hair back behind one shoulder, shrugging off his suggestiveness.
“So do you play a lot of Poker?” I asked casually, running my fingers through my hair.  He seemed unable to take his eyes off of me, following my hands attentively.
“Depends on your definition of a lot.”
“Well,” I started slowly, “let me put it this way. Was that just luck, or was it skill?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you indirectly inquiring into what hand I had?” I bit my lip in amusement.
“No, I’d never be that sneaky. But now that you mention it, were you bluffing?” I stopped playing with my hair, and took a sip of the cocktail.
He fingered his chips; slowly letting them fall into a neat pile. “I don’t bluff Charlotte.”
His remark caught me off guard.  My face sobered up and I solemnly watched the dealer give out the cards. I wondered if he meant it. So I knew he liked the chase, but did he also like me? I had no real way of knowing but the fact that I had not given in was oddly comforting. And could I blame him? We’d only known each other for a few days, I could hardly ask him to commit.  I know I’d be afraid to.
I took another sip of the drink, unaware of the going on’s of the game. The alcohol was starting to hit me, and I became less and less concerned about Sam’s intentions and more and more interested in beating him at his own game. I guess Lily was right: I am competitive.
I leaned closer to him, asking casually: “Can I see your hand?” He quickly put his cards down, eyeing me suspiciously.
“How do I know you won’t give them away?”
I smiled sadly at him, my feigned disappointment in his child-like innocence plainly visible on my face. “Oh Sam, surely I don’t look like an amateur Texas Hold ‘em player?” My fingers lightly paced up and down the back of his hand. He licked his lips pensively. I watched them intensely, my eyes moving suggestively from his lips to his eyes. His eyes widened in bewilderment and I looked back at his hand. “So that’s a no I suppose.” I said, taking another sip of my drink.
He touched my hand, asking me to look at him. “Somehow I don’t trust you yet.” I wrinkled my nose and raised my eyebrows, giving him an infamous smoldering puppy-dog expression.
“That’s a shame,” I said softly. I withdrew my hand from his and cocked my head towards the table; reminding him he was still in the game. As the game took its course, a shameless thought occurred to me; something that would surely push his restraint to the limit. I smiled to myself and casually let my left hand, the one closest to him, fall on my lap. With the other, I took a drink.
I struck up a conversation with the girl sitting in front of me; I recognized her from my Drama class. As we discussed our teacher, laughing at each other’s imitations of her, my left hand slipped casually from my lap to his knee. I felt Sam’s legs stiffen, but I pretended to take no notice of it.
“You know, I remember her telling me that if she was my age, she could not resist dating those boys in 11th Grade. Slightly inappropriate don’t you think?” Anna, my Drama classmate, said comically.
I laughed and answered, “Yeah, that must have been awkward. How do you even respond to that?” Although my interest in the conversation was genuine, I was also keenly aware of Sam’s increased agitation as my hand crept slowly from his knee up his thigh. He tried to shake my hand off, but I wasn’t budging.
Unable to concentrate on the game, Sam folded. He put his hand on mine and dragged it off his thigh. “Stop Charlotte, seriously!” He whispered in my ear.
I looked up sideways at him, my face a portrayal of innocence. “I’m sorry, am I beating you at your own game?” I could see his expression change from nervous persistence to comical awe. “Thought you were the only one with tricks up your sleeves?” I paused for effect. “I guess we can call it even now.”

I watched Sam play for another few rounds, and we talked normally for once. The tension between us seemed to have died down for a bit, and it was oddly comforting. He told me about his family: he has a younger sister, tons of cousins and he says they’re all awfully close. I found myself hanging onto every word he said, my stomach flipping every time he smiled. Sometimes things seemed to move in slow motion or all sound would be blocked out, except for his voice. If I was a cartoon, I’d probably have pink hearts floating above my head and my eyes going gaga. I hate pink. But this, no this was okay.

He finally gave his chips away to a friend and took my hand, saying: “Come with me.” I eyed him suspiciously but stood up, letting him drag me to the other corner of the room, where a group of kids were sitting around playing a card game. I recognized a bunch of them as being Sam’s classmates.
Now, I must clarify the card game. No, this was not Poker, Black Jack or my grandmother’s Bridge game. This was Suck and Blow. This particular game only required one card and the point was to sit in a circle and pass on the card without using your hands. This thus meant you had to hold up the card by sucking in air and leaning over to the person on your left, until they sucked on the card, and you blew so that they now had the card. If you dropped the card, you’d have to kiss.
“Hey Paco, may we join?” Sam asked.
Paco said: “Sure thing!” and pointed to two empty seats on his left. I sat next to Sam naturally.
A new game had started, and a girl with auburn hair picked up a card. She turned to her left and he received the card with ease. He then turned to his left, his cheeks pinched in due to lack of air. He clumsily passed it to Jane from Chemistry class, and he almost dropped it, although she was quick enough to save the card. He seemed disappointed. I laughed, amused at his failed attempt to kiss her.
She moved on to Paco, who was sitting next to me, and allowed him to lean in towards her. The two failed to keep the card up and we all watched it fall on her lap. There were loud cheers and “oohs” and “aahs” as their audience awaited a kiss. Jane looked shyly down and Paco, who was clearly not bothered at all by this, grabbed her chin and lifted it up. His eyes asked for reassurance and as she nodded, he planted a kiss on her mouth.
Then it was Paco’s turn to pass it to me. Sam had his hands around my waist, and I was barely aware of anything else. Paco placed the card at his lips and leaned forward, expecting me to do the same. Sam’s fingers were brushing lightly against my shirt and my heart was pounding out of my chest. I leaned forward a bit, realizing too late that I had to suck in as soon as I touched the card. Paco blew and it fell. My eyes followed the card, and as if in a movie, I imagined it making a loud thud as it touched the ground.
I quickly realized the implications of my actions. Loud sirens went off in my head, droning out the music in the room. I would have to kiss Paco, something I was sure I did not want to do. I’d only kissed three boys in my life, and they’d all meant something. This kiss with Paco, in front of people I barely knew and Sam, was definitely not the number 4 I had in mind. But then again, I was never one to lose at a game…
Paco, shrugging nonchalantly, faced me. “Ready chica?” I looked at the rest of the people, all eyeing me eagerly. I nodded my head unconvincingly, closing my eyes so that I wouldn’t have a mental picture of this to refer back to later. Don’t get me wrong, Paco was a very good-looking guy, but he was not at all whom I wanted to be kissing tonight.
I awaited his lips on mine, but instead my body was jerked around and as I opened my eyes in bewilderment, Sam’s warm lips grazed mine. His hands cupped my face and his eyes were shut tightly. I closed mine too, gently kissing him back. I was barely aware of the odd dozen people watching us, and shifted my body, leaning into his. His hands moved masterfully over my face and neck, making me dizzy. Our lips moved slowly against each other, as all other bodily functions had stopped. I was capable of little else but to bathe in happiness.
And then Paco broke us apart and I was suddenly very aware of everyone around us. I faintly heard Paco say jokingly, “Hey, I was supposed to kiss her!”
Sam, putting his arm around me, responded with: “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t let you have her.” He squeezed my hand reassuringly.
Paco answered: “Rules are rules, Sam. It’s just one kiss.”
I looked back at Sam, who seemed to hesitate, and then said: “I suppose. Here, you can have her for just one kiss.” My cheeks flushed red as the embarrassment of being treated like an object finally reached me.
I angrily struggled out of his embrace and said, “I’m not yours or his to have, Sam!” I put my drink down and stood up. His face went blank in confusion. “Whatever,” I said, “You’re just like the rest of them.”
I wasn’t sure what he did after, but I walked away, a tear rolling down my cheek.

To be continued... (check out Exchange Student 2)