Chapter 7 - Sommer

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ERIN

My phone alarm rings and I almost get a heart attack when I confuse a strip of fake eyelashes on my pillowcase with a spider. Sam never made it to his bed and sleeps with his right arm hanging off mine. We kept talking about the situation between Imogen and Duncan and seem to have fallen asleep halfway through it.

"Sammy, it's time to wake up. The alarm went off."

My pushing efforts make him roll on his back; but he doesn't open his eyes.

"What time is it?" He mumbles.

"It is nine thirty, you only have thirty minutes to be at the club," I say while grabbing my stuff to take a shower.

"Oh fuck. No... I'm too tired," he puts a pillow over his face and I pull it off, otherwise he will never make it. "I should have gone to my own bed. I slept badly."

Sam finally sits at the edge of the bed and rubs his face. After a deep sigh, he shuffles his feet towards his bedroom to get ready. Feeling guilty about keeping him awake for longer, I take a quick shower and get dressed as fast as I can to accompany him to the club. Also to get a ride to work. Now that I don't know how things will go with Noah, it saves me a bus trip.

"We talked about everything last night, but I didn't tell you that I have a date with Marisol," his sweet smile as he mentions her name warms my heart.

"Oh, Sam. That's great news. I'm glad you asked her. Where are you taking her?"

"I've walked past this cute bistro while running errands. For some reason, that place always reminds me of her. It's casual and has a certain charm. You know I'm not made for all the proper posh places. I will fuck up using the wrong fork or something," he laughs.

I wish Sam could see himself in the way that we see him. He thinks he isn't a refined and elegant man when he's actually that and more. He's soft spoken and well mannered. I've seen how his kitchen team adores and respects him because he's fair, kind and make them feel valuable. The guys tease him at times because his record with women hasn't been the best. His nerves make him stop talking or the contrary, he blurts nonsense.

We have known each other since my parents bought a rundown bed and breakfast in Lonstino and he and his parents were our front door neighbors. Growing up, his parents were fascinating to me. His father is a musician and his mom a backup singer. Whenever they were not somewhere in the world recording for an artist, they would also go on tour. Sometimes even separate. Sam always felt neglected for having to stay behind. He never lacked attention as his grandmother or an aunt would stay with him, but at a certain moment, life got too complicated for them to come and take care of Sam for extended periods and he stayed at my house under the care of my parents. That's when he discovered his love for cooking. It wasn't unusual to find him helping my mom in the kitchen to prepare breakfast for our guests. He was so happy in those moments; asking many questions, tasting and enjoying the simple process of making a home cooked meal.

Sam did well in school and inherited the musical skills from his parents. Naturally, they expected him to follow their steps in the music business and were incredibly upset when he told them that he had applied to cooking school. An argument followed, something I never expected from them. Sam ran to our house and our parents told us to go to our bedrooms so they could talk to him in private. We eventually found out what it all was about. His father said he wouldn't pay for his tuition and that it was a ridiculous dream. Sam was heartbroken. My parents went back to his house and had a conversation with his parents and convinced them to give his dream a chance. If it didn't work out, he could always follow the music path.

"What are you thinking about? You've been quiet for a long time," he glances at me while he drives.

"That you almost didn't become a chef. Your parents wanted you to study something else."

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