One, my best friend was actually considering going to this party and two, if I didn't know any better, Layla might already be smitten with this boy. Clearing my throat, I shifted in our booth. "So are you going to go?" I held my breath for her response. Gabby's lips parted and her gaze bounced frantically between Layla and I. Layla straightened and narrowed her eyes a fraction. "I might." Tension trickled between us until Gabby diverted our attention. "So," she laughed a little awkwardly. "You going to go, Anna?" I smiled inwardly. Gabriela, always the peacemaker. Playing with my blond strands, I gave them a tight-lipped smile, one that probably appeared on the bitter side. "Not exactly my scene." I didn't add that about two years ago, parties, excessive drinking and boys had exactly been my scene. They knew. They both looked away, as if ashamed by their response - or my response, I didn't know. All I knew was that this was suppose to be a stress-free lunch with my girls. If we didn't change topic soon, things would go downhill. "If we go tonight" - Gabby started with renewed effort, just as I'd begun reaching for my can of Pepsi, coming up short when I realized it was empty -"are you sure you wouldn't want to come with us?" Seeing it as an excuse to leave this conversation, I picked up my can and gave them a nod. "I need a refill," I said. "I'll be right back." And I left the booth. As I weaved a path through the thick crowd - my shoulders jostling against the flurry of bodies in front of me - I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder at my two best friends. I could feel their piercing gazes burning holes in my back. The bar side of the pub enclosed a thinner mass of people. My guess was that little sixteen years olds didn't want to risk getting carded by the bartenders. The thought brought a smile to my face as I remembered my first time trying to illegally order a rum and coke at Danny's. I was barely able to stammer out my order. I edged closer to the mahogany bar counter top. A couple of senior girls that I recognized from my school sat on the stools, mingling over what seemed like Shirley Temples. On their left, a handful of older guys conversed in low voices as they nursed beer bottles. They were all tatted and pierced. There was no one serving behind the bar, so I deposited my empty can on the surface and propped an elbow, lightly drumming my fingers to an old DC song. A moment later, I found myself surveying my surroundings. Among a horde of what I'm sure were the local college freshmen, one of the caught my eye. Giving me a nod of acknowledgement, his lips quirked in a brief smile. I smiled back politely and glanced away, not wanting to encourage anything. It was then that, in midst of full chaos, I heard an antagonizing pitched squeak. Craning my neck, my eyes darted towards the general area of the billiard tables, where a small brunette had just scored the winning shot. Her face broke out into a massive beam and she continued shrieking, as if she'd never played before and winning was a foreign concept. No matter how unique her vocal chords were - seriously, I bet even God stopped performing miracles in heaven to cast her a glance - that's not what had me doing a double-take. It was the guy glued to her perched derriere. His brawny arms cradled her smaller frame against him as he showed her how to score the shot that had her wailing like a banshee. I'm pretty sure he was bent over her so he could get a good feel. When he entangled his limbs from hers and gave a congratulatory smile, followed by a squeeze to her waist, I wanted to knock myself for even looking in that direction. As the girl gushed on and on about how grateful she was for all his help, (By the way she kept skimming her hands up and down his chest, she was very grateful, I could tell) I saw him slyly bump his fist with a friend who was hovering close to their pool table. They exchanged a look of amusement. Until his gaze connected with mine. Mischief sparked in his emerald green eyes. His stance shifted and he squared his shoulders proudly, rising to his full six feet something height. Keeping his stare locked on me, I watched as he canted his head and raised his arm, strong muscles straining against the torso-moulding white tee he had on. Running his fingers through his mussed, dirty blond hair, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he assessed me, gaze perusing my length from head-to-toe. Then he sent me a playful wink - one that was laced with a tremendous amount of arrogance and cockiness. Once my initial shock had warned off, I simply arched a brow his way. In that second, the only thought swimming through my mind was, Ew, Samuel Adams just winked at me. Ignoring his presence, I turned back around, just in time to see the double doors of the kitchen swinging open. A worker emerged, slapping on a disheveled rag over his shoulder. I silently saluted him with my empty can of Pepsi, signalling for another one. I wouldn't get carded for a goddamned soda. As he went to fix my order, Gabby and Layla's eyes weren't the only ones I could feel on my back. Call it my sixth sense if you will, but I just knew that Samuel Adams was staring at me. I smirked to myself. A part of me wondered if his parents were history maniacs or just plain fans of the alcohol. Maybe his name was purely coincidental. To relieve my itch, I tried to throw another casual glance over my shoulder, feigning nonchalance. And, I regretted the action the second I realized he was, actually, still looking at me. The first time I'd met Samuel - though I'm not sure that could even count as a meeting, since I'd all but ran in the opposite direction - was at Layla's older sister's wedding this summer. He was part of the groom's party, and I would be lying if I said he didn't look completely devilish, much to my dismay. Dressed in a dark grey tux and with a pink shirt that was the exact shade of my dress, he'd eyed me with open interest from across the banquet hall. His black bow tie was left hanging loose around his neck - untied - and even from my distance I could see a trace of black ink creeping up the side of his neck, though most of it remained modestly covered under the collar. It was the fervent look in his eyes and the lazy reclined position he'd resumed against the wall as he observed the room that had all the ladies in my age bracket melting. He'd made a fine groomsmen. But he was trouble. Samuel Adams was friends with the kind of crowd I now avoided. Joshua Brown was one of his good friends, which, by association made Sam just as bad. They weren't known for having a good reputation. Panic had dawned upon me when I'd seen Samuel that night, advancing towards me in all his sexy, arrogant glory. I wasn't stupid and I knew he'd want to talk. So as usual, the fight-and-flight response kicked in and I went with the latter. I didn't need complications in my life. Ever since that night, I'd seen him a handful of times. He hadn't dared approach me and that was perfectly fine with me. Though winking at me today was a whole new ball in the park. I was lost in a daze, snapping out only when the bartender placed a chilled can of Pepsi before me. Water rivulets dripped down the sides. "There you go." "Oh, hold on,"- I dug through my jeans pocket -"I've got change somewhere in here." "Don't bother," he smiled, using his rag to clean the dirty surface of the counter. "It's already been paid for." I stiffened, my fist lodged in my jeans pocket."By who?" My tone was sharper than intended but my suspicions were growing with every second. He didn't answer me as he continued cleaning. Simply jutted his chin out in the direction of the billiard tables. Surprise flickered within me as I followed his direction, before it was squashed down by dread. Samuel sat on a stool, a cue stick between his fingers. Elbow propped on a raised knee, there was a serious looked etched on his face as he scrutinized the game before him. This time, he must have felt the weight of my stare. His head jerked up and our eyes fastened across the room. I popped open my can and took a sip, peering at him over the rim. It seemed like forever yet it only must have been a couple of seconds before I broke eye contact. One thing was for sure, I wasn't going to go to the party even if my friends did. Girls like me didn't mix well with boys like him. And something told me that he wasn't the giving-up kind.