Sam came literally out of nowhere. It was a month or so after my craptastic ex dumped me because I was too childish. That shithead was never able to understand the difference between childish and childlike, and I knew it was actually for the best that we broke up – but damn, that didn’t stop it from hurting.
I’d taken to wandering the streets late at night, unable to remain still as my mind whirred and buzzed. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Super dangerous, but I just couldn’t hold still. I needed the air and the wind and the dark and the quiet. The sweetest silence was between 1:30 and 4:30 AM. It was the only time my mind could settle, and I could start piecing myself back together.
Sam showed up at 2:00 AM one morning – just sort of popped into existence right in front of my eyes. At least that was what it seemed like to my sleep deprived mind. So I punched him. Right in the face.
I mean, come on, he was a weird dude who was far too close to me in the dark of night. It was instinctive. I punched him.
When he lunged at me, I thought for sure he was a serial killer, and I was an idiot. But he went right past me, and tackled this dirty weirdo who’d been following me. I didn’t even know he was there, he was so quiet. That guy had a long thread of wire and a collection of knives.
Sam…well, Sam very probably saved my life. I owed him at least a cup of coffee after we were done with the cops.
And he was…not what I expected. This guy was over six feet tall. He had broad shoulders and a “I definitely workout daily” physique, but…but he was childlike. Like me. He was weirdly naive and somehow innocent. Kinda clueless.
My God, it was adorable.
When I asked him what coffee he wanted, he looked like I’d asked him the square root of infinity. He said to get whatever I liked, so we both had London Fogs. He drank it like it was the first time he’d ever had tea, and enjoyed it like it was a completely new experience. It made me feel so settled. Like I was among my people.
So I invited him to a movie that weekend. He said “yes,” and I slept soundly for the first time since I was dumped.
The movie was some stupid comedy thing, but he laughed through it like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. That made it all the funnier for me. So when he walked me back to my car, I asked if wanted to have dinner with me in a few days. He looked curious, but said “yes” again.
That night, when I asked him where he wanted to go, he again deferred to me. I was broke as hell, so I suggested the Good Times just down the street from my place. Watching him eat a SpoonBender was more entertaining than the movie we’d watched together. His face was pure bliss. Like it was the first time he’d ever had ice cream.
He liked to let me talk, but he wasn’t as forthcoming himself. He was open to sharing his likes and dislikes on a superficial level, but he wouldn’t talk about his family or his job. All he would say was that his mother was dead, and his father was out of the picture. It seemed rude to pry, so I didn’t.
When he walked me home, I reached over and took his hand in mine, feeling so comfortable with him. He looked truly shocked, like no one in his entire life had ever held his hand before. He stared at our joined hands for a full five minutes before he raised his gaze to mine and smiled like I’d given him the keys to heaven. I couldn’t help myself – I kissed him. Leaned right in and kissed him.
And there were sparks.
Like, literal sparks that set the dried October trees on fire above our heads.
Some strange wind put out the flames, but that was the first bit of actual weird. I looked to him for an explanation, but he just looked worried. Scared even. He hurried me to my apartment, and pulled the door shut before I could ask any questions.
But he was back the next night, knocking on my door. He fidgeted in his spot like there were spiders in his boxers, and his eyes were so penitent. “I…I wanted to apologize.”
“For what?” I asked, happier than I should have been to see him again.
“I’m not…normal.” He dropped his gaze, his fingers tying knots around themselves.
“Who is?” I parried, smiling at him, knowing what it felt like to feel like the odd duckling. “What even is normal?”
“No, Cherry, that’s not what I mean,” he said, grinning crookedly at me. “I mean, I’m really not normal. At all.”
I shrugged. “I’m not either.”
“No, you don’t understand,” he said, running his hands through his shaggy dark hair.
“Sam,” I said, pulling his hands into mine. “I understand that I like you. I understand that you make me feel safe. I understand that not being normal can actually be a really good thing.”
“Cherry,” he whispered, his face showing the struggle of finding the right words.
But it was that moment that floor literally opened up, and four pitch black humanoid things jumped out of a fiery freaking pit. They launched onto Sam, dragging him down under them as he shoved me back into my apartment. There were shouts, and shrieks, and flashes of light and sound, with Sam at the center of it.
I ran back into the apartment, focusing only on the fact that Sam was in trouble, and I liked him. I grabbed the heavy skillet from my stovetop, and ran back out into the fray. Again, I know, stupid. But I did it. I swung that skillet like a freaking baseball bat right on the head of that black thing.
It didn’t seem to do anything but piss it off, but it gave Sam enough time to…smite it. I don’t know what other word to use. There was an incredible light from Sam’s hand, and the black thing burst into ash and dust.
And then we were left in the crappy hallway of my sketchy apartment with scorch marks on the floor and walls. We were both breathing hard, me hugging the heavy metal fry pan to my chest. When doors started opening down the hall, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him into my apartment.
“What the hell was that?” I asked, my heart running its first ever marathon in my chest.
“I tried to warn you,” he said through deep breaths, wiping sweat off his forehead with his normal, not-glowing hand. “I’m not normal.”
“Not normal is, like, being obsessed over boy bands when you’re thirty-seven. Or…or loving pickle juice. That’s not normal,” I said, staring at him, still feeling safe with him despite his rocket powered light-up extremities. “What level of not normal are you?”
Sam’s brows fell heavy over his soulful brown eyes as he averted his gaze. “Um, I’m not sure how to answer that.”
“Sam,” I said, reaching for his face with a shaking hand. “What are you?”
He met my eyes, that beautiful naivete burning behind his gaze. “I don’t totally know.”
“What?” My breath caught in my throat, but I still wasn’t scared. Not of him.
“Um, my mother died,” he said, and I nodded. He’d mentioned that much. “She died giving birth to me, because she was human.”
I raised my left eyebrow, staring at him and what he was implying.
“My father…was…a seraphim,” he continued, his mouth tilting down at the corners. “And I am only a month on this earth.”
Yup.
Sam is the offspring of human and angel, with powers that no one can fathom. Angels want him in heaven, to use as a weapon. And the demons want him dead. And me…? I just want him.
Dating him makes every experience new. Makes every moment shiny and exciting. He doesn’t think I’m too childish, he likes my enthusiasm. He doesn’t think I’m an idiot, he thinks I’m special. And whereas I now have to carry silver blades and brush up on my self defense, I’ve never felt so understood.
So it’s a little…complicated. So what? Dating is hard, and Sam is good.
I am dating a Nephilim.
