...eiling. Her lip quivered, and it happened so quickly that I thought I imagined it. Because, for a split second, there was something in Sam's eyes that I didn't recognize. I'd known the girl for years, and if there was one side of Sam I hadn't seen, it was the side I was seeing now.
Almost as fast as it had happened, that look was gone. Sam extinguished the fire in her eyes, letting them cloud over and pursing her lips into the same dull, "I-don't-give-a-shit" pout. She turned away from me, casually throwing her handbag down. She didn't stop to pick it up as it slid off the sofa. That was typical Sam.
I'd be lying if I said that I never had the urge to hit a girl before. This is Sam we're talking about, after all. But that moment was as close as I'd ever come to actually hitting a girl. Except this time, the feeling was so different. She wasn't antagonizing me this time, and she wasn't even trying to. Sam was being her usual self. And, by 'usual self,' I mean the one that always wore the same bored expression.
That night was the first time I'd gotten a glimpse of another Sam I'd never known. And, if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that I hated the fact that all I'd gotten was a glimpse. I hated Sam's casualness, and how she coul...