The Real Sam

I stood and nodded. "I will go. But only if I can say this . . " I raised my eyebrow at her. She smiled a sad smile and nodded.

"I want to get to know you, Sam. I like you. I like who you are and want to really spend time with you. I don't care about whatever else has happened in your life. Whatever it is that has made this hard, I want to be there Sam. No sneaky motivations. Just Jon and Sam spending time together. That's all I want."

By the time my little monologue was over, she was openly crying. Not tears of joy as I had hoped. Just sad tears. She actually shook her head as the tears fell, her mouth unable to apparently form words. I didn't understand at all and I felt frustration. Why couldn't she just tell me what was going on. Why did she want to keep me at arm's length?

"Don't you want to spend time with me?" I felt some anger beginning to flare. My patience had suddenly worn thinner. And my self-proclaimed confidence in reading people started to erode.

She heard the anger in my question. She saw the frustration. She started to nod her head but then managed, "I am so sorry Jon . . . I can't . .what I want is not . .I just can't. . . I shouldn't have . . " The tears stopped her from talking. From doing anything really.

And at that she turned and quickly went to her music room and closed the door.

I ran fingers through my hair as if that physical act signifying exasperation would help me understand this girl. She wanted to be with me but she didn't. She liked me but she couldn't be around me. Something about her past was apparently keeping her from moving forward. Something that she couldn't forgive. Something that she couldn't let go. And my delusion that I was charming enough to convince anyone of anything, well that was not good enough to deal with this.

I should walk away from this broken girl and her broken life because she was making it very clear that she thought this - the us - shouldn't move any further.

But then I couldn't. I couldn't let it go. I couldn't let HER go.

I didn't know her that well, so the logic says that I shouldn't be all that attached. But I was. And I honestly couldn't explain it any more than she could tell me what was wrong.

I stared at the closed door. The one keeping an actual barrier between us. The one separating us physically. And I thought: barriers can be opened. If you wait long enough, you try hard enough, you could get them open.

So the real question was: was she worth the effort? And if I searched my feelings and thoughts on it all. If I dug down deep to how this girl impacted me on day one until now, even with such a short span of time elapsing, I had to honestly answer yes. She was.

So I would leave now. But I was not going to leave her.

I called through the door, "Sam, I am heading out. I am so sorry I pushed you, but I wanted to get to know you. And I still do. Let's talk tomorrow."

And I didn't await an answer, but rather just moved out her door.

+++++++++++

I broke a few long-heeded dating/ socializing-with-girls rules over the next several days.

Rule #1: Don't send more than one text when a girl doesn't respond. You look desperate. Yeah, I sent eight in three days. She didn't respond but I knew she was reading them so I kept sending them. For once looking cool didn't matter. Weird huh?

Rule #2: Give a girl a set of flowers once. More than once too often makes them think you would do it all the time. Um .. it is possible that Jon visited the flower shop down the road three mornings in a row? I left them outside of her door. They were apology flowers more than romantic gestures.

Rule #3: And of course do not leave several messages. I not only left messages, I left a message as soon as I got home that first night, and then the next morning, and the next evening, etc.

I honestly felt a little obsessive. This was not me. Girls pursued me. I usually just fell into it all and was pretty successful. So for this sweet upstairs neighbor to totally blow my world open like this was just. . weird. And for her to not be enamored with me was also just weird.

The end of day three finally saw a text back.

"Jon, I am sorry. I haven't been ignoring you but rather just trying to figure out how to deal with this. You have been so amazing. And wonderful. And really a joy to be around. But there are a few things about me that if you knew would make it hard for us to still be friends. You haven't done anything wrong. I am just messed up. Thank you so much for being so sweet to me. It has been a breath of fresh air. ~S"

And then another buzz.

"And thanks so much for the calls and texts. I liked hearing from you."

And then another buzz.

"And the flowers were so beautiful! Thanks for those too. You are so sweet."

And then another three minutes later, four more rapid-fire texts.

"But I am still really no good for you."

"No matter how sweet and amazing you are."

"Because of the messed up thing."

"Sorry to be confusing."

And I just smiled to myself. I could literally picture her right above me stressing over the texts. She probably wrote and rewrote and rewrote again the first little dissertation over a period of an hour or two. The others likely were impulsive but then she realized she was breaking away from the agreed upon narrative. She was just so friggin adorable.

Maybe its the arrogant player in me but I just found her attempted rejection of me to be unbelievably exciting, because it was ridiculously easy to see it for what it really was.

I then had to ask myself an important question: did I want to be with Sam because she was seemingly unattainable? Was it the challenge? Like converting a lesbian?

Wait, was she a lesbian?? Honestly that would be pretty cool. But she seemed to be pretty interested in me from the beginning. Of course I may be that awesome! Ha . . . So I am not THAT arrogant.

Ok, so she had something amazing about her. Something really intriguing that I couldn't put my finger on. And I still wasn't just picturing her naked on my lap . . . I was picturing her in my arms, and spending time with me. And I did even picture her kissing me. Or rather me kissing her, as I am 90% sure that would be how the first one would go. Yes, all the gushy stuff. So completely not me.

So I wrote back.

"Sam, you can't get rid of me that easily. :)"

"Did you prefer the daisies or the mixed wildflowers?"

The buzz came seconds later.

"I loved the daisies."

Then quickly followed by . . .

"Um . . but we shouldn't still keep going. Because of the messed up thing."

I smiled to myself and texted..

"Daisies it is!"

"Sam - Please understand that I don't usually do what I am doing with you. This is all new to me. Whatever is going on or has gone on, well we can deal with it. Together."

And she didn't write back.

Honestly, I knew I was stressing her out, but I knew that without a doubt whatever it was that was causing her to do this needed to be brought into the light eventually. At least with someone. And I aimed to be that someone.

+++++++++++

She managed to avoid me for two more days. I am pretty sure she developed a war room wall with my schedule and routes mapped out on it. She then could time things just right so that she could avoid the inevitable serendipitous meet-ups in the hall or in front of the building.

But at the end of the second day I happened to be coming home early and literally almost ran into her coming out of the front door.

She looked very panicky but she had nowhere to go.

"Hi Sam!"

"Hi Jon . . "

And without her being able to even react at all I immediately pulled her into a hug. Now we had hugged twice before . .both earlier on when she came to my apartment and before the night where everything started to unravel, but this hug felt different. There were layers of issues underneath it so when I pulled her tight and she stiffened initially, but then kinda melted into my embrace, well that just felt awesome. Like a major victory.

So I held her for a moment or two longer.

"It's great to see you Sam," I nearly spoke into her hair, her cheek pressed against my shoulder.

"You too Jon," she whispered.

I finally felt her start to unwrap herself so I let her free. But I kept one hand on her shoulder as if to keep the little fawn from bolting back into the bushes.

I could actually see the tears start to form. I brought my thumb gently up to catch a tear as it started coming down her cheek.

"Sam, I don't know what is scaring you about us, but I want to help . . . and be a part of your life. If you do not care or are not interested in me. . or whatever . . " For once in my life I actually felt a little nervous that someone might not be interested in me. "Well if that is true then just tell me honestly and I will try to leave you alone."

She looked at me. Hard. Her mouth began to move but she couldn't really form the words.

"Jon . . ." Sam tried to start again.

I just quietly waited.

" . . . I . . . don't want to hurt you . . . and also don't want to be hurt . . . again." She was forcing herself to look at me right in the eyes. I knew this was a major struggle for her so my heart really went out for her as she really tried to convey the message to me.

"Ok, I understand . . . " i began, but she interrupted.

"No you don't. It's very . .complicated. And eventually you will know the . .truth. . and then you will leave."

"How do you know?"

"Because everyone leaves when they know." Her eyes teared up. I grabbed both arms.

"Maybe I am not everybody." I smiled at her.

She studied me for a moment. "Maybe . . ."

"Look Sam, I asked you a question. Do you really want me to leave you alone?"

She just shook her head no.

I smiled a little. "Ok then." I squeezed her arms to emphasize the seriousness of my next statement. "I harbor no desire to be hurt or see you hurt. Let's work through this together and figure it out. We can take our time."

"That almost scares me even more." She muttered almost to herself.

"Well we could go upstairs now and just hop in bed naked if that would help."

She actually looked like she was considering it, which I admit I was not even slightly prepared for. My eyebrows went up at the unexpected turn of events. She didn't seem at all affected . . .

"No, we should probably take our time . . . " She mused out loud.

"Good. So here is an important question for you to ponder at your leisure, are we eating at your place tonight or mine?"

+++++++++++

And take it slow we did. I had never worked so hard at holding myself back. She looked amazing in everything she wore and it proved to be near torture trying to keep my hands to myself.

We had just finished dinner at my place and were enjoying a little pecan pie (one of my specialties from my grandmother) when a little bit fell onto the front of her dress. I immediately grabbed a napkin and reached across to get the bit of pie before it did more damage, which meant I inadvertently brushed my fingers across her left breast. She took in a breath.

"Sorry Sam . . "

She smiled. "If you wanted to feel me up, you just had to ask . . "

I raised my eyebrows. She proved a little unpredictable. "Hey, Sam . . I was just wondering. . can I feel you up?"

She giggled. "Only if you ask to kiss me first . . . "

"Hey Sam . . weird thought .. I was wondering if I could kiss you."

She smiled. And I took that as a yes.

Now at the risk of sounding like the Princess Bride, that kiss was easily a top three of all time sort of kiss. Tender. Feeling. Passionate but not aggressive. We tasted each other very slowly . . .And it was perfect. And admittedly I grew hard instantaneously. It happens.

My fingers rested on her waist, my lips brushed lightly against hers, our tongues just barely touching. I could have done it for hours. And it felt like it was. And no, I didn't actually feel her up, but I got close just as I enjoyed her body. Her lips distracted me from all else really.

And then she stopped and pulled back. Her lips were parted as she caught her breath.

"Jon, this still scares me." And I could see that pretty evidently in her eyes.

"I know, Sam. I am still here." She sadly nodded.

"Did you want to stop kissing?"

She bit her lip as a small smile formed . . And she shook her head.

"Good."

And we resumed. My hands remained at her neck, under the back of her hair rest on her neck. Our bodies close. I actually wanted to rip her clothes off and try to get as close to her as I could. But I knew she needed things slow, so our slow make out session remained at that line.

Then I felt her fingers on my thigh. And higher. And over. And before I knew it her fingers gripped the shape of my cock, her lips never slowing down.

She moved her kisses to my neck as she gently squeezed the center of my shaft.

"I want to do something for you, Jon." She whispered against my neck between kisses.

I just nodded dumbly.

She apparently could tell from her angle that I was 100% on board with whatever she wanted to do as she began unbuckling my belt. I just sat back and let her do her magic.

Unbutton. Unzip. Reached in and pulled out my very hard member, through the boxers front flap. I squirmed a bit.

And then she began to rub the tip with her finger, which of course saw a little bit of my liquid excitement that had formed on the tip spread around.

Her other hand joined her first, moving up and down my length. Under this scenario I knew I would not last long. I could already feel the coming wave and could barely hold myself together.

I watched her small fingers slide up and down my skin, her other hand continuing to stimulate the tip of my cock. Her eyes watched my face carefully, a small smile remained on her lips. She took great pleasure in mine . . . I loved that.

As I approached an orgasm I began to breathe heavier, my fingers gripping the couch itself. She seemed to be very aware of the changes, the tightening as my body prepared for the waves of pleasure.

And then it hit. I moaned out loud a long groan as I felt explosion hit. I watched the creamy whiteness pool on her hand, her eyes watching the same. I immediately leaned over, grabbed the back of her head and brought her in for a kiss. And even in the midst of the deep kiss her hand never left me.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" She was smiling at me, already knowing the answer to the question but wanting to hear it nonetheless.

"Good lord yes," I managed. My breathing finally began to slow. She stood up and quickly grabbed some tissues from the counter and returned to my side to clean both of us a little.

Once finished, she tucked my softening member back into my boxers and then glanced back at me, a serious expression crossing her face.

"Jon . . . I wanted to do that for you before. . . we talked about stuff. . . in case . . "

Her eyes stayed on me but she stuttered nervously, seeming to want to just run away. But she stayed. And she did that for us.

I nodded and looked at her waiting for her to continue. I knew this had to be in her own time and I was feeling very patient. The fact that she just gave me a most wonderful orgasm might actually be a large contributor to my new found extreme patience.

"Ok. . . so . . . I have always been . . .um different. Since I was little. Never like other kids." Her eyes watched mine as she started.

"I found it was hard to make friends. And . . " She briefly glanced at her fingers in her lap. ". . . date . . ."

She continued, "so I discovered that when I was a teenager I needed to be who I was meant to be. You know?" I nodded supporting her. I didn't know where this was going but so far I understood.

She paused and looked at me, reflecting. "I have given this speech a few times. It never is easy. And it always has ended badly . . ." She was speaking quietly, sadly even.

"So I had to be me. And I did." She stopped for a moment, considering.

"Please give me your hand." I was so immersed in her talking that it took me a moment to register that it actually was a request of me. I put my hand in hers.

She took a deep breath and then shocked me by guiding my hand between her thighs. I just let her do it as I could not think of any scenario where this made sense, but I knew she needed to do whatever this was.

And as she pushed my fingers between her bare thighs under her dress, I felt the creamy warmth of her soft skin on either side of my fingers. She pushed further.

And finally my fingertips connected with the front of her panties. She pushed a little further so that my hand cupped the front . . and then it all made sense.

Everything connected. Every tear shed in the last few weeks now had a reason. And my hand was on it.

Sam was not like other girls because Sam was born a boy. And I didn't know the word for it but she was moving from being a boy to being a girl.

I looked up at her eyes. Fear. Anxiety. It all was painted on her face. And I couldn't figure out what I felt . . .

It wasn't disgust, which probably would have been me doing this without knowing Sam. But this WAS Sam. Sam who needed me. And apparently I needed her. Does this change anything? Surely it does.

I moved my hand slowly away. My eyes stayed locked on hers a bit. And she looked panicky.

"Sam . . ." I began, but didn't know what I was going to say because I didn't know what I felt. Sudden. New. Shocking. Different.

Her hand had allowed me to pull away from underneath her dress but she still kept hers on mine, likely very hopeful.

I am not sure what I felt, but I did know a few things to be true: that I cared about her, that I was very fond of her, that I felt this need to keep her safe and that I at the very least had no interest in not seeing her again. I figured I could start with those.

So I began again, "Sam . . . I am not leaving."

She looked at me curiously, maybe hopefully. But I obviously did not give her the full answer that would have alleviated her stress and current suffering.

"I need to . .um .. process this. But I am not going anywhere. Understand?"

She nodded quietly. It was as if she was afraid anything she said might tip the scales a different direction.

"But . . also . .I now completely understand . . ." I squeezed her hand " . . . and I am so sorry that I pushed you. " She nodded and used her free hand to wipe her eyes. So I brought her into a hug.

And analysis mode kicked in: I am hugging a girl who was born a boy. Does that change how I feel about this hug? Hmmm, not yet. And as I place my hands on her back like so, does the knowledge of the difference of Sam change that either? Seemingly not. And when I focus on her fingers on my back, does the known difference in her change how I feel about her light touch? I don't think so.

I could get past some of this, seemingly. What about the rest?

I leaned back from the hug and looked at Sam. Her eyes still looked a little red. I placed my fingers on her cheek and felt the soft warm skin beneath my fingertip. Still no major change for me. The new paradigm was working thus far.

"Sam, if you allow me I would like to try kissing you."

'Try?" She almost looked hurt.

"I am so sorry sweetheart. Please understand that I am trying to figure this out. Please let me kiss you."

She nodded.

And so I leaned forward, my lips brushing against hers. I felt the surge of energy just like the first time, my focus on her soft lips, the tip of her tongue, her breath mingling with mine, her scent. My fingers snaked behind her neck, to her the back of her head, holding her in place.

We slowly and almost reluctantly separated, both of us breathing hard. Holy crap, no problems there.

I slowly stood up from the couch, her eyes never leaving me. I held out my hand for her to stand and she took it, pulling her gently to her feet.