"What the fuck is going on?" Millie screeched from where she stood in the doorway. We turned and looked at her, but neither of us responded.

What the fuck was going on? Because based off of that man's words, I was now on some sort of watchlist. So why was I not panicking? Shouldn't I have been freaking out a lot more than I was? Oh shit, I think I already was freaking out!

I looked over at Sam, who was staring intently at his black tennis shoes, clearly thinking about something. If only I knew what.

"Sawyer Jay Parson! You're going to explain to me what is going on this instant!" Millie demanded again. She sounded eerily similar to my mom.

I nudged Sam's side, hoping that maybe he would at least give me something to work with so that Millie would stop screaming my full name like I just killed someone. Absentmindedly, he snorted at her words and lifted his gaze up to mine, biting his now split lip and glancing back at Millie.

"How did you get here?" He asked suddenly.

I furrowed my eyebrows. I couldn't believe this guy! All of that shit goes down, and he just asked me how I got here? "What does that matter?"

"Just answer the fucking question!" He burst out, a hard expression set on his bruised and bruising skin. Clearly he had reached his limit.

"Millie drove us!" I yelled back out of annoyance. Who does he think he is? I fought fire with fire. Even more so when it was Sam that I was dealing with.

Sam turned to her and nodded. "How long were you watching?"

"Not long, I missed most of it." She spoke slowly. I could tell that she was even more confused than I was. Or then again, maybe not, because I was pretty lost at that point. Which was understandable, given the fact that this was technically not any of my business. All I wanted was to try to keep it from escalating. It seemed that I actually ended up doing the exact opposite.

He sighed. I ran a hand through my short black hair out of confusion. That was a common habit of mine whenever I was trying to sort through my thoughts. "Then you can drive yourself back to your house."

"Excuse me?" She asked him, looking wildly towards me. I shrugged, not knowing what that meant either, but I hoped that it wasn't going where I thought it was.

I looked at Sam and held up my hands. "What are you doing? Stop telling us what to do and explain what the hell is going on! You at least owe us that much."

Sam looked at me blankly. "I don't owe her that much."

I heard Millie scoff at him, before crossing her arms over her chest.

"I may owe you that much." He pointed at me. "But I don't owe her anything. And it would be better to not get her involved, anyway."

I pursed my lips. "But I can be involved?"

"If I had a choice, then no. But we're already past the point of return, don't you think? You're involved now, and I'm just going to have to suck it up. There are some things you need to know."

"Then why did you tell me to drive us home?" Millie asked.

"There is no us." Sam answered. "You're going to drive yourself home. Sawyer is coming with me."

"Oh, the hell he is!" Millie yelled, clearly baffled by the mere suggestion. "You can't just do that!"

"Are you always this annoying?" Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed my sleeve.

"Do I not get a say in any of this?" I demanded as he began dragging me towards his blatantly expensive car. He didn't respond, clearly not giving a shit about what I had to say. I frowned at the whole situation. I figured that he would fill me in on whatever the situation was, but I couldn't help being a little bit freaked out.

I didn't like serious topics. Having to be caught up in something serious freaked me the hell out. And now I was. This was all made worse by the fact that I didn't even know what exactly it was.

He just left me at the passenger side of his car, before he made his way around to the driver's side. I didn't want to do this, I really didn't. But he was going to explain it to me and I really wanted to understand. Why did that man say that he was going to be watching me? Yet, on the other hand, I hated Sam, so the idea of us spending alone time in his car made me want to die.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

I sighed to myself and glanced back at Millie who was still staring dumbfounded at me. Then I reluctantly I got into his car. Inside, it was clean and smelt of vanilla curtesy of a small air freshener attached to one of the air vents.

Sam didn't turn the key though, instead he had his eyes closed and was breathing slowly. I didn't know what to do, so I waited awkwardly for him to start explaining.

Instead of doing that, he began cursing under his breath. His knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. I felt like I was intruding upon something that I probably shouldn't be. He didn't look too good.

After this cycle continued for a few seconds, I decided that it wouldn't hurt to ask him. Well, maybe it did hurt my pride a little. Still, I attempted to swallow it for now. At least no one other than us would ever know about this conversation. "Are you okay?"

Almost instantly, Sam's eyes shot open and he laughed dryly. "Do I look okay to you?"

I rolled my eyes at his stupid answer to my stupid question. What did he want me to say? "I don't fucking know! You're acting weirdly normal in the most abnormal way possible, and you still haven't explained to me what the fuck is going on. Who was that? What did he want? And what did he mean when he said that he was going to be fucking watching me?"

Sam's jaw was extremely tense as his eyes burned holes of pure hatred into my head. "If you had just stayed in the fucking diner, then there wouldn't be a problem! I mean, what the hell! I could have taken another hit just fine!"

Ironically, he flinched halfway through the rebuttal due to the ever-growing bruise on the side of his jaw. It didn't help that he already had other bruises littering his sun-kissed skin.

I bit my tongue, holding in a remark. Now that I was really looking at him, he seriously didn't look too good. Okay I admit that that sounded dumb, since of course he wasn't looking too good - he was just socked in the jaw. Along with his already black eye. However, it wasn't just the black and blue of a punch; he looked tired. A light grey was dusting the inner corners of his eyes, fanning out to create sunken shadows. Even though I said his skin was sun-kissed, it was still more pale than usual.

I couldn't believe what I was doing, but he didn't deserve to be in such a state. Even if he was a total douchebag that I was sworn to hate.

So, I grabbed his jaw and forced his head to look my way.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sam protested menacingly.

I rolled my eyes at him and brought my gaze forward to peer closer. I didn't know how I went so long without fully processing it, but his lip wasn't the only thing bleeding, there was a scrape along his jaw. How hard had he been hit?

"Do you have some napkins and water in here?" I asked after studying it.

Sam shook my hand off of him and scowled. The way that he reacted to my skin against his, it was like oil in water. I knew that he hated me, but something about that was more animated than I had expected. "I don't need you to take care of me."

"Last I checked, you still haven't told me what in God's name is going on, so I might as well." I retorted with a shrug.

He narrowed his eyes. "You're not coming near me, so just shut up and I'll try to explain."

Though I really wanted to comment, I decided against it and waited for him to begin. This seemed hard for him to talk about, or to at least talk about with me of all people. When was the last time Sam and I didn't act like total douches to each other? Honestly, I couldn't remember. We had always had it out for each other, and yet, I went outside to help him. I pushed him out of the way, and he tried to protect me from that man. Maybe our rivalry was a little ridiculous.

But only a little.

"My, um, dad has been having a lot of problems with his business," was how he began.

My eyes widened at how serious the situation really was. I didn't entirely know yet, but this couldn't be good. Not if it somehow involved his parents, or their business.

"Rick was the co-owner with him, and well, he kind of got into some deep shit when they stopped pulling in a lot of money. Rick took it upon himself to start selling hard drugs, but he got busted for it. My dad was furious, and he didn't bail Rick out when it came time. He has a family that he's a lot more concerned about. Eventually, he pulled the business out of rocky waters on his own. Because the world is so pleasant, Rick ended up getting bailed out by his wife anyway."

He paused and took in a deep breath. Sam's gaze was focused on the windshield and his hands were planted firmly on the wheel. Saying that he clearly didn't want to tell me about it, would be an understatement. In fact, he looked almost more uncomfortable than I felt. And I felt pretty fucking uncomfortable right then. He kept his explanation brief.

"Um, so when Rick got out, he immediately came to my dad." Sam continued. "Dad didn't let him back into the company for obvious reasons, and instead bought out Rick's half from under him. Which makes sense, I guess. Rick was pissed though, and started to harass the hell out of my family. One day, he just completely snapped and decided to break in.

"What he didn't know, was that there was someone home. Me. He was absolutely livid, breaking shit, threatening my life, but I said something that got his attention. Now, I'm kinda really, really involved with a lot of bad people, such as Drake, who you met tonight. He's a great guy, don't you think?" He let out a rather painful and humorless chuckle at his own actions, seeming like he wanted to die.

"What did you say, Sam?" I cringed before even hearing the answer.

He frowned for a moment and let out a deep breath. "I made an agreement with him."

"Why are you being so vague?" My voice wavered. Something about the way he gripped the steering wheel a little bit harder, and how the corner of his eyes grew sharper, gave me the absolute creeps. Did I even want to know the answer?

Through gritted teeth, he told me. "I agreed to help him sell drugs until he was back on his feet."

My eyes bulged out of my skull. He did what now? I wasn't scared of him for selling drugs or anything like that, but I was somehow even more confused. "Why the hell would you go and do that?"

He snorted. "To get Rick to stop fucking with my parents, were you even listening?"

"Yes." I muttered. "But just because you want a golden fiddle, doesn't mean you sell your soul to the devil!"

"You're so annoying." Sam started the car suddenly, causing me to startle. We were reaching our limit for how long we could have a somewhat civilized conversation. His presence was increasingly pissing me off, and I could tell that mine was doing the same to him. "This isn't a fucking Charlie Daniels' song. I had to do something, Sawyer."

"Yeah, like go to the goddamn police!" I ran a hand over my face, trying to process all of this information.

"Quit acting like you get it!" Sam yelled. "Your perfect little family would never understand this shit!"

That was the moment in which I lost it.

"Excuse you! You have no fucking clue about my family. You will never know their problems, so quit pretending like you're the only person with problems. Just because you suck at dealing with yours, doesn't mean that everyone else's just don't exist." I was seething by the end of it. Who gave him the fucking right? If he wasn't in such deep shit as it was, I would have added to his collection of bruises. To compare his problems to someone else's was bullshit.

"Where do you live?" Was all he hissed through gritted teeth.

I told him the directions without taking my eyes away from the window. Then I remembered why we never had a civilized conversation before this. He was downright so far up his own ass that it felt like I was talking to a fucking turd.

As soon as my house was beginning to peak over the horizon, I was already unbuckling my seatbelt. Maybe, if I just focused on how quick I wanted to get out, Sam wouldn't notice how inexpensive my house looked compared to his car. My family wasn't super poor or anything, but they certainly weren't anywhere near as rich as Sam's was. Everyone in this town knew that the Warner family was one of the only ridiculously rich families in this town.

To be insecure over the difference in my family's income compared to his, was definitely stupid. After all, since when did Sam ever make me feel insecure? Maybe I was just mad because that was the only thing that he would always have more of than me. I was still grateful to have what I had, and at least it kept me from being a spoiled prick like him.

However, Sam wasn't going to let me walk out that easy. If you're wondering how I knew, it was the clicking of the lock that informed me. For a moment, my brain considered the option of Sam trying to kill me so that I wouldn't be able to tell anyone about what he did.

Then I remembered that it had been a long day, and I just really needed a nap.

I turned to him with narrowed eyes. "Are you shitting me right now?"

He didn't respond with anything malicious, which shocked me. Actually, he appeared rather solemn. I watched as he bit his lip that already had dried blood all over it, and then looked me directly in the eyes. "Sawyer, he wasn't messing around when he said that they were going to be watching you."

At the sudden change in atmosphere, I almost gasped. I didn't, of course, because that would have been weird. But the way he said that still scared the living shit out of me.

"Watching me?" I said in a very small voice.

Sam nodded slowly. His expression almost seemed to hold a sprinkle of worry in it. "I know that you hate me and all, and don't worry, because I reciprocate those feelings, but I think we might have to start spending more time together." He scrunched his face up at his own words. "I'm not so horrible that I would let them storm into your house and kill you in your sleep."

My jaw dropped to the floor. "Would they actually do that?"

He pursed his lips for a moment, successfully continuing to scare the ever-living shit out of me. "I hope not. But I don't know, they're really unpredictable."

I couldn't quite believe his words. What was I supposed to do? All of this simply because I helped Sam dodge a hit? What the hell had I gotten myself into?

He sighed. "I didn't ask you for help, so you can't blame me in your suicide note. Also, I'm going to need your number."

My eyes were unfocused as I queasily opened my phone to the contacts app, and handed it to him. I felt dizzy. This couldn't be happening.

Please tell me that I didn't just do this to myself.

I didn't even notice it when he held my phone out for me to take back. I absentmindedly grabbed it from him and waited for the lock to unclick. It soon did.

I exited the car and walked up to my front door, sparing one last glance at the car that exuded monetary value. Then I finally went inside.

In an hour, I received a text.

Sam is Better Than You🖕:

Let me know if you see anything suspicious.

I frowned at the name of his contact, quickly going out of my way to change it. He must have entered a contact for me on his phone as well.

I was neck deep in shit creek without a paddle.

•O•O•