Holding Your Hand
Holding Your Hand
Annaliese Kirby was checking her watch every two seconds, as if she expected it to blow up with her frustration. Sam Evans was supposed to meet her here in the choir room TWO HOURS AGO to rehearse their big duet for Sectionals next week.
Her long, red and curly hair whipped around her shoulders as she paced. This was the last straw. If this team had any hope of advancing, they needed Sam. But every practice, every meeting, he looked distracted and uninvolved, like he had more important things on his mind. It drove Annaliese, as captain of the team, absolutely up the wall.
But, he was their most talented tenor and he was perfect for the pair’s duet of “That Should Be Me” by Justin Bieber (after all, he had been the mastermind behind the since-disbanded “Justin Bieber Experience”). As much as it bothered her, Annaliese had to rely on him.
Just as Annaliese was about to call him for the thousandth time, he loped into the room.
The heels of her knee-high, black heel boots clicking with her advance, Annaliese unleashed on him, “Where the HELL have you been?”
“AnnaliiiiiIIIEEEEEEEESSeeeeeeeeaaajkkdjskfhk,” Sam dissolved into nonsensical, boyish laughs. Still a few feet away, Annaliese could already smell something bitter on him.
“Are you DRUNK?”
“Chill, girl,” he slurred. “one of the guys on the football team had a case of Nattie Lights. So we hit that up after practice.”
“Oh God, Sam!” Annaliese snapped. “If you can’t show up to rehearsal on time because you’re getting shitfaced, you can at least pick a beer that doesn’t taste- or smell, for that matter- like piss!”
“Whoa! Are you mad at me?” Sam blinked in a way that told Annaliese his entire world was spinning. Just to spite him a little, she shoved his arm and watched him take a few steps to regain his balance.
“Of course I’m mad at you!” She exclaimed. “Sam, Sectionals is less than a week away. You and I have the last song of our performance and we’ve barely practiced. If we don’t win Sectionals, there won’t even BE a Glee Club for you to let down!”
“I’m not letting anyone down, am I?” He moaned.
Annaliese looked at him dumbfounded as he fell into one of the static-y, plastic chairs, snuggling into his letterman’s coat. “Well, let’s evaluate,” she ranted sarcastically, pacing back and forth in front of him with her hands on her hips. “You NEVER contribute during meetings, anytime I ask you to rehearse, you’re “too busy,” and the one time I actually manage to get you to agree to come, you show up LIKE THIS.” She glared at his tired, drooping body for a moment- his big, pouty lips slightly open. She had never felt more disappointed in another person. “It shows you don’t care about this team... And it shows you don’t care about me...” she finished with more than an edge of hurt on her voice. Sam softened at the sound. He pulled his head back up.
“Of course I care about you, Annaliese. Why would you even have to ask?”
“Because you treat me like THIS!” She said, gesturing up and down at the inebriated mess in front of her. “Look, Sam... do you even want to be here with me?”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, of course I dooooo! I just messed uppppp,” Sam wailed into his hands. “I didn’t want to get DRUNK today I wanted to be able to relaxxxx around you!”
“What?”
“You’re so pretty,” he whined, looking up at Annaliese with puppy dog eyes, “but you’re also really tough and that makes me go WHOA DUDE and I get nervous as FUCK because it’s mad hot but also mad intense. I just want to impress you, Annaliese...”
“Sam, I’m not exactly hard to read,” she shook her head. “If you want to impress me, then show me you actually care about being a leader on this team.”
“You mean, you find all that responsible shit hot?”
“Mad hot,” Annaliese quoted Sam, with a little wink. “I know that under all this tough jock guy shit you’re a great guy. You don’t have to act like anyone different.”
“Do you prooooomise?” Sam sang, holding out a pinky to be shook. Annaliese smiled, despite herself, and took it in hers. His hand was soft and warm.
“Yeah.” She whispered, letting there hands linger for a moment longer. “Now how does this sound... I help you get home without your parents finding out your smashed and you meet me here bright and early tomorrow morning so we can rehearse before first period, say, 6:30?”
“6:30?!”
“You bet your ass, Tipsy McPoutylips.”
“Fineeeeee,” Sam sighed with a lazy grin, allowing her to help him get back up so they could walk out to Annaliese’s car. “And Annaliese?”
“Yeah?” She said.
“I like holding your hand.”
Her long, red and curly hair whipped around her shoulders as she paced. This was the last straw. If this team had any hope of advancing, they needed Sam. But every practice, every meeting, he looked distracted and uninvolved, like he had more important things on his mind. It drove Annaliese, as captain of the team, absolutely up the wall.
But, he was their most talented tenor and he was perfect for the pair’s duet of “That Should Be Me” by Justin Bieber (after all, he had been the mastermind behind the since-disbanded “Justin Bieber Experience”). As much as it bothered her, Annaliese had to rely on him.
Just as Annaliese was about to call him for the thousandth time, he loped into the room.
The heels of her knee-high, black heel boots clicking with her advance, Annaliese unleashed on him, “Where the HELL have you been?”
“AnnaliiiiiIIIEEEEEEEESSeeeeeeeeaaajkkdjskfhk,” Sam dissolved into nonsensical, boyish laughs. Still a few feet away, Annaliese could already smell something bitter on him.
“Are you DRUNK?”
“Chill, girl,” he slurred. “one of the guys on the football team had a case of Nattie Lights. So we hit that up after practice.”
“Oh God, Sam!” Annaliese snapped. “If you can’t show up to rehearsal on time because you’re getting shitfaced, you can at least pick a beer that doesn’t taste- or smell, for that matter- like piss!”
“Whoa! Are you mad at me?” Sam blinked in a way that told Annaliese his entire world was spinning. Just to spite him a little, she shoved his arm and watched him take a few steps to regain his balance.
“Of course I’m mad at you!” She exclaimed. “Sam, Sectionals is less than a week away. You and I have the last song of our performance and we’ve barely practiced. If we don’t win Sectionals, there won’t even BE a Glee Club for you to let down!”
“I’m not letting anyone down, am I?” He moaned.
Annaliese looked at him dumbfounded as he fell into one of the static-y, plastic chairs, snuggling into his letterman’s coat. “Well, let’s evaluate,” she ranted sarcastically, pacing back and forth in front of him with her hands on her hips. “You NEVER contribute during meetings, anytime I ask you to rehearse, you’re “too busy,” and the one time I actually manage to get you to agree to come, you show up LIKE THIS.” She glared at his tired, drooping body for a moment- his big, pouty lips slightly open. She had never felt more disappointed in another person. “It shows you don’t care about this team... And it shows you don’t care about me...” she finished with more than an edge of hurt on her voice. Sam softened at the sound. He pulled his head back up.
“Of course I care about you, Annaliese. Why would you even have to ask?”
“Because you treat me like THIS!” She said, gesturing up and down at the inebriated mess in front of her. “Look, Sam... do you even want to be here with me?”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, of course I dooooo! I just messed uppppp,” Sam wailed into his hands. “I didn’t want to get DRUNK today I wanted to be able to relaxxxx around you!”
“What?”
“You’re so pretty,” he whined, looking up at Annaliese with puppy dog eyes, “but you’re also really tough and that makes me go WHOA DUDE and I get nervous as FUCK because it’s mad hot but also mad intense. I just want to impress you, Annaliese...”
“Sam, I’m not exactly hard to read,” she shook her head. “If you want to impress me, then show me you actually care about being a leader on this team.”
“You mean, you find all that responsible shit hot?”
“Mad hot,” Annaliese quoted Sam, with a little wink. “I know that under all this tough jock guy shit you’re a great guy. You don’t have to act like anyone different.”
“Do you prooooomise?” Sam sang, holding out a pinky to be shook. Annaliese smiled, despite herself, and took it in hers. His hand was soft and warm.
“Yeah.” She whispered, letting there hands linger for a moment longer. “Now how does this sound... I help you get home without your parents finding out your smashed and you meet me here bright and early tomorrow morning so we can rehearse before first period, say, 6:30?”
“6:30?!”
“You bet your ass, Tipsy McPoutylips.”
“Fineeeeee,” Sam sighed with a lazy grin, allowing her to help him get back up so they could walk out to Annaliese’s car. “And Annaliese?”
“Yeah?” She said.
“I like holding your hand.”