For Nevermore Season 1

matter what. She might even push Becca to seek vengeance on Noella – the person she would undoubtedly find responsible for Sam’s change of heart.
    Sam pulled into Becca’s driveway thinking that the only thing more difficult than having a relationship with a girl was ending it.
    What have I gotten myself into?
    Sam killed the engine and looked out the windshield at Becca’s Jetta, sitting just behind her mom’s Escalade in the semi-circular stone driveway. He had been hoping Becca would be home alone. But she wasn’t, and now he’d have to figure out a way to get Becca alone.
    Sam stepped from Ash’s car, then went to the door, racking his brain for any legitimate argument he could make to Becca that would make him look less like a jerk.
    It’s not you, it’s me.
    No, actually it IS you. When you’re with Vicky, you’re a horrible person.
    He rang the doorbell, and Becca’s mom Julia opened the door. She was a beautiful blonde who looked less like a mom than a slightly older sister. Sam suspected she had a lot of work done to keep herself looking so young, but she didn’t seem nearly as shallow as Becca at her worst. Then again, it wasn’t like Sam had ever seen Julia with the other ladies in the neighborhood. Maybe she was just as catty as her daughter.
    “Sam!” she said, giving him a giant hug, her strong perfume coating her like always. She was dressed up, with her purse under the crook of her arm. It looked like she was on her way out, which was a welcome sign.
    “Hi, Mom,” Sam said, feeling as awkward as ever when calling her “Mom.” It was something he’d been doing since about a month into his friendship with Becca, and though it felt weird, and even weirder once he was dating Becca, he never wanted to offend Julia by swallowing the greeting like he wanted to.
    “Becca’s upstairs doing homework, and I’m just about to run some errands, so you make yourself at home, okay honey, and maybe I’ll see you when I get back?”
    “OK, Mom,” Sam said as she stepped past him and out onto the porch. “See you later.”
    Sam closed the door, hoping that he wouldn’t see her later. He hoped to be in and out of the house in less than 10 minutes . . . hopefully five.
    Sam walked quietly toward the steps, then took them one at a time and crept down the hall toward Becca’s room, milking every moment in hopes that some pearls of wisdom would fall from the heavens and give him the perfect out. Her door was closed, and Sam could hear the latest Skrillex song blasting from the other side. He knocked on the door, then waited. No response. He knocked again and considered opening the door but stopped when he thought she might be changing clothes or something. They’d not really done much beyond making out, so he’d not yet seen her naked.
    Yet? You can pretty much cancel that from your calendar, buddy.
    Yet another negative to breaking up. Becca was perhaps one of the hottest girls in the school. Though he’d always been partial to brunettes like Noella, Becca was the perfect blend of blonde hair, tanned skin, and blue eyes, that most guys, Sam included, couldn’t resist.
    After knocking a third time, Sam opened Becca’s door, shocked to find her moving a brush across a canvas, though he couldn’t see what it was because the back of the canvas was pointing toward the door.
    “Sam?!” Becca said, surprised, and nearly dropping her brush. She held out a hand, “Don’t look!”
    “What?”
    “Don’t look at the painting,” she yelled over the music. She rose from her chair, then went to her computer and turned the volume down on the iTunes app. “What are you doing here? I thought you were home sick?”
    He tried to read her expression to see if she were mad, indicating she’d listened to his messages. If she were mad, he wasn’t seeing it.
    “Yeah,” Sam said, looking at his feet and trying to keep his tongue from any conversation trap which might erode his intentions. “I was, but I wanted to come by.”
    Becca looked up, eyes concerned, “Why? What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing,” he said, and couldn’t help but note the relief in her eyes. He wanted to ask what she thought might be wrong, but didn’t want to fall down the rabbit hole. He had to act now, and quickly.
    Sam said the infamous four words that rarely followed with anything good, “We need to talk.”
    “Wait,” she held up a finger. “First, I want to say something.” Becca met his eyes. “I’m sorry,”