Chapter 8 I throw my arm around Sam’s shoulder and in the process practically clobber him with the coffee cups I’m holding. “Guess what!” He ducks, and some of the coffee spills through the little spout in the lid onto the pavement next to his car. “You’re not coordinated enough to hug someone while holding hot beverages?” “Ha-ha. No. My mom’s feeling better. It was just a slump. She took more pictures of Megan yesterday. You should have seen her—she looked so different.” I sigh a happy, contented sigh, and grin until it feels like my face is going to fall off. Sam’s face matches mine. “Hey, that’s awesome.” “Right? Oh, here, I brought you a latte.” “Thanks.” I hand him one of the cups and he starts to take a sip but then pauses. “Is this the skinny kind? Because you know I—” “Yes, Sam. I know you’re a stud now.” I pinch at the nonexistent fat on his waist, and he sucks in his breath and twists away from my fingers with a sheepish expression.
