haydensmithsâ:
Raising his head to nod his understanding, a small smile grew on Haydenâs lips as he shrugs and lets a short breath out. âI mean I learned early on how words hurt, how useful they could be in raising someone up and how easily they can destroy people. Also my Ma made a point to make sure I was respectful no matter what happened.â He finds himself warm with the thought of all the great things his mother had helped him learn; helped him grow into the young man he was now and had no chip on his shoulder for past offenses from stupid kids who didnât know better. It wasnât any more their fault than it was his.
âThatâs been the story of my life honestly. Open spaces and no limits. It why we got a property on the city limits; Ma couldnât bare not being close to nature.â He grinned as Sam had no idea the elaborate designs of huts and wonderment Hayden had craft over the past twenty years in the forest behind his house; the small kingdom he returns to often to escape the world and be one with nature. That was a secret for another day of course.Â
âSurprisingly I donât actually workout all that often; in terms of like using machines and regimented periods of time.â He chuckles as he flexes the massive muscled frame he toted along, clear that his muscle came from the hard work he did; along with all the untold hours of other handiwork he did in his life. âYou can dance to it; though itâs so formal dancing and itâs not really a thing these days.â The classics of the waltz and foxtrot and things of that nature, of which Hayden did know how to do; yet wouldnât outright admit it. That was a close guarded secret for him to know and people to be blown away from.
âYeah sure, we can.â Hayden smiled as he begun to stand up; cradling his lazily grumbling pup in his arms as he scratches idly at him. âDonât worry about the plates; Iâll get them later.â He tells Sam as he pads into the house, heading into the living room that was full of his own custom work; clapping quietly to activate the dimming light from touch. âNot much but all handmade.â The smith says as though itâs not an accomplishment; but he didnât think this work was all that impressive compared to some of the pieces heâd done. Certainly didnât beat the dungeon heâd drafted, created and installed for a client; it paled in comparison honestly.
Hayden talked about his mom a lot. A true blue mama's boy. Sam's mom would call that a 'red flag', but she had married a mama's boy. Sam's father had been raised by a single mother. The drama between her father's mother and her mother had been well documented. It only got worse after his death. But Sam would never be like her mother. She'd sooner die. "She sounds like a good ma," Sam murmured, trying not to cock an eyebrow, trying not to be like her mother. Judgmental. Hayden was a teddy bear, and she didn't want to pluck out his plexiglass eyes and tear the threads out of him. She wanted to hug him, hold him, and kiss his skin where it was damaged.
When Sam was little, she'd carry around this blue stuffed bear everywhere she went. One of those that you could write on with special made markers and then wash clean. She called him Blu Bear and drew a universe on his stomach of misshapen giraffes, too tall zebras, and elephants with wrap around trunks all against stars. She had been so careful, but at nine years old, she had left poor Blu Bear at a carnival. Her mother called her reckless, but her father searched every ride she had been on, every cart on the Ferris wheel, every stand full of cotton candy and funnel cakes. Her space age savannah stuffed security blanket was never recovered, but she held dear the memory of manically searching for it, riding upon her pre-sick father's back as he searched low and she searched high.
Sam didn't want to be reckless with Hayden. She'd be careful with the big bear of a man. As they rose to retire into the living room, by the fire he had ignited for her, Sam pulled off her navy Calvin Klein jacket, hanging it on the back of the chair she had been seated in. Her sweater was tan, with a half turtle neck, but it was slightly cropped, showing just a little bit of stomach if she rose up, and clung tightly to her, showing off her perky tits. She figured Hayden had earned a couple overly friendly glances given the lack of moves he had made, and the respectful way he wanted to express himself, sharing himself, sharing maybe too much, more than Sam had. But it still made her surprisingly comfortable.
"Comfy too," Sam admitted as she sat, smiling up at the man who awkwardly stood holding his needy puppy. She wasn't a puppy, but she felt slightly needy now. "Hi," she said, shifting slightly so she was pointed towards the empty cushion of the love seat. She patted at it, biting her lower lip, trying not to seem like she wanted to be close to him, but she really did. Especially with the romantic dim light and the sparkling ambiance of the fireplace. She wanted his body heat, and his warmth, and another chance for their lips to meet, but only if he'd make a move.










