On The Edge Of My Seat | Adam Lazzara

They had never known each other much. Not really.
Names were as personal as they had gotten.
"State your names to the class loudly," the new and seemingly insane teacher called out.
"Amy Lane."
"Adam Lazzara."

"Samantha Lennbe."
"Karl Lexington."

They had never known each other much. Passing glances were nothing momentous or memorial.
They were acquaintances, and even that was stretching the reality rubber band.
They had nothing to do with each other at the slightest. And it seemed fine that way. It had, for 5 years of middle school and 1 year of highschool.
Until, of course the PTC. The Parent and Teacher Conference. Where, after being introduced by Mrs. Gibta, that crazy teacher, Mrs. Lennbe and Mrs. Lazzara talked. And talked. And talked.
They talked about Adam. They talked about Sam. They talked about being neighbors, and gossiped about that eccentric family at the end of the cul-de-sac. They talked about sporting events. They talked about the classes. They even talked about the patterns upon the paper napkins.
So when Mrs. Lazzara came home and told Adam about how wonderful the Lennbes were, and wehn Mrs. Lennbe came home and told Sam about how charming the Lazzaras were, you can imagine the look upon both teenagers' faces.
"Who?"
"Our neighbors Adam/Sam! Our neighbors, right next door! Wonderful/Charming people!"
"Whatever Mother."
So Mrs. Lazzara and Mrs. Lennebe kept in contact. And when Mrs. Lennbe got a new job at the local sandwich shop, and couldn't get off the lunch shift, there was no one to pick Sam up from basketball practice.
And Mrs. Lazzara, who had "overheard" this predicament, politely offered to pick Sam up. And what a coincidence, Adam had track practice too.
But one day, Mrs. Lazzara didn't show up. She wasn't parked at the front of the school, where she was everyday, with her window rolled down and arms flailing vivaciously. She wasn't calling their names out and telling them to hop in the car.
Sam stood there, track bag slung over her shoulder, just staring at the empty spot on the parking lot where Adam's mother should have been.
Adam walked up to her. He glanced from the her, to the spot she was staring at, to her, and back at the spot.
"Lennbe," he mumbled.
"Lazzara," she acknowledged.
He proceeded forward, to a familiar looking car. And as Sam watched, she noticed that the car was Mrs. Lazzara's. But there was no Mrs. Lazzara. It puzzled her.
"Lazzara!" she cried out, jogging after him. He stopped in front of it and turned towards her.
"Yes?"
"Where's your mom?"
"Not here, obviously," Adam replied, pulling something from his pockets. A little something called keys.
"Adam, why do you have the keys?" Sam asked, gawking at him.
He smirked at her, twirling the set of keys around his fingers. "Did you just call me by my first name, Lennbe?"
She didn't lose her confidence. "Yeah, I did Adam. I have one too, you know."
"I know Le..." Adam stopped. "I know Sam."
It sounded awkward coming from his lips, in his voice. Like trying to swim for the first time. You've done the motions out of water, in secret, when no one was watching. But once you got in the pool, once you hit the water and try your amazing, well practiced skills, nothing magical happens. It turns out that you don't know how to swim. The movements you had done earlier don't seem to connect with the water.
She smiled softly at him. "Thanks," she whispered.
"Y-yeah. No problem."
They stood there silently, slightly uncomfortable. Then, Adam's cockiness kicked in.
"What, no reward? No hug, no kiss on the cheek?"
Sam rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, Lazzara -"
"Hey hey! What's with this Lazzara thing? I know no Lazzara -"
"Adam!" she cried out, and they burst out in laughter.
As they calmed down, Sam did the unthinkable. She kissed his cheek. He stood there, sort of shocked.
"What? You asked," she stated nervously.
"I...I didn't think you'd do it. But thanks, Sammykins -"
"Hey hey. What's with this Sammykins thing? I know no Sammykins," Sam mocked. He chuckled, and unlocked the car. "Come on. I'm taking you home."
"What?!"
"You don't trust me?"
"Adam, you don't have a license. Oh my god, you don't even have a permit!"
"Yes I do!"
"You can't drive with me in the car without a license!"
"You want to walk?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye.
"Um, hell no."
"Then hop in. It's only 10 minutes away. If anyone asks, we're family. My mom trusts me."
Sam sighed, giving in. She threw her bag in the backseat and climbed into the passenger side of the car. "Well, I would hope she would. She's your mom."
"She's your 'mom' too, you know," Adam responded, starting the car and slowly backing out.
"I'm closing my eyes. I cannot watch."
Adam sighed. "You're not going to die."
Suddenly, he stopped.
"I thought we were going home," Sam questioned, peeking through the cracks of her fingers.
"I want music," he mumbled, searching the glove compartment. "Michael Jackson, Beethoven, Yani, Michael Jackson, where is the good music?!"
"I have a The Descendants CD in my bag."
"Which one?"
Sam reached into the backseat and rummaged through the bag. "Um, Enjoy!"
"I like that one. Immature and Pointless -"
"And Mature and Emotional?" Sam asked, popping it in.
"Exactly," he reassured. They drove on, and when the car came to a stop at the Lazzaras' driveway, he glanced at her.
"You can just, like, walk 10 feet to your house, right?"
"Yes, Adam. I have legs."
.continued
Without warning, Adam leaned over and kissed Sam lightly. She didn't even hesistate to kiss him back, ironically.
Pulling away and blushing, he coughed and looked out his window. Sam shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and glanced at the floor.
"Adam?" she timidly inquired. He turned towards her quickly, almost inflicting upon himself whiplash.
She smiled at him. "That was nice."
"You know what's nicer?"
She shook her head slightly. "No."
"I think I want to do it again," he whispered, leaning forwards once more.