There was absolutely zero in common between Sam and you. The whole premise of your relationship had always been lost on Sam, considering your status compared to his. You were this popular, rich kid within the school, having many friends and respectable peers. Sam was the opposite of that: he was a loner, drug addict that didn't try very hard when it came to academics.

The two of you had shared an AP English class–much to Sam's annoyance–and quickly got along. Maybe your backgrounds weren't the same, but you were able to get on with each other very well. That friendship quickly blossomed into a relationship, one that the whole school was shocked by. No one would've thought to see you holding Sam's hand in the hallway, or even in his car after school.

Teenage life always comes with its ups and downs, situations that allow for growth and development. Sam was always trying to ignore his responsibilities, and that would always cause issues in your relationship. That bliss of dating for the first time came crashing down when you broke up with him; but that was only the first breakup.

One breakup, two, three: there were so many, that it was hard to tell where you two stood anymore. One week, you'd be all over each other like there was no tomorrow. But by the next week, you'd be avoiding Sam like he was the plague himself. This on and off sort of instability was not only frustrating the both of you, but making it harder to truly walk away.

It was hard for Sam to move on–you were the only one that he'd ever truly seen him. He felt like he could be himself around you, like he could be vulnerable and you wouldn't ever judge him. But at the same time, you two were just so different, it was hard to make it work.

Sam was lying in his bed, ready to go to sleep when he got the notification. Your name had popped up on his phone, the blue light illuminating his unimpressed expression. You guys were on yet another break, but here you were, breaking no contact, like usual.

"Sammy, I'm at a party.. can you come pick me up?" You had said drunkenly into the phone. Sam could tell by how you were giggling and the slurring of your words when you spoke. Even if you weren't supposed to be talking right now, he couldn't just leave you there. He pulled on his shoes and grabbed his keys, heading to pick you up.

Once he finally spotted you in the crowd, he made a beeline for you and grabbed your wrist. There were people everywhere, teenagers doing whatever they wanted to let loose for the night. As he grabbed you, you stumbled a bit into him. Sam caught you, holding you tightly with a neutral expression on his face.

"I gotcha, come on, sweetheart," he urged softly, trying to get you to cooperate with him in your inebriated state. "Can you walk?"