Reckless Read Online Free PDF

between Monet’s Water Lilies and one of John William Waterhouse’s river nymphs.
    Memories of Samantha flooded my mind, blotting out the dreariness of my horrible surroundings. Images of her angelic innocence whisked me away to paradise. Something about her open face, the freedom with which her unbridled emotions played across it, touched my heart for the thousandth time that day.
    I held in a happy laugh, keeping it safe from the harm that waited to pounce on my joy if I let any out.  
    I almost felt greedy, as if sharing the good vibes Samantha brought me might actually bring some positive energy to the men in the room around me, but I didn’t want any opportunists stomping on my good mood.
    Normally, dudes in lock-up would go on and on about fucking countless hot chicks with legendary looks. The stories were about as believable as guys on the outside telling “I caught a fish this big” stories. Trading tall-tales about notching your bedpost was a bonding ritual worth a few laughs when the inmates weren’t fighting to survive. But those stories were mostly blustery bullshit.  
    Samantha, on the other hand, was truth and goodness. At that moment, I needed all the goodness I could get.
    I burrowed deeper into my mind. I imagined reaching my hand out to stroke Samantha’s cheek and her leaning into it. Not that she had done that today, not even close. I mean, she gave me plenty of green lights, especially after I cleaned her car, but she’d kept me at arm’s length most of the day, sizing me up.  
    Her uncertainty drove me crazy. In a good way. I wasn’t used to her kind of behavior from women.
    Thing was, usually, when I walked, I swaggered like my dick weighed a ton and hauling it around took gorilla strength. For some reason, Samantha made me want to drop the act. There was a moment earlier, when we’d been walking to the dorms and searching for paper towels for her car, when I’d almost cracked. For a second, all I’d wanted to do was take her hand in mine and skip along together like we were in kindergarten. Just me and her, looking for paper towels. On a mini-adventure.
    Me and Samantha.  
    I suddenly imagined writing “ Christos + Samantha ” on my binder and drawing a heart around it, if I had one. Man, I was nuts. I thought only girls were supposed to do that shit.
    I smiled and inhaled deeply, feeling Samantha’s energy swirl through me.
    I pictured her leaning toward me, lips ready for a tender kiss. Man, was I going through puberty again? I hadn’t had thoughts like this since I was chasing chicks in junior high. But it felt wonderful. Like the first day of summer vacation. That’s what Samantha was for me, when you get down to it. A vacation from bullshit, from image, from posing, from acting whatever part I felt I needed to play at any given moment.
    She was straight-up relaxation.
    I must have been trancing, because I could swear I heard soft waves whispering across warm sand and felt a cool breeze kissing my toes as the sun licked my skin. Samantha was right next to me, I could feel her presence.
    I almost freaked out, thinking some AC/DC inmate was trying to tongue my toes while I appeared to nap. I peeked out one eye, just to make sure I wasn’t losing it. Seeing the coast was clear, I dropped back through whatever astral portal was pulling my heart out of this place and into that distant utopia where Samantha waited for me.
    A second later, I was gone from the real world completely.
    Samantha and I were lying on loungers on a remote desert island somewhere on the other side of the planet, the fingers of our hands laced together while we sipped cool drinks on the diamond sand. There was not a soul around for hundreds of miles. We inhabited our own private paradise.
    I didn’t have a clear conception of time, but it must have been right around sunset in the real world. Samantha was probably staring at the sunset at that exact moment, sharing it with me. I don’t know how or why I was