I'm sat, propped up in my childhood bed and my favourite novel in hand when Sam facetimes me. It's 8:35 am and I'm surprised that he's even conscious this early in the morning, but I answer the call anyway.

His sleepy face pops up on my screen and I decide to ditch my book as Sam has effortlessly stolen my attention anyway.

"Hey." He mumbles, a yawn interrupting any further greeting.

"Hey sleepyhead, what are you doing awake so early?" I ask, my eyes flitting over his face.

"Missed you." He answers, although that's not really a valid answer to my question.

"I miss you too...are you in my bed?" I ask, my eyes narrowing as I spot a familiar looking lamp.

"Your bed smells like you." He says simply and I inhale sharply through my teeth.

"You have it bad." I tease, winking at him. He glares at me, muttering under his breath.

"Whatever. Why do you look so good in the morning?" He asks, and I assume that he's not quite capable of coherent thoughts right now.

"It's a talent." I mumble, raking a hand through my wayward hair.

"How's your dad?" He asks, rubbing his eyes.

"He's good. We had a bit of a moment last night." I admit and Sam looks intrigued.

"A moment?" He questions and I nod.

"Yeah, he apologised for being so distant since my mum passed and we had a genuine chat, it was really nice." I murmur, itching around the edges of my cast which are beginning to irritate me.

"That's great, 'lias!" He says and I nod, smiling to myself.

"Yeah, we had a family dinner with your mum and sisters last night." I add and Sam's eyes widen considerably.

"Without me? I'm going to have serious words with that woman." He mutters and I laugh.

"She misses you, I'll tell her that the feelings mutual when I see her later." I assure and Sam raises a brow.

"You're seeing her again? Why?" He demands, watching me carefully and I grin.

"Well, that's between me and Cam, isn't it?" I say smugly. He rolls his eyes, feigning disinterest.

"Fine, I don't want to know anyway." He says huffily.

"That's alright, the twins are pretty eager to see me again so if you don't want to chat..." I taunt, Sam's eyes narrowing at me.

"Fuck you, Eli." He utters icily and I laugh.

"Aw, sweetheart, don't be like that." I coax, knowing that I have him in the palm of my hand as his expression melts at the term of endearment.

"I'll speak to you later, ok? Take care of yourself." I insist and he nods dutifully.

"See you tomorrow." He mumbles and I smile softly.

"That seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?" I ask and he nods vehemently.

"I'll be home before you know it." I promise and he nods, hanging up eventually.

I sigh, smiling to myself as I make my way downstairs. I never thought that I'd feel this intensely for anyone but the feeling in my body, the mood radiating off me argues otherwise.

My dad is already at the dining table which isn't surprising, but instead of buried in his phone, he's reading a book. The same book that's tucked under my arm.

He looks up and smiles, which I return as I hold up my book.

"My favourite." I say, resting it on the table as I take a seat.

"We have something in common." He responds, sliding the plate of toast towards me. I butter a slice and munch on it as my mind wanders. My mum always made bonding easier for us, so learning to do this alone is an entirely alien experience.

"So, I heard you were heading to Camila's this morning?" He asks, raising a suggestive eyebrow and I nod, smirking to myself.

"Yeah, how do you think she'll react?" I ask genuinely, not sure what type of response to expect of Sam's mother.

"It'll surprise you, that's guaranteed. That woman is a mystery even to me, but I'm sure she'll be thrilled for the two of you. Lord knows it's taken you long enough." He mutters dryly. I nod at the encouragement, glancing at my watch.

"I'm going to get ready, she's expecting me at 10." I explain and he nods, gesturing for me to go ahead.

I shower and dress quickly, brushing my teeth as I attempt to lace my shoes. Everything is so much harder now that one of my hands only partially functions. I get there eventually and bid my dad goodbye as I leave the house.

The Rivera's only live 5 minutes down the road which was very convenient for Sam and I when we were young. I check my watch again, a strange feeling lingering in my bones as I hesitate to knock on the door. I take a deep breath and knock, knowing that, however anxiety provoking this situation is, it's what I want and it'll be worth it in the long run. Hopefully.

The door swings open momentarily and I'm greeted by a beaming Victoria.

"Hi Eli!" She chirps as Emma skips around the corner, smiling shyly.

"Hey girls, how are you?" I ask, ruffling Victoria's hair lightly.

"We're good, mum's waiting for you in the kitchen." She says, drifting back towards her twin. I follow them through to the kitchen, following the gentle humming which is drifting through the house.

"Good morning, Camila." I say and she turns, beaming at me in just the same way as her daughters.

"Good morning, Eli! Here, have a seat! Girls go and get ready, you're being picked up by Abby's mum in half an hour!" She says, shooing them away and they do as they're told, albeit reluctantly.

"So, Eli, what do I owe this pleasure?" She asks, sitting down opposite me. My heart stutters slightly, my nerves getting the better of me as my insecurities make a sudden appearance. I interlock my fingers clumsily; my cast getting in the way and take a deep breath.

"I'd like to speak to you about Sam." I start and her expression drops.

"What did that boy do now?" She deadpans and I choke on a laugh.

"Nothing, he's fine, he hasn't done anything." I assure and she sighs heavily, as if I haven't said the right thing.

"The truth is I'm in love with him, and I'd like your permission to date him." I say plainly, my heart all but leaping out my chest. Her jaw drops as she processes what I just said, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

"Have you told him how you feel?" She asks hesitantly and I nod.

"He feels the same way." I breathe disbelievingly, as though it's a miracle. I think perhaps it might be but I'm not going to question it. Camila smiles adoringly at me, her eyes sparkling in just the same way her son's do.

"Of course he does, he's been crazy about you for years." She says, clasping my hand in hers. I look down at our hands, not sure how to respond to that other than with a smile.

"Well, I am in no way going to stand in your way." She says happily, her voice rising several octaves.

"I have your permission?" I clarify and she nods energetically.

"Oh, I can't wait until you're family!" She squeals, flinging her arms around me suddenly and I laugh at her enthusiasm.

"I don't think that will be for a while." I mumble but I don't think that that matters too much to Camila. I pat her back gently, glancing around as I wait for her to compose herself.

"Now, if my boy does anything to break your heart, I'll castrate him using my nail scissors." She says, drawing back from me and my eyes widen considerably.

"What?" I ask, absolutely bewildered.

"Eli, I know you and you possess the kindest, most beautiful soul and to hurt my boy would be unimaginable to you. You are your mother's son which is how I know that Sam's in good hands." She says kindly.

"You're different, he's serious about you and he always has been. I have faith in him." She muses and I nod.

"So do I." I concur and she smiles proudly.

"Can I expect another visit asking for his hand in marriage?" She asks good-humouredly and I blush.

"Eventually." I admit and she pauses, her face morphing into disbelief as she giggles wildly. It doesn't seem so ridiculous to me. Sam is everything I've ever wanted in a friend, in a relationship and even though there's still a lot that I have to learn about him, I'm certain that there's no one else I'd rather spend my life loving.

_

The train ride home is quiet and lonely but I'm anything but sad. My wide smile is threatening to never leave my face and I think my fellow passengers are finding it a bit concerning. I try and tone it down, settling further into my seat.

My dad and I had spent the day together and it had been nice. Really nice. Of course, it wasn't the same as when my mum was alive, how could it be, but it was new and different and that's okay too. We had spoken amiably about everything, the parallel lines of our lives merging suddenly and I abruptly realised just how much I had been missing.

I love my father and I love Sam's family as though they're my own and that resonates in me every time I see them.

I glance at my watch and smile to myself, glad that I had been able to snag a seat on an earlier train. Sam's expecting me home tomorrow and I want to surprise him. My leg jiggles restlessly, my fingers toying with the straps of my rucksack as I wait impatiently for the train to come to a stop.

I snatch up my bag and wait beside the doors, exiting the train as fast as humanly possible. The station is only a ten-minute walk from our flat but I make it in six.

I need to chill.

I fish out my keys and insert them into the door and push it open. The flat is eerily quiet and I wait for a moment before deciding Sam must be out. I close the door and head up to my room, dumping my rucksack on the floor and flopping onto my bed.

As good as it is to visit my dad, this is my home now. I lay there for an exponentially long time before my idle thoughts are broken by a clattering sound which emanates from downstairs. I prop myself up, frowning when I realise that I hadn't heard Sam come in.

I creep out of my room and stealthily walk down stairs, avoiding the second to last step because I know it creaks. Sam is stood at the kitchen table, surrounded by an odd array of groceries. He watches them carefully, tilting his head as though he's not certain what to do next.

"What are you doing?" I ask, unable to help myself. His head whips around, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before an unbearably happy smile overtakes his face. His arms twitch but he forcibly remains in his spot and I can almost hear the debate in his head. To hug or not to hug.

"Cooking, or I was going to attempt to anyway." He answers offhandedly, although his sparkling eyes betray him.

"Thank god I came home early." I say, laughing to myself as I move towards him. He watches me carefully, smiling at my joke as he shrugs helplessly.

I wrap an arm around him, pulling him towards me as I survey the food on the table. He leans into me, sighing happily to himself but I don't comment. I feel the same way.

"What was this meant to be?" I ask curiously.

"Uh, at first it was pasta."

I hum to myself, my mild horror not showing externally but internally, it is very real.

"Different ideas kept popping into my head and food shopping is hard!" He says in defence and I crack a smile at that.

"I'll sort it out." I assure, squeezing him gently but he sighs defeatedly, nodding against my shoulder.

I pick out some items, deciding pasta is a good a plan as any and start preparing. Sam watches me from the table, an odd smile on his face.

"Stop looking at me like that, it's creepy." I mutter.

"Looking at you like what?"

"Like you haven't seen me in months." I drawl.

"How was my family?" He asks, changing the subject suddenly. I raise a brow but let it slide, answering his question.

"They're good, your mum was happy to see me but she misses you." I say and he nods pensively.

"And your dad?" He asks.

"He was good, we talked a lot and I'm actually looking forward to seeing him again. I think your mum is a good influence." I mumble as Sam smiles.

"I'm not sure I would use the word 'good' to describe it." Sam chirps and I laugh, agreeing with him.

"So, she texted me this morning." Sam states and I glance at him over my shoulder.

"Your mum?"

Sam nods, his eyes gazing at me meaningfully.

"She was really excited about something and asked me to take care of you." He says suspiciously. I scoff at the thought of Sam taking care of me, he can barely take care of himself.

"Did you speak to her?" He demands, ignoring my interruption.

"Course I did, you know I did."

"Yeah, but did you talk about me?"

I turn to face him, a knowing smile on my face.

"I would never." I say teasingly and he rolls his eyes, gently nudging my shoulder.

"Liar."

"Guilty." I admit, holding my hands up as his eyes narrow.

"All I ever do is think about you, so of course I'm going to talk about you; and besides, your mum wanted to know how you were and why you weren't returning her calls." I say as Sam curses under his breath.

"Shit, I forgot about her calls," He says, rushing from the kitchen. He pauses in the doorway and pokes his head around, scowling at me.

"And stop sweet-talking me!" He adds, although his voice holds no authority whatsoever and his cheeks are tinted pink.

"I can't do that." I call out, laughing as I hear his grumbles escalate up the stairs.

I continue my food prep, humming under my breath as I work quickly and effectively. Sam used to try and assist me but we soon decided that the entire process was ultimately quicker and safer without him.

"Yes mama! I know that, I couldn't get out this weekend because of...well if you asked Eli about it then why are you asking?! I know that...I know that as well. Why on earth would you think that? I'm sorry...mama? I can't hear you...you're breaking up!" Sam wails, scowling to himself as he hangs up.

"So that went well." I state, glancing at Sam's frustrated expression.

"I love her from afar." He utters, flinging his phone on the table.

I leave the sauce simmering and move over to him, sweeping his curls away from his eyes. he glances up, his expression softening only minutely.

"What did you say to her?" He asks, more pleadingly this time. There's no way I'm giving up this secret quite yet, so I simply smile.

"You want to order pizza? We can get your favourite toppings and we'll have pasta tomorrow?" I suggest suddenly and Sam perks up instantly, his eyes widening as he nods. He scampers upstairs, fetching his laptop as he merrily orders from our favourite pizza place. Well, it's Sam's favourite pizza place, but I'm not sure he knows that.

I set up the next episode of our latest TV show as Sam patters back downstairs, his laptop precariously perched on his hands. His blanket is draped across his shoulders and he flops into the sofa contentedly, his body immediately moulding to mine. I lift my arm and he shifts closer, his head nudging into the crook of my neck. Every action feels so right and I realise that my home can't be found in this flat, but in the man sat next to me.

Why has it taken me so long to realise that?