Free Seduced by Lies by Stacey Quinn Page A

their names does not equate to the ability to appreciate their works.” She finished her statement by casually flicking the dregs of her spliff across the smoking area and into the side of the adjacent bench, where it collided and burst into a shower of a hundred tiny, red hot motes of flame, which proceeded to float and drift mesmerizingly to the graveled ground, each miniscule ball of flame extinguishing individually before reaching their final destination.
    Sam realized that she would not let him win this argument, no matter how many or whose names and examples he threw at her, and it was fast approaching the moment that all the other College students would be arriving, and this spectacular (if challenging) early morning encounter would be forced to come to an end. His chest tightened with dread at the thought of departing - he hadn’t made enough of an impression yet, he’d done nothing worthy of convincing her! Sure he’d reeled off a few fancy names of fancy writers, but it would take a hell of a lot more than that to convince a girl like this to willingly spend time with a guy like him. Obviously she would learn all of his intellectual, mature and creative attributes over time, but time was not something he was particularly laden with at the moment, and the girl was beginning to shuffle and fidget on her plastic perch, as if growing restless.
                  Sam was floundering, his mouth opening and closing silently like the dying throes of a land-locked guppy fish. He had just one weapon left in his artillery, and no idea of how to properly utilize it or of the impact it would make. But in his mind, he had very little choice - the universe had given him this unexpected second chance to prove himself - to make a lasting impact with the one and only person he could possibly connect with in this otherwise miserable world. He knew he had to make this opportunity count, because the universe wasn’t likely to hand out a third chance!
                  “Do you really want to know why I want to know you?” He blurted out in a singular stream, propelling the words out of his mouth before his lips or tongue had a chance to disobey. The girls fidgeting ceased, and she was instantly as tense as a statue.
    “Well, yes. That’s what I asked you in the first place.” She spoke mechanically, all trace of any amusement or happiness that may have been lurking behind her facade was now completely gone. She looked like a criminal in a courtroom, waiting for her sentence to be read.
                  “Well, aside from all the other reasons, which are real reasons before you say anything, I guess the main thing would be...would be...” Sam struggled to get his words out around the golf ball that had suddenly appeared in his throat. One of his father's old sayings popped into his head, seemingly from nowhere -
    “A true man’s sword is his mastery over the English language. With that weapon he can fight, defend and conquer any battle.”
                  Whether through surprise at hearing his father's voice or inspiration from the words he spoke, Sam wasn’t sure, but his throat was suddenly clear of its mysterious obstruction, and the words that had been trapped within it now flowed out of his mouth in an unexpectedly calm and collected timbre -
                  “I think you’ve been hurt, and hurt badly - so badly that it’s changed who you are or were. I can see it in your eyes. And now you feel angry and isolated, separated or different from everyone around you because they couldn’t possibly understand what you’ve been through. But I can understand, because I’ve changed too - I’ve hurt and lost and I want to help you - I want us to help each other, to at least try, because...you’re the only person who can make me feel anything good anymore.”
                  The girl listened patiently and stony faced through the whole speech, waiting