by Annette Lyon
“You going to answer that?” Connor asked. “At this hour, it’s probably something important.”
“Um, yeah.” Somehow Sam’s trembling thumb found the answer button. She put the phone to her ear before remembering that it was FaceTime. She tried to smooth out some frizzy wisps of hair, which only stuck out again. Nothing she could do about that now.
“Hey,” she said cheerfully.
“Why hello, Miss McKinley,” Steve said.
“Is ... everything okay?” Sam asked.
Did she sound breezy, as she intended? Or did her voice come off strained, which was what she actually felt? Her eyes darted Connor’s direction. She hadn’t mentioned Steve to him. She hadn’t said anything about being single, either, but now the whole shirt and selfie thing felt a little flirty. She hadn’t exactly hidden her excitement about meeting him; he probably assumed she didn’t have a boyfriend. How, exactly, did she handle a conversation with Steve in front of Connor?
I guess we’re about to find out.
“Everything’s fine,” Steve said. “Great, actually. Why?”
“I didn’t expect to hear from you for a few more hours, that’s all.”
He checked something on the desk beside him. “But it’s nine o’clock. I said I’d — oh, wait...” He rolled his eyes at himself. “I’m apologize. I was so excited that I completely spaced the time difference. It’s what, two in the morning there? I’m surprised you answered. Where are you, anyway? That doesn’t look like your apartment.”
“I’m just doing laundry. And of course I’d answer, no matter when you called.” Sam stopped herself before adding anything about how a girlfriend always answers the phone when her boyfriend calls. For some reason she couldn’t identify, she didn’t want to say boyfriend in front of Connor.
When Steve texted that he wanted to see her face, she’d hoped he meant in person, not over the phone. The excitement she’d felt earlier whooshed out of her like air from a balloon. Steve was clearly not in town, but she didn’t want her disappointment to be too obvious. Steve might still be planning to pop the golden question.
“So what’s up?” she asked. “What did you need to talk to me about?”
“Well...” Steve took a deep breath. “Remember what you said over Christmas break?”
She searched her memory but couldn’t pinpoint any one particularly meaningful conversation. “Remind me.”
“You said that you admired how I didn’t care what others thought of my passions, and that you were proud of how I chased after them, even when other people thought they were silly.”
“Oh, of course. I still think so. You know that.”
Steve had two older brothers who fit the “manly” mold a lot better than he did. One had been an all-star football player in high school and now played on a college team. The other was about to graduate from law school and already had a job lined up at a big firm, a position that would likely lead to a partnership. And then there was Steve — the singer, the dancer, the thespian.
Even with the push for girls in STEM fields, Sam understood what it was like to be a round peg trying to fit into a square hole. Even though she’d always aced her math classes, she regularly had guys trying to mansplain advanced calculations, problems she often ended up tutoring them on later in the semester. She’d chosen a predominantly male field, so of course she’d support Steve’s passion in an area that wasn’t traditionally masculine.
“I really took your words to heart,” Steve went on.
“I’m glad. You’re incredibly talented. Before long, the whole world will know your name, you’ll have a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and I’ll be able to point to movie posters and say I knew you when.” That is, unless she was walking the red carpet with him.
Steve looked to his right for a second, smiled sheepishly, then looked at the camera again. “Remember how I said I have something to tell you? I have some news. And a question for you.”
“Yeah?” Sam’s heart sped up, and she tried not to let her hopes rise too.
He gestured to someone out of frame to come closer, and a moment later another man appeared — Steve’s roommate, maybe? Her brow furrowed in confusion.
“This is Garrett,” Steve said. “He’s from Liverpool. We met rehearsing A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“Hi,” Sam said with a bewildered wave. “Nice to meet you, Garrett.”
“I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you,” Garrett said in a smooth British accent.
Steve and Garrett scooted closer to each other. Two spots of pink bloomed on Steve’s cheeks, and he seemed flustered. “He’s my ... um ... you see ... we...”
Garrett broke in. “We’re engaged,” he said simply.
The world seemed to come to a screeching halt. Stunned into numbness, Sam didn’t know how her arm was still extended, holding her phone, and why she hadn’t dropped it. She couldn’t feel her body or move her hand or say a word. It took Connor’s approach, combined with his concerned expression, to break her trance.
She blinked several times before managing, “Wh-what?”
“I know it’s unexpected,” Steve said. “Although you’ve known me so long that I’m sure you’re aware that I’m, well, not like other men.”
“No, no you’re not.” Suddenly, old conversations and experiences held entirely different meanings. Like how Steve always critiqued People magazine’s choice of Sexiest Man Alive and gave alternate — heated — opinions about who should have been selected instead. She used to think that his teenage obsession with D. H. Lawrence, Oscar Wilde, and Marcel Proust meant he loved deep, high-brow literature. Back then, the fact that they were all gay authors was nothing but a strange coincidence.
A flood of other moments, both small and large, came to mind, one after the other, as if she were watching her life play out with an entirely different script, and bright, neon highlights on things she’d never noticed.
How did I not put the pieces together?
“Sam, I should have been more forthcoming with you, especially when I was home over Christmas. But the truth is, I’m not ... I’m not...” His voice trailed off weakly.
“You’re not straight,” she finished. He didn’t even have the courage to say the words himself.
Garrett put his arm around Steve. “And we’re getting married.”
As if the first landmine hadn’t been enough, Sam felt as if a grenade had exploded beside her. “O-oh.”
Did she say the word? Or did only a strangled noise escape her throat? Either way, she wanted to hang up, crawl into a hole, and cry her eyes out.
I was so blind.
She’d gotten snarky questions about Steve and his orientation, and she’d always defended him, saying that of course he was straight. Not being built like a linebacker didn’t automatically make someone gay, she argued, and neither did a love of the arts. She and Steve had chemistry ... or she’d thought they had. They didn’t make out all the time or anything, but he’d always been affectionate. In private. He hated PDA. Or so he claimed.
“You are my best friend in the world,” Steve said. “I hope you know that.”
She felt herself nod. He’d said that before, but she hadn’t realized what it meant.
“My question is for my best friend. If you need to think about it before answering, just say the word. And I’ll understand if you say no.” Now that Sam had completely lost her voice, he seemed to have found his. “I’d like you to be my best man — or best woman, I suppose. You really are my best friend. You’re the one who helped me find the path to being true to myself, even if you didn’t realize it.”
“I don’t know, Steve…”
“Just think about it for a while. The wedding isn’t until spring, and I have enough miles that I could cover your plane ticket.”
That was his big question? It did involve an engagement, just not hers.
At some point, the call ended. Had it dropped, or had she disconnected it? Had Steve? She wasn’t sure. M
aybe Connor had, because somehow he now held her phone. Maybe her stunned fingers had lost their hold, and Connor caught it before it hit the floor. She felt as if she were in an alternate dimension, standing a step apart from reality, in a dimension where sights and sounds were muffled and confusing.
“Sam?” Connor said gently. He slipped the phone into her palm and wrapped her fingers around it. His touch was warm and strong — solid and real. It brought her back to the moment.
She tried to breathe normally, feeling as if she’d just returned from a bizarre dream, only to realize that she’d really woken up from a fantasy and now faced the real world. She looked down, where Connor’s hand was still wrapped around hers.
With her world shifted off its axis, she might have fallen over. For the moment, the only thing that felt solid was Connor’s hand encompassing hers. The rest of her seemed to be sinking into emotional quicksand.
Don’t let go, she silently begged of Connor.
“Sam?” Connor said hesitantly.
She blinked and looked up at him. “Yeah?” Her voice sounded far away.
“Do you want to go out for a bite? I know a place that serves breakfast all night. My treat.”
“Breakfast?” Sam said absently.
“They make the best pancakes and bacon around.”
“Bacon sounds good.” Her tone sounded hollow. She shook her head a couple of times, trying to rid her mind of the image of Steve and Garrett, of what their revelation meant for her. How everything she’d thought about her past and future had been upended. She didn’t know if she could trust her own judgment about anything anymore. Maybe she didn’t really like math as much as she thought she did. What if she’d entered the program because of all the pressure on girls to enter STEM fields? Everything she thought she knew had shattered into millions of pieces around her like so many ice crystals trampled underfoot. She’d been so blind. So stupid.
Moving forward, how could she ever trust herself enough around men? Maybe she should plan on being a single for life. That might be safer.
Other people had warned her that Steve was gay, but she’d always assumed they were too caught up in stereotypes, that they didn’t know the real Steve. Turned out that she hadn’t known him. She felt so unsure of anything that she almost wondered if gravity was still real.
“I can’t go back to my apartment,” she said in almost a whisper. How could she face her roommates, crashing the marathon with the most un-Valentine-like news ever? She’d kill any happy mood and attract pity. She couldn’t bear her friends’ pity.
“Is that a no on breakfast?” Connor tilted his head and squinted slightly.
“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, no, it isn’t a no. I mean, yes, I’d love some food. Thank you. That’s ... really nice of you to do for someone you don’t even know.”
Was she smiling? She meant to be, but she still felt as if she were moving through a thick fog. How could she know if her face was smiling the way she thought it was, when she hadn’t even known her boyfriend was in the closet?
Connor helped her into her coat then held the laundromat door open for her. With one hand on the small of her back, he led her through it. “I’ll text Ben to come down in twenty minutes to switch our loads.”
“Thanks.” Sam hadn’t even thought about her clothes until he’d mentioned them. She wouldn’t care if her red maxi got stolen. Not anymore.
Chapter Five
As they walked to Connor’s car, Sam’s entire body trembled. The confident woman he’d talked with earlier seemed to have withdrawn into a fragile shadow of herself. He unlocked the car with the fob, opened the passenger-side door, and helped Sam in to make sure she wouldn’t slip on the icy parking lot.
The walk around to the driver’s side didn’t take long, but it was enough time to decide to cheer Sam up. Connor climbed in, put the car into gear, and pulled out of the parking lot. That Steve guy would have called tonight and broken her heart whether or not Connor had been at the laundromat.
I’m glad I was there. That kind of thing would be tough to bear alone.
She wouldn’t have had anyone around to take her out for pancakes and bacon, for starters. Their breath fogged up the windows, so he directed air to defrost the windshield.
Sam absently tapped her phone, which lit up her face. She was probably checking social media and email, or maybe playing a mindless game. He could relate to distracting himself with his phone. If ever there was a time a person needed a distraction, it would be Samantha right now.
“The diner isn’t far,” he said, breaking the silence. When she didn’t reply, he added, “But we can go somewhere else. It doesn’t have to be breakfast. I’m sure we can find a Village Inn or something where we can order pie or hamburgers or whatever else you’re craving.” His glance slid to her and back to the road. She still didn’t answer. He tried again. “Unless you do want breakfast food...”
What was she thinking and feeling? Was he making things worse by talking? Maybe he should offer to take her to her apartment. Or, more likely, he should dig her car out of that snowbank at the side of the road and then see her safely home.
She finally looked up. “It’s past two.”
He tried to puzzle out her train of thought and the relevance to the time but failed. Her tone offered no explanation either. “What?”
“The next task is live.” She held out her phone, where a video was loading. “The timestamp on his selfie is ten minutes after ours.”
“That’s … great.” But under the circumstances, Connor didn’t really care. If he lost the challenge, he’d donate the money to the shelter himself. For now, he needed to make sure Sam was okay.
But why did she suddenly care about the Ultimate Bachelor Challenge? She hardly knew him. She had to be in shock after being dumped in the worst way. Connor pulled to the side of the road, shifted to park, and rotated in his seat so he almost faced her. Before he could talk, she did.
“You scored an extra hundred points for posting first, right?”
Connor looked at her phone. “Yeah, but that none of that matters right now when you’re—”
“Please, no. Stop.” Sam put a hand up, almost touching her fingertips to his lips. She shook her head several times, and when she spoke again, her voice wavered. “Right now, more than anything else, I need to be distracted. Helping Connor of Wynn Rocks beat the snot out of that pig Trevor Knowles is the best distraction I could possibly dream up So ... please ... just...” She swallowed hard. “Can we not talk about ... that?”
The screen’s glow bathed her features in soft light, making her look even prettier. She still had her hand up in a “stop” gesture, so close he could have leaned forward just a little and kissed her fingertips. At the thought, he found himself leaning forward, but fortunately regained his sanity and stopped himself before making contact. The last thing a woman needed after a bad breakup was a strange man hitting on her. Even if he was familiar with him from his online presence. And even if he wanted to comfort her. Even if he found her maddeningly smart and funny and gorgeous...
Now he was the one who needed a distraction. He coughed, putting the side of his fist to his mouth as an excuse not to touch her porcelain-like skin that would have looked like marble if not for the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and the little mole on the side of her chin that looked like the beauty marks old starlets used to paint on their chins or cheeks.
“What’s the next task?” Had she heard his voice squeak? He felt as if he were back in eighth grade, going through puberty again.
“Let’s find out.” Holding the phone between them, Sam leaned in. To his delight — and dismay — she drew so close that their arms touched and he could smell her perfume.
So much for being distracted by something else.
This video was much shorter than the last; Trevor did little more than read the second task from Johnny’s whiteboard. “Task number two is for a video instead of a still shot, and it must be at least fiv
e seconds long. Ready? Here it is: Be kissed by a girl whose name begins with the letter M.” He chuckled and fist-bumped Johnny. “Nice one. This will be fun. Right, Connor? Remember, it must be five full seconds.” He winked, and the video ended.
“Ugh,” Sam grunted. “His ego oozes through the Internet.”
“A lot of women — or, I guess I should use Trevor’s terminology and call them chicks—”
“Or babes,” Sam interjected.
“Oh, of course — babes,” Connor corrected with a knowing smile. “A lot of them fawn over Trevor. Why?”
“I don’t get it,” Sam said. “Any self-respecting woman would see through him a mile away.” Sam clicked her phone off and rotated to face Connor. He felt the lack of her touch, like the sudden loss of a warm comforter in winter. Except now she was looking right at him. He could lose himself in her eyes. Were they blue? In the dimness of the car, he couldn’t be sure. But by the street lamp’s glow, they seemed paler than the eyes of most redheads he’d known.
“Are your eyes blue?” he said. Lame segue, Fabio, he thought. She’d think he was feeding her a line. Too bad he couldn’t rewind the last five seconds for a do-over.
“They are,” she said, her face lighting up. “Pale blue. Not many people notice. But red hair and blue eyes is supposed to be one of the rarest combinations in the world.”
“You’re — I mean they’re — gorgeous.” Yet again he wished for a five-second time-travel machine.
Sam didn’t look annoyed or offended. She didn’t roll her eyes, viewing his words as a “line.” She simply lowered her chin, her eyes crinkling with pleasure. She looked flattered, though he couldn’t see her eyes anymore. Even better, she smiled. She seemed genuinely happy. A serious coup after Steve’s apocalyptic call.
Connor couldn’t help but be glad that something he’d said had created that reaction in her, and at an otherwise miserable time. He wanted to create that expression again, make her even happier. The urge was what he imagined an addict must feel, yearning for another hit of an intoxicating drug. Similar to what he felt while skydiving or rappelling or base jumping. His mind raced with how to make her smile like that again.
