Just Three Words

by Melissa Brayden

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. It just so happens to be true. You’re so talented. I can’t believe you hide it away.”

  “Technically,” she said, gesturing to Sam, “I don’t hide it away anymore. I’ve shared it with you.” A smile touched her lips as she looked earnestly at Samantha. “I’m glad I did.”

  With that, a jolt of something powerful hit Samantha square in the chest. Something she couldn’t name. But it came from the depths of the deep brown eyes she stared into, and it rocked her. She stood only because she didn’t know what else to do. “I think I’m going to do some reading,” she told Hunter quietly. Hunter nodded, seemingly at a loss for words as well.

  Once she’d closed the door to her room, Samantha stood there with her hand against it, wondering what the hell had just happened. Was she suddenly into Hunter now? That was an outrageous and stupid concept all at the same time, one she immediately brushed away. A total rebound reflex, she told herself. That was all this was. And since rebound feelings weren’t real, she thereby had nothing to feel ashamed of.

  She caught sight of her own reflection in the wall mirror. The girl staring back at her didn’t look especially sure of herself. She wasn’t glamorous or tall. But Hunter’s words echoed back to her, and she smiled, because maybe Hunter was right. Sam looked again, just to be sure, and there it was.

  Her glow.

  *

  “Wait. So the big knives can’t go in the regular silverware drawer is what you’re saying?” Hunter was trying to take it all in. “What does it matter?”

  “Trust me. It matters,” Brooklyn said, accepting Elvis’s leash so Hunter could tie her shoe. It was their weekly morning walk through Central Park, something Hunter looked forward to exponentially. When she’d first adopted Elvis, Hunter made it a point to take him for some extra recreation once a week in Central Park in addition to his daily walks through the neighborhood. Somewhere along the way, Brooklyn took to tagging along, and now it was their standing date.

  She and Brooklyn used the time to touch base with each other, offer advice, or just enjoy the serenity of the sights and sounds of the park waking up in the morning. Joggers, cyclists, bird watchers, and street vendors galore—they were all there. The city of New York stretched languidly from a good night’s sleep and went about its day all around them.

  Elvis loved the park and whined his enthusiasm as they inched closer to the lawn, where he knew his dreams would come true and they’d play a game of fetch with his tennis ball—what the little guy lived for. To say he pranced his way there would be an understatement. Elvis the Clydesdale was an accurate description.

  Brooklyn glanced at Hunter as they walked, dodging a school tour. “To you and me, knife placement sounds minor in the scheme of things. And it is. To Samantha, it’s her universe wrapped up in a nice little neat and orderly kitchen package.”

  Hunter smiled. “It’s shockingly true. The little things matter to Sam in a huge way. I’ve always known that about her, but I think I’m now beginning to understand the true magnitude of that statement.”

  Brooklyn deadpanned, “You have no idea. It’s endearing in some ways, but let me just say again: you have no idea.”

  “I think I might have to move everything around just to mess with her a little.” She grinned at the thought. Samantha getting all worked up and sexy-angry, using her authoritative accountant voice.

  Brooklyn placed a hand on Hunter’s forearm and regarded her with concern. “You’re a braver woman than me.”

  Elvis stopped to greet a pretty lady walking by and Hunter nodded at him in approval. A dog after her own heart. Strangely, she didn’t check out the woman herself. Just not really in that mindset today. The weather was gorgeous, the birds chirped, and even the tourists seemed to move at an appropriate pace on the sidewalks.

  “Oh, and the mail’s a big thing,” said Brooklyn. “I always picked it up for us and dropped it smack in the middle of the counter.”

  Hunter laughed. “So anywhere on the counter’s not enough? Needs to be the center, because otherwise, people may die? The world hangs in the balance of the mail’s placement?”

  Brooklyn held up a hand. “You’re preaching to the choir, Billy Graham. I get it.”

  “Fine. Middle of the counter is where the mail shall land. No mail has ever been so centered as the mail I plan to deliver. What else has she said? This is helpful stuff.”

  Brooklyn stopped their progress just inside the park and turned to Hunter. “For the record, I’m only divulging what would otherwise be confidential friend details because I feel guilty for moving out and want this roommate thing to work out for you guys. Plus, it would ruin the Savvy vibe if you guys wound up hating each other.”

  Hunter took a minute with that. “We’re not going to hate each other. That could never happen.”

  “I don’t know. I heard TV time was a bust.”

  “Yeah, I don’t really get I Love Lucy. And TV time is fun to an extent, but there’s so much out there to do in the world. Plus, this Lucy chick is completely—”

  “Before you voice anything about Lucy that you can’t take back, let’s just say that you’re off the hook in the TV time department. I’d be jealous if Sam replaced me anyway.”

  “Not possible. She misses you, Brooks. I know you’re caught up in the new living situation and the wonder that is Jessica Lennox, and rightfully so, but Sam’s had a rough go of it lately.”

  Brooklyn sobered. “I know. I’ve been meaning to set aside some us time. I miss her, too.”

  “So stop talking about it and just do it. Lemonade?” Hunter asked, as they passed a street vendor just inside the park.

  “Does Justin Bieber look like a chick?”

  Hunter nodded. “Lemonade it is.”

  With a couple of cool drinks in hand, they made their way to the lawn. Elvis yipped and leapt vertically a few times in celebration of what was about to happen. She handed the beat-up tennis ball to Brooklyn. “Want to do the honors?”

  “Excuse me, Elvis-the-dog? Is this what you’re after? Elvis-the-dog wants me to throw it?”

  Hunter smiled. “I think he likes it when you call him Elvis-the-dog.”

  “Well, it’s his name.”

  At just the sight of his ball, Elvis came undone. Turning in a half dozen frenzied circles, he shrieked loudly and wagged his tail for all he was worth. When Brooklyn didn’t immediately throw it, he used his two front paws to bounce off her chest. A process he repeated until she held up her hands. Of course one of them contained the ball, so he about lost it all over again. “All right. All right. And…go!” Like a rocket, Elvis tore off after the ball as if his life and those of his loved ones depended on its prompt retrieval. Brooklyn tilted her head. “I think he’s getting faster.”

  Hunter had to agree. “I will enter him in the dog Olympics.”

  “He’d win,” Brooklyn said.

  Hunter waved her hand. “All the trophies.”

  “He’d be in the Dog Hall of Fame for decorated dog Olympians.”

  “He’d need a parade.”

  “Mal could organize it.” Brooklyn sipped her lemonade. “So what’s new with you, my ultra-hip friend? Some girl named Cindy asked about you at Showplace the other night. I pled ignorance as to your whereabouts.”

  Hunter shrugged and slipped on her shades. “Haven’t been out much lately.”

  “Oh no. What will happen to the lesbian population of New York? Who will collect numbers and flutter hearts in your place? Service the girls who need”—she coughed purposefully—“servicing?”

  Hunter shoved Brooklyn playfully in response to the overt teasing. “I’m sure they’ll survive. And they can service themselves. You know, you imagine I sleep with way more women than I actually do. Flirt, yes. Sex, only occasionally. There’s a difference.”

  “Who knew?” But she dropped the smile, and Hunter understood that Brooklyn did, in fact, know.

  �
��I’ve been staying home more. I kinda like it.”

  Brooklyn stared in mystification. “Someone broke Hunter. You’re saying you’ve outgrown New York City? I don’t want to burst your bubble, pal, but from here, there’s no place more exciting. You could try Jersey, but…it’s Jersey.”

  “I love New York. That’s not it.”

  Brooklyn studied her. “Maybe it’s your wild-child ways that you’re outgrowing. Is that even possible?”

  It was an interesting hypothesis, but one Hunter quickly discarded. “Let’s not jump to crazy conclusions.” And then, before thinking better of it, she asked Brooklyn the question that had been on her mind all week, the question she hadn’t exactly planned on asking anyone: “Have you ever been into someone physically that you really shouldn’t be into?” Elvis had returned and, after waiting patiently, nudged the ball to Hunter, placing a paw on her knee for maximum customer service. “Here you go, pal. Make me proud.” She threw it for him again, and with a yelp, he was off.

  “Falling for someone off-limits?” Brooklyn raised her hand and glanced around. “Um, story of the last year of my life. Where have you been?”

  “Right. Not my brightest question. What did you do?”

  “I fell madly in love despite my vehement protestation and moved in with her. Now we wake up together every morning and it’s the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “While I’m happy for you, that’s not really an option for me, and lusting after her is not something I plan to embrace. Wouldn’t be a good idea. She’s not the kind of girl you just hook up with.” She left out the part that she’d already moved in with Samantha. Elvis had returned and now tossed the ball for himself into the air. Hunter looked on but was acutely aware of Brooklyn’s eyes on her. “What?” she finally asked, turning.

  Brooklyn shook her head, a smile across her face. “Since when have you ever been opposed to lusting after someone? Since when? This is getting so good.” She glanced around the park. “Where is the hidden camera?”

  “You’re funny. But I’m asking you for some actual advice.” And you know what? Maybe she’d said too much already. But the situation with Sam had been on her mind a lot of late, and she was about tapped out of ideas. They’d run into each other the morning before, both on their way to the shower. She should have paid more attention to the time, but she’d overslept and found herself face-to-face with Sam in the hallway. Sam, wearing nothing but a towel. A towel that offered an awesome glimpse of the tops of breasts and bare shoulders and soft skin. Life, in that moment, became too complicated for her to live it.

  She blew out a breath in defeat that was not at all lost on Brooklyn, who readjusted to face her more fully.

  “Who is it? The off-limits object of your lust-filled daydreams?”

  “You’re enjoying this way too much, Brooks.”

  “I am. I’m reveling. Doesn’t mean you get a free pass. Who is she?” Brooklyn threw the ball for Elvis, whose tongue was now hanging sideways out of his mouth from his glory-filled exertion. But he refused to give in and headed out in search of the offending tennis ball.

  Realizing there was no way she could escape this conversation, which she was at fault for starting, Hunter had to think fast. “My yoga instructor.”

  Brooklyn thought on this and a lazy smile took shape. “Some people are really into the whole teacher-student thing.”

  She wasn’t opposed to the dynamic. It did sound kinda sexy. Then she remembered to play her part. “Not me. I need yoga to be an escape. I don’t want to ruin that. Yoga matters, Brooklyn. Big-time.”

  “I can see that. You’re hardcore.”

  It was a total lie and she felt horrible about it, but there was no way she was telling Brooklyn that it was Sam going through her mind each day, and her smile, and the way her hair landed just so when she tossed it, and the look she got on her face when she was contemplative. God, she loved that look. Not to mention the sexy accountant glasses that came and went and left Hunter in a perpetual state of wonder.

  “I’ll need a name.”

  “What? Oh, um, April.”

  “April is a very sexy name.”

  Hunter rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t matter. When you have an existing relationship with someone, especially an important one, it’s a bad idea to bring romance into the picture and risk the really good thing you have.”

  Brooklyn eyed her skeptically. “So…yoga, and its place in your life, constitutes an important relationship?”

  She was going with it. “Yep. Yoga saves lives. You’re not paying attention.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Are you with me right now?”

  Brooklyn nodded. “So with you.” A pause. “Wait, so you’re talking romance and not just lust? You have legitimate feelings for yoga queen?”

  Hunter hesitated at the question. But no. Uh-uh. She refused to consider that option. There had been a time when she’d had a few butterflies for Samantha, yes, but she was long past them. It was an immature reaction to a minor crush. “No, this is physical attraction. Purely. I mean, I think she’s great, don’t get me wrong, but the problem is that I want to make out with her for an hour. And I can’t think that way about her. Not this girl.”

  “I don’t know. There seems to be more to this than maybe you’re admitting, even to yourself. I think you’re feeling a little out of your depth with this woman, and that says something. Don’t put limits on your feelings, Hunter Blair. I’m in a relationship, so I’m suddenly quite wise.”

  Hunter laughed. “The wisest, clearly. And I am not out of my depth.”

  “Or course not. Not you.” Brooklyn leaned back onto her elbows. “So this April is—”

  “Hunter? Hey. I thought that was you!” Hunter turned at the sound of her name and—oh, sweet Mary in heaven. Seriously? Was this really happening to her right now? April stood just a few feet away wearing, wouldn’t you know it, yoga crop pants and a snug hot pink workout top.

  “Hey, April,” she said, standing.

  Worst timing ever.

  Brooklyn was up and next to her in 2.3 seconds, smiling like she’d just won the coincidence lottery. “April. Wow. Hi, I’m Brooklyn.” The two shook hands. “Hunter speaks extra highly of your class. It’s nice to put a face to the name.” At that, Hunter cut Brooklyn a warning glance.

  Too late. In response to Brooklyn’s words, April’s smile turned into a beam, and beaming was so not part of the plan. Except maybe it should be. Maybe April was the perfect distraction, or even the cure-all, for her lusting-after-the-roommate dilemma.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too. I was going through a little pre-class workout before heading to work. Helps get my head in the game. Plus, outside stretching is so peaceful.”

  “I’ve found that, too,” Brooklyn said with a straight face. “The stretching. Of the outdoor variety. It’s awesome. All the leaves. Nature rocks.” Brooklyn held up a fist in solidarity and Hunter shook her head. Brooklyn had never stretched outdoors in her life.

  “Will I talk to you later?” April asked.

  Spontaneously embracing her new plan, Hunter slid April her best smile. “Definitely. I’ll text you tonight. See what you’re up to.”

  April jogged backward a few feet, causing her hair to bounce, along with other admirable parts of her body. It should have affected Hunter, the bouncing. It really should have. A quick check-in with herself, and…nothing.

  A really hot girl was bouncing, and nothing!

  Not cool at all.

  Unacceptable.

  “Perfect. Nice to meet you, Brooklyn.” And with that she was on her way. Hunter stared after her just in time for a punch in the arm from Brooklyn. “Yoga queen is super hot. And completely ripped—you left that part out. Did you see the abs? I’d buy them dinner, so I vote yes. Fall madly in love with her, please, and have tiny, flexible yoga babies. They can Tree Pose in height order. Think of the Christmas card potential.”

  “You don’t get a
vote.”

  “Pshhh. I do, too,” Brooklyn said. “I won most valuable voter in high school.”

  “You did not. That’s not even a thing.”

  “It is. I promise. I rock at it. Voting and such.”

  Hunter laughed and slung her arm around Brooklyn as they made their way out of the park. There really was no one like her. “Come on, trouble. I better take this dog home so he can sleep for a few hundred years.”

  “I like my new nickname. Trouble. I sound dangerous.”

  Hunter grinned. “And you are. I’ve seen you behind the wheel.”

  “Aw, thanks for noticing.”

  Bouncing failure or not, at least Hunter had a plan. She needed a little distraction and she’d get it. It would just take more concentration. She’d hope to gain some insight from her walk with Brooklyn, and she had. She was Hunter Blair. And per usual, she was calm, cool, and in control.

  Chapter Six

  Dating was a bitch.

  There was a reason Samantha had enjoyed being free of it for a while, in the cushioned existence of a relationship. She hated the vulnerability of it all, the great unknown. But after some careful thought, maybe rebound mode wasn’t such a bad place to be. If nothing else, it was a distraction from some of the more difficult feelings associated with the loss of Libby in her life. Maybe she should take that rebound ball and run with it. So after unloading the dishwasher, showering, and getting ready for the day, she sat with a cup of coffee and studied her laptop.

  Bachelor number one was kind of cute, in a bookish way. Samantha had to tilt her head to the side in response to the bow tie he wore in the photo, however. She squinted at the computer screen in contemplation. She wasn’t sure she was a bow tie kind of girl. Reaching for her coffee, she scrolled to option two. A bachelorette this time. This one looked serious, and so did the hateful glare she sported. It said something about a person who glared at the camera and then selected it as their profile photo, didn’t it? Yeah, it says serial killer. Next.