Just Three Words

by Melissa Brayden

  Everyone knew that. Everyone.

  Chapter Eight

  The office clock read 5:53 when Samantha checked it Wednesday evening. Somehow, between her call with Serenity to finalize a payment schedule and her creation of a new Excel spreadsheet for their account, Brooklyn had left for the day. This meant she was probably headed home to change into comfortable clothes for Throwback Movie Wednesday and Samantha needed to step it up if she wanted to be ready in time.

  They’d selected Boeing Boeing with Tony Curtis, which had Sam excited because she’d never seen it. After tying up some final loose ends at Savvy, she headed upstairs and went about prepping for the film. Comfy clothes, check. Diet soda, poured. Popcorn, popped. Wine, open and breathing, for post-popcorn consumption. She cued up the DVD and checked the clock on the microwave. Only a couple of minutes after seven, so technically Brooklyn wasn’t late yet when you took into consideration that Brooklyn operated on an entirely different time system.

  Hunter’s bedroom door was closed. She’d beat Samantha out of the office, but Sam could hear the faint sound of a guitar, which meant Hunter was definitely in there and probably lost in her own world. Earlier that morning, she’d stopped by Sam’s desk and quietly apologized for her outburst the evening prior, citing a bad night. Sam accepted, and they’d moved into awkward overly polite territory, which fell away by lunchtime when Hunter stole three French fries off her plate as she passed, prompting Samantha to throw a wadded-up piece of paper at her retreating form, earning them each an admonishing look from Mallory, who was on the phone with a potential client.

  At 7:36, Samantha’s allowance for Brooklyn-time was slipping. She checked her phone and stole a bite of popcorn in the process. No messages. She fired off a text.

  On your way?

  Time ticked by, but no response came in.

  “Hey,” Hunter said an hour later as she passed by the couch. Sam lay on her back staring up at the industrial rafters across the ceiling. “What happened to the movie?”

  “You ask an excellent question.”

  Hunter paused, peering down at her. “Oh no. Brooklyn canceled?”

  “No. That would have required some sort of communication. That would have been the thoughtful thing to do,” Sam answered resolutely. “We made plans for Throwback Movie Wednesday over the weekend. She was the one who brought it up and now she’s flaked out on me. I can only assume that’s what happened, however. Either that or she’s been put in jail for reckless driving.”

  “That second part is a definite possibility.” Hunter perched on the arm of the couch. “I’m sorry, Sam. Want me to watch it with you?”

  “Negative.”

  Hunter didn’t exactly know what to do here. She was pretty sure Brooklyn hadn’t meant to stand Sam up, but at the same time she was angry at Brooklyn for allowing this to happen, especially after she’d just vowed to fix her friendship with Sam, who now looked like a dejected little puppy. She had an idea. “You know we’re gonna need our own traditions, don’t you?”

  Sam shifted her gaze to Hunter, a modicum of interest taking shape on her face. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you and Brooklyn had your whatever-day-of-the-week movie nights, that I can never keep straight, and your Lucy-the-troublemaker marathons. We probably need to step up our roommate relationship if we have any chance of competing.”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of Samantha’s mouth. Jackpot. “Yeah? What about Dishwasher Fridays?”

  “You think you’re funny.” The green eyes danced and Hunter shook her head. “How do you feel about jigsaw puzzles?”

  Sam seemed to think on this. “I did those little square ones as a kid.”

  “No, amateur. I mean, the real ones. The five-thousand-piece monsters that take over the kitchen table for a week or two.”

  Sam sat up. “Do you have one of these puzzles to contribute to the cause?”

  “More than one. And three of them, I’ve yet to work.”

  “And you want us to do one?” Sam looked hopeful.

  “I think it could be fun. Want me to get it?”

  “Well, that depends. Can we drink wine while we work it?”

  “Oh, I think we have to drink wine while we work it. I mean, if you want to do it right.”

  “And I do.” Samantha scurried up from the couch and went about clearing off the kitchen table. Hunter warmed at Sam’s sudden excitement and retrieved a box from the top of her closet. “I’ve been holding on to this one for a special occasion, and I’m feeling like this is kind of the night for it.”

  “Because I’m in rebound mode, and now my friend has neglected me, too, and you feel bad?”

  “And now we have to hit pause.”

  “Why are we pausing?”

  “Because there’s something you need to recognize. This is not a pity move, Ennis. I’ve never worked a puzzle with anyone. I’m pretty proprietary about my puzzles, and I’m only agreeing to work this one with you because I want to. Is that understood?”

  A smile grew on Sam’s face and her voice was quiet when she answered. “Understood.”

  “Great.” She turned the box around. “We’ll be working on Rue Paris by the artist D. Davidson.”

  Samantha took the box from Hunter and studied the image on the front. “It’s so beautiful. God, I want to go to Paris.” Hunter peered over her shoulder. It was a favorite piece of hers and one of the reasons she’d held the puzzle back for a special occasion. The artwork depicted a Parisian street just after a rain shower. There was a bicyclist on his way somewhere, two old-fashioned cars parked on the curb, and an expanse of gorgeous French buildings complete with window box flowers of all different colors. At the end of the street, the Eiffel Tower could be seen peeking out from behind a building. But probably Hunter’s favorite part was the two-story street lanterns that brought the whole scene together. It was a breathtaking painting.

  “All right,” she said to Sam. “There’ll be time for us to get more acquainted with the image as we go. First, let’s get some basics out of the way.” Hunter went on to explain to Sam the best strategy for effective puzzle assembly. Creating the outline of the puzzle first, color sorting, and section assembly—all the things that would see them through. “So let’s find our corner pieces and get started.”

  Hunter put on some Beatles music, and the two went to work in companionable silence, grooving to the music here and there. As she worked, Hunter stole occasional glances at Sam, who had a tendency to chew the inside of her cheek when she concentrated, making it hard for Hunter to turn away. But somehow she did. She also worked extra hard at ignoring the way Sam’s slim-fitting green T-shirt hugged her curves and dipped a tad in the front. That part was hard, because the skin there was smooth and probably soft, but she refocused because the mission in front of them was an important one and worthy of her attention. It wasn’t long before Hunter’s experience showed and her section took noticeable shape over Sam’s.

  As the music transitioned to “Eleanor Rigby,” Samantha surveyed the workspace and straightened with a sigh. “This isn’t at all fair. You’re a visual person. It’s what you do for a living. I’m cerebral.”

  “We need cerebral on jigsaw puzzles. Trust me. And we’re not in competition, champ. We’re on the same team.”

  Sam brightened. It was cute. Really cute. “You’re right. I forgot that part. More wine?”

  Hunter glanced at her mostly full glass. “I’m good.” The outline of the puzzle was close to assembled, and they’d been at it for just over an hour. Sam came around the island with a refreshed glass of Pinot Grigio and studied their progress.

  “So once our frame is in place, what’s next?”

  “How about you start work on the café tables at the bottom left and I’ll start assembling the top of the apartment building at the top right?”

  “I think that’s an excellent decision.”

  “Well, your faith in me speaks volumes.” Hunter’s phone buzzed from its spot
on the counter. She ignored it, focusing on gathering pieces of the brown building and green shutters. Samantha glanced down at it.

  “Someone named ‘Misty from Club’ wants to know what you’re up to.”

  Hunter continued to sort pieces. “Does she?”

  “Shall I tell her you’re assembling Paris and to try back later? Or do you want to take a few minutes and talk to her?”

  “I find that if I’m busy, it’s best to just not answer.”

  Samantha tilted her head as she came back around to her side of the puzzle. She seemed thoughtful as she began to sort pieces of her own. “So you name them after what? Where you met them?”

  It was embarrassing, Sam seeing that text and the label it that came in with. She straightened, feeling the need to explain. “It was something I started doing when I was younger. I exchanged numbers with more girls than I should have—”

  “Because you never want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I’ve met you. You’ve always been that way and then you wind up with more women following you around than you know what to do with. You should be more up front if you’re not interested.”

  Hunter shrugged. “I just don’t like upsetting anyone. But then the girls who asked for my number would inevitably call, and I’d have no clue who they were. Hence, labeling the number in advance.”

  “Hence, indeed.” Sam passed her a look. “Your feelings matter, too, you know.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a work in progress, what can I say? Pass me that piece with a sliver of green on the side.”

  Sam handed her the puzzle piece. “I’m terrified of what the readout says when I call you.”

  Hunter laughed. “My lips are sealed.”

  “Favorite roommate?” Sam asked.

  “Again, I simply can’t say.”

  “I could just call it right now, you know.”

  Hunter grinned. “But that would ruin the fun.”

  They went back to work. Hunter enjoyed working alongside Samantha, watching her get frustrated when she couldn’t find the piece she needed and then celebrate when she finally did. And Sam was a toucher; always had been. It spoke to her warmth. Every so often, she’d place a hand on Hunter’s back as they talked, or she’d trail her fingers briefly across Hunter’s forearm when she made a point. She probably didn’t notice it herself, but it was thrilling. Hunter studied Sam as she concentrated. She’d pulled her hair back halfway through the night to keep it from getting in the way of her work, leaving her slender neck visible. It looked…edible.

  “Why do you think my chair doesn’t resemble the painting on the cover of the box?”

  Hunter glanced at her work. “Hmm. Because the leg is wrong. You’ve jammed the leg from one of the other tables onto this one. Geez, you were determined to make that work, weren’t you?”

  Sam laughed helplessly. “I figured it was close enough.”

  Hunter stared at her. “Shock! Horror! What if Pinkberry put the toppings on someone else’s yogurt because it was close enough to yours?”

  “Now you’re just being dramatic. Look at you. You have dramatic face.”

  Totally true, so she milked it even more. “Poor little puzzle piece didn’t deserve to be manhandled.”

  Sam pointed at her. “You’re a mean person, preying upon my well-known tendency to assign feelings to inanimate objects.”

  “I think you broke its little heart,” Hunter said, staring sadly at the puzzle piece. But they were both laughing now, and Sam playfully nudged Hunter’s shoulder with her own.

  “This is fun, you torturing me, me learning how to properly work a puzzle.” Sam turned more fully to Hunter as her laughter melted into a sincere smile. “You’re fun. This, I have to admit, was a genius idea.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “Can you imagine if I’d just advertised blindly for a new roommate? There’d be no sought-after lesbian or her staring-obsessed dog living in my loft with me. And I’d never have gotten to work this really awesome puzzle.”

  “And I’d still be thinking of unloading the dishwasher as just a mundane activity.”

  “Or that,” Sam said, finding Hunter’s eyes.

  Because of puzzle-assembling necessity, they were standing rather close to each other. Extra close, Hunter noted. And Samantha’s gaze had dropped to her mouth, where it now lingered. God, Hunter wanted to reach out and touch her cheek, pull her in. She felt that tug all over. To act, to take what she craved. The moment had shifted from playful, and now the air around them felt quite heavy, electric even.

  “How are we right back here?” Samantha asked quietly. But she hadn’t exactly moved away. If anything, she felt closer.

  “I don’t know,” Hunter murmured. “There’s this thing that…”

  “That what?”

  “That makes me want to be near you, to touch you, to kiss you like I did the other night. Bottom line, I think I’m really attracted to you.” She wasn’t sure why she was showing her cards, maybe because she’d tried the aversion tactics and they hadn’t worked. However, there was one thing she knew for certain. Ever since she’d confessed her long-ago feelings for Sam, it was as if she’d unlatched some sort of Pandora’s box of thoughts and events that she could no more undo than she could step away from Sam right now. But the one thing that had her on hyperalert, that snagged her attention above all else, was that Samantha was looking at her with the exact same longing.

  “Me, too,” Sam said, just barely above a whisper. “And I don’t even know when that happened. I think maybe I’m in rebound mode.”

  Hunter assessed the situation, never taking her eyes off Sam. “So. Two people who are attracted to each other. A lot.”

  “It’s probably something we should deal with,” Sam said.

  “There are a lot of ways to do that.”

  “Some more tempting than others.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Hunter touched the very cheek she’d thought of touching just moments before. Samantha’s skin was soft, warm, and those green eyes with the gold flecks held steady to hers. What was so wrong with two consenting adults…consenting? Her heart was beating out of her chest as she remembered the way Sam’s mouth had felt, slanted over hers, all hungry and amazing. For the first time, she wasn’t sure what move to make. She didn’t have to decide. Samantha, in an unexpected turn, went up on her toes and slowly slid her hands against Hunter’s cheeks and then into her hair as she brought her lips to just within millimeters of Hunter’s. But then she paused there, face-to-face, in a delay that was so purposeful it was intoxicating.

  “What are you up to right now?” Hunter asked.

  “No good,” Sam answered. There was no denying who was in control of this exchange. Finally, Sam inclined her head and pressed her lips to Hunter’s in a move that had Hunter dizzy and breathless and wanting so much more. The door to the loft slid open behind them and without hesitation Sam pulled her lips from Hunter and transitioned the kiss into a hug with lightning-fast agility, just in time for Brooklyn to fly into the space.

  “You are amazing,” Sam said loudly as she squeezed Hunter to her, clearly in play-it-off, we’re-just-two-friends-minding-our-own-business mode. “Who knew you were so good at puzzles?” Hunter plastered a smile on her face, but no cognizant thought seemed to come. They turned to Brooklyn, Samantha looking about as casual as casual could be and Hunter struggling desperately to keep up. Try to be a person, she told herself. Try to be a person.

  “Sammie,” Brooklyn said, her eyes wide with regret. “I am so sorry. Exponentially. You have no idea.”

  “It’s fine,” Samantha answered quickly, but there was a distance in her voice as she went back to assembling her outdoor café. “We were just working a puzzle.”

  “It’s not fine,” Brooklyn said, tears now brimming. “I’m this horrible friend who thought today was Tuesday and when I saw your text and remembered it wasn’t, I just grabbed my bag and raced back. But it’s too late. The night’s ruined.” She dropped onto the couch and the tear
s fell uninhibited.

  Samantha didn’t know what to do here.

  She looked to Hunter, who shrugged worriedly back at her. True, Sam’s feelings had been hurt at being stood up, but Brooklyn wasn’t a crier, and the fact that she now sat on the couch in shambles was a red flag if Samantha had ever seen one. Pushing her own feelings aside, she moved to the couch and sat, putting her arm around her friend. “Brooks, really it’s okay. You forgot. It happens.”

  Hunter sat in the chair next to the couch and placed a hand on Brooklyn’s knee. “Is something else going on?”

  Brooklyn wiped the tears from her eyes but more just fell in their place. “I’m just screwing everything up. I’ve been a horrible friend to you. I can’t seem to think of Jessica’s place as ours. I don’t know my away around the Village well enough, and the Foster account was my baby. That loss is on me. No one else.” She took a shuddering breath, seeking a composure that didn’t come. “I’m screwing everything up.”

  Sam opened her mouth to speak, to tell Brooklyn not to worry, but Hunter beat her to the punch. “Are you ready to hear the truth?”

  Brooklyn blinked back at her, sobering. “Yeah.”

  “Your world feels upside down right now and you feel a little out of control. Am I close?”

  “Uh-huh.” Brooklyn had the adorable child thing down pat.

  “And that makes perfect sense because you took a big leap moving in with Jess. Does she make you happy?”

  The smile was on Brooklyn’s face instantaneously. “You have no idea.”

  “Then it’s time for you to make the Village your bitch. Learn its nooks and crannies. Find a favorite coffee spot. Pinpoint the best bench to sit and stare. Because you love to brainstorm.”