Just Three Words

by Melissa Brayden

  “You’re adorable when you call me that. Kiss me.” Hunter said, a smile taking over her whole face as she leaned in.

  It was the easiest request in the world and Sam met her in the middle and fixed her mouth to Hunter’s in a sizzling exchange that left her warm all over. “Shall we?”

  They slipped into a small table set back from the stage and listened as a singer-songwriter emoted about his castrating ex-girlfriend and her cat, clearly a cathartic experience for the guy, if unfortunate for the audience. The next girl was actually really good, very new age but with a Joplin edge mixed in.

  Feeling uncharacteristically bold, Samantha snuck a hand onto Hunter’s leg under the table. “So are you going to serenade me next?” Sam said in her ear.

  Hunter stared at her, eyes wide. “You realize my biggest fear in life is being onstage in any capacity, and that if I were to do that, I would probably combust on the spot.”

  “So a no on the serenade? My little heart is breaking.”

  “Don’t say that. I don’t want to hear you say that.”

  Sam shrugged. “Can’t help it.”

  “Are you serious right now? Because you know I have a weak spot when it comes to you.”

  “So serious. Look.” She wasn’t at all, but pointed to her face anyway in the spirit of the fun little exchange they were having. But the fact that Hunter stood from the table and approached the gentleman just to the side of the stage had her floored. Whoa. Because wait a sec—there was no way Hunter would actually go through with this, and Sam had only been joking when she’d suggested it.

  But a few moments later, when Hunter took the stage with a borrowed guitar, Sam found her heart in her throat with guilt, and terror on Hunter’s behalf.

  “I’ve never done this in public before,” Hunter said into a microphone. “So I’m hoping you’ll indulge me.” The crowd at the bar offered an encouraging round of applause before Hunter continued. “There’s a girl out there tonight who once told me she thought she’d been born into the wrong era. So for her, I’m going to sing a little Frank Sinatra.”

  Hunter turned to her guitar and played the first recognizable notes from “The Way You Look Tonight,” and Sam felt her insides melt. Her rendition of one of the most romantic songs in history was simplistically beautiful. Hunter had slowed it down a tad and given the song unique touches here and there, but it was breathtaking. She spent most of it with her eyes on the guitar, but the few times she did glance up, she held Samantha’s eyes as she sang. God, she was like the craziest summer storm. All wild and unpredictable, but also soothing and calm and tender. Samantha didn’t think she’d ever get used to all the facets. When Hunter came to the last line of the song, the place erupted into applause and whistles and shouts. She was a hit.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” Sam said, standing and holding her arms open for Hunter, who came easily into them at their table.

  “I’m the one who can’t believe I did that. I’m still shaking.”

  Samantha took Hunter’s hands in hers and kissed them, holding them against her chest. “That was easily the coolest thing that anyone has ever done for me, and you were so good, Hunter. It was beautiful.”

  Hunter had never experienced this kind of nerve-induced euphoria. But for the first time ever, she’d felt enough courage to push herself up on that stage and knew exactly who that motivation had come from…and she was wearing the most picturesque yellow sundress.

  A couple of patrons on the way out of the bar stopped to pat Hunter on the back and to tell her they’d enjoyed the song.

  Seriously?

  Was this happening?

  She was still reeling from the experience when they spilled out onto the sidewalk. She felt like running, or dancing, or better yet…She turned to Sam. “We need ice cream.”

  “Ice cream is the perfect celebration of the magic that just happened back there! And I’m buying. It’s the least I can do for my song. What made you think of that one?”

  “You did. You make me think of a lot of things. Inspire them, actually,” Hunter leaned in and stole a kiss.

  Samantha shook her head, sobering a little. “Wow. You have a way of saying the most important things sometimes.”

  “It’s all true.”

  Sam entwined her fingers with Hunter’s in front of her. “No matter what happens to us over the next seventy years, I will always have tonight to think back on. Because it feels kind of perfect, standing under this lamppost with you.” And then she smiled that most beautiful Samantha smile, the one that always caused Hunter’s chest to tighten. “Tonight will always be ours.”

  Hunter glanced up at the lamppost, then back at the girl in the killer dress. “This is an important lamppost.”

  Samantha laughed. “The most important.”

  “I’ve never had a favorite lamppost before. I feel so grown up.”

  “You are.” Samantha tugged Hunter’s arm. “C’mon. Places to walk. Things to eat.”

  After obtaining their ice cream—toffee nut for Hunter and chocolate and peanut butter for Sam—they took the long way home, snagging an extra block here or there as they talked about anything and everything, not ready for it to be over just yet.

  “So you actually hated high school,” Hunter stated, struggling to understand. “You seem like the type who would have relished every moment of it. You’re so spirited. Football games seem destined to be right up your alley.”

  “They would have been, but I was so removed from the social scene. So in a sense, I get why maybe your brother is going through some stuff. High school is a difficult time. It’s hard to find your place.”

  Hunter nodded. “I sent him a couple of texts when I got home from Ohio. He only answered one of them and used as few letters as possible.”

  “Well, that’s something. And don’t stop. Keep reaching out to him even if he doesn’t reach back.”

  It made sense, and she would take Sam’s advice. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “There’s a part of me that was, I don’t know, happy that my dad showed interest in my life. And I’m so pissed off at myself for feeling that way. Because how weak is that?”

  Samantha studied her as they walked. “It’s not weak at all. He’s your dad. No matter what’s passed between the two of you, you’ll always be family.”

  “I just wish he didn’t have the power to get to me.”

  “I know, but you’re a human being, Hunter, and you have feelings. What would be weak is if you didn’t.” It was an interesting take on the situation, and it came from an angle Hunter had never really examined. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information, so she tucked it away for later. “Do you know what else is weak?” Sam asked.

  “What is that?”

  “When there’s ice cream on your face.”

  Hunter balked. “There is not ice cream on my face.”

  “Um, there is, too.” Sam laughed. “But because I’m benevolent and always looking to further the greater good, I’ll take care of it for you.” And with that, she went up onto her tiptoes and gently kissed the small amount of ice cream from the corner of Hunter’s mouth, using her tongue ever so lightly to aid in her endeavor. Hunter took in the sweet scent of Sam’s shampoo, the softness of her lips. Lust curled slowly in her abdomen, gaining power with each tenth of a second. It was time for talking to be over. “What’s that look?” Sam asked her.

  “I think it’s time we go home. Now.”

  Something came into Samantha’s eyes that told her she knew exactly where Hunter’s mind had gone and that she was right there with her. The temperature on that street corner seemed to heat up then and there.

  “Lead the way.”

  *

  That following Monday, Ashton arrived on the scene for her hour-long orientation at the Savvy office and brought with her the energy of a hundred eager squirrels. With her strawberry-blond hair woven into a complicated braid and about a million brac
elets decorating her teenage arm, she carried a fresh-faced, youthful vibe. She’d been beyond excited for the opportunity to work at Savvy when Brooklyn had presented it, and since arriving in the office, had thanked each of them at least a half a dozen times. Her enthusiasm was palpable, and that was a good thing.

  “And this is generally where Hunter works,” Sam said to Ashton as they approached her desk. Hunter was sketching this morning, which was part of her brainstorming process when starting a new project. “But she sometimes prefers countertops and the arms of furniture, so just ignore her and let her do her Hunter thing. Like Brooklyn, she often stares into space. It just means she’s creating.”

  “Cool,” Ashton said, and accepted a high five from Hunter. “So you know Photoshop pretty well?”

  “It’s my life’s work.”

  Ashton beamed like Hunter invented the sun. “Maybe you can show me a trick or two someday?”

  “I mean, if you bring me coffee.”

  “I will totally do that,” the kid said, smiling.

  “She’s kidding,” Sam whispered, shooting Hunter a chastising look. “You don’t have to bring us gifts. Cash is cool, though.”

  Hunter shook her head in amusement and turned back to her sketchpad as Sam continued the tour of the office. She was just about finished with the secondary shading when her phone buzzed from its spot on her desk. Aha, an incoming text from Mallory, who was offsite at a meeting with Serenity.

  Lunch today?

  Hunter smiled. It was a thing they did on occasion to check in with each other. While she valued the individual bond she had with each of her friends, the friendship she had with Mallory was exceptional for its sheer unlikelihood. The two of them couldn’t be more different. Mallory, of the ultra-uptight, and Hunter, of the go-with-the-flow, balanced each other out surprisingly well. And their one-on-one time was never short of valuable. A good centering activity, which maybe she needed.

  She ruminated on the events of her life. Things between her and Sam had picked up steam this past week and that had her feeling unsteady, almost as if she were standing atop a very tall pillar, perched to fall at any moment. And you know, maybe she could use a little Mallory balance in her life about now. She fired off a reply.

  You’re on. Mooncake’s at noon.

  *

  That afternoon, Samantha flipped her sunglasses onto her face from where they perched on her head. It was hot out. July had arrived and was making sure everyone knew it. She and Brooklyn sat at a table at Soho Square Park not far from the office. Hunter and Mallory were doing one of their monthly lunches, and that was good. It gave her and Brooklyn a chance to hang out. They picked up their favorite, cheeseburgers and fries, and watched as the world passed by them in the small park.

  Samantha gestured with her chin to a guy whizzing past on Rollerblades. “You think he woke up and thought, ‘totally wearing pink biker shorts today.’”

  Brooklyn popped a fry and nodded. “Yep. And was thrilled with his declaration.”

  “He high-fived his mirror.”

  “And moonwalked away from it.”

  Sam shrugged. “Well, it’s what you do in the morning.”

  “Objectively. I did it twice.”

  “How’s your life, Brooklyn Campbell?” Samantha sat back and awaited her best friend’s response. She’d had a lot of life changes lately: a fairly new relationship with Jessica, the move, and then there had been reconnecting with her birth family not quite a year ago. It’d be enough to rattle anyone.

  “A little overwhelming, if I’m being honest.”

  “And I want you to be. Lying takes too much time.” To better see Brooklyn’s face, Sam took off the sunglasses she’d put on just moments ago, because this conversation was important. Brooklyn was important.

  “But overwhelming in a good way,” Brooklyn said. “I talk to Cynthia—sorry. I talk to my mom probably once a week. Still getting used to calling her that. It’s nice, though. My sister is going to come to the city for the weekend at the end of the month. That should be fun. I need a list of things to do with teenagers.”

  “Pshhh. Just ask Ashton.”

  Brooklyn lit up. “Good point.”

  “And Jessica? How is she?”

  The lazy smile that took over Brooklyn’s face spoke volumes. “She’s working way less. We’re cooking together, sitting on the balcony over the Hudson when it gets dark and discussing our days. It’s like we just fit. I can’t explain it.”

  But Samantha could. “You’re home now.”

  Brooklyn glanced down at the table. The emotion of that statement seemed to really resonate with her and she took a moment before answering. She’d spent most of her life without any sort of anchor or consistency. Because she’d been bounced around in the foster care system, she’d never really had a family. Her eyes glistened when she raised her gaze to Samantha. “I think that’s it. I’m finally home.”

  Samantha nodded as a lump formed in her throat. She was happy for Brooklyn, who deserved someone every bit as special as Jessica had turned out to be. In the midst of it, she thought of her own set of circumstances. The heartbreak she’d experienced over Libby, and now these new feelings for Hunter—strong, but still very new and unclassified.

  “What about you?”

  Sam lifted a shoulder. “What about me?”

  “I know the breakup was hard on you. In fact, I’ve never seen you more defeated. But you seem”—Brooklyn shook her head—“I don’t know. Happy again. More than that. Am I wrong?”

  A smile touched Sam’s lips as she reflected on the reason. “You’re not.” She didn’t have all the answers, but a part of her needed to share everything that had happened to her lately with Brooklyn, who was maybe the closest confidante she had. She wasn’t the best at keeping secrets, but just who exactly were they keeping things from at this point? Hunter knew. Mallory knew, albeit on the down low. It was wrong to keep Brooklyn out of the loop, and not only that, but she also wanted to share this new part of her life with her best friend.

  Done.

  Decision made.

  She opened her mouth to dive in.

  “Have you seen her?” Brooklyn asked, cutting off Sam’s progress.

  It took Samantha a moment to follow the curve in the conversation. “Seen who?”

  “Libby. Since the breakup.”

  The name still packed a punch, dimming her spirits a tad. Interesting how that worked, how Libby still affected her. “Actually, yeah. At yoga last week. She showed up with Tanya, out of nowhere. It was awkward, to say the least, but that’s to be expected, I guess.” She blew the hair off her face. “I survived, thanks to Hunter.” A perfect segue.

  Brooklyn tilted her head in confusion. “Back that train up. Stop one. You went to yoga? You hate athletics and anything masquerading as such.”

  “True fact. But my new roommate is extra persuasive.”

  And then a light bulb seemed to go off over Brooklyn’s head and she smiled. “Gotcha. Stop two. Did you happen to encounter an instructor by the name of April?”

  “Are we going to continue this train motif for the whole conversation?”

  “I haven’t decided. I like it. Answer the question.”

  “Um…no. I don’t believe so. Who’s April?”

  “She’s this girl Hunter’s got it bad for. A yoga instructor. I probably shouldn’t spread that around, but I don’t think she’d mind me telling you or Mallory.”

  Interesting tidbit that had a few preliminary alarm bells going off in Samantha’s head. Not a big deal, she cautioned herself. She played absently with her straw. “What do you mean she has it bad for her?”

  Brooklyn sat up a little straighter in excitement. “I mean she’s gone on the girl. We ran into her in the park, April. She seems awesome, and as you can expect from a girl Hunter’s into, she’s way hot. Then a couple of weeks later, the night we were at Showplace, she told me she’s kinda sorta falling for her. In Hunter language, that’s code for so much mo
re. It’s cute, watching her try to figure it out.”

  Samantha took a minute with this because that was just a couple of weeks back. Hunter didn’t just fall for people. Or maybe she did. “Are you sure you understood all of that correctly?”

  “Positive. She was all worked up about it, which is how I know this girl is something major to her.”

  “And her name was April?”

  “April of yoga studio fame. Yeah.”

  The branches above them rustled and the tiny breeze felt good. It was something Sam noticed distantly, however, because she was still trying to make sense of what Brooklyn had just shared. Maybe Brooklyn had just misunderstood.

  As they walked the few blocks back to the office, Samantha couldn’t shake the conversation. Because what if she was the one who had gotten it wrong, not Brooklyn? Hunter was a self-admitted serial dater. She enjoyed the company of a variety of women. That was how she worked. Hell, maybe she told them all what she’d told Samantha. This week, Sam had her attention. A few weeks ago, April. Where would next week take her? God, the thought made her stomach turn with how dumb she’d potentially been. She couldn’t go through this again. Uh-uh. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to fall in love with someone who didn’t love her back. And she was falling.

  She studied the nameless faces of the people they passed on the sidewalk, halves of couples, some married for years and years. Several passersby held hands, probably enjoying New York on holiday. Last Friday, she’d felt like one of them. Like she was worthy. Like she belonged. But, not so fast…

  Always on the outside looking in, she reminded herself.

  That’s you.

  She paused outside the elevator. Numb. Confused. Maybe even a little dizzy, hard to tell.

  “Sammie? You okay?” Brooklyn asked. Concern crisscrossed her face.

  But she wasn’t. She wasn’t okay at all, and maybe she just needed space. From the world. From life. From everything. “I’m not feeling so good all of a sudden. If it’s okay with you, I think I’m going to head home for a bit. Lie down.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  She forced a reassuring smile, which wasn’t easy. “No. I think I just need some time. Tell the others? Maybe put out a do not disturb call to give me time to bounce back.”