by Amelia Stone
“I don’t know if that was their first kiss,” Sabine said. “But I doubt it’ll be the last.”
Yeah, I so did not want to have this conversation right now. I busied myself by sticking my hand in the air, signaling to our server that we needed another round. When I looked back at the table, everyone was staring at me expectantly. Sabine looked smug, Hannah’s face was bathed in shock (or maybe horror), and Celia was practically vibrating with excitement, like she was waiting for me to spill the dirty details. Or waiting for Hannah to deck me. I knew Celia too well to doubt which outcome she’d prefer.
“We don’t have a garden hose,” I finally replied, lamely. So, so lamely. “We live in an apartment.”
Sabine rolled her eyes again. “Figure of speech, babe.”
I ignored her, watching as the server set a fresh drink in front of me, then moved around the table to top off Celia’s water.
“Hello!” Hannah waved her hands to get my attention. “Let’s get back to the part where you were making out with Sam.” Her eyes were practically bugging out of her head.
I bit my lip. “Um. Define making out.”
“I’d define it as your lips being superglued to his.” Sabine’s tone was dry as she took a sip of her margarita. “Which they were,” she added helpfully.
Celia threw her head back and whooped. “Jesus. Finally! I have been waiting since fucking middle school for you two to get your heads out of your asses.”
I threw her a frown. “I have not had my head in my ass, thank you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe you didn’t. But Sam sure as hell did.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?” Sam did not have feelings for me back then. And as far as they knew, I didn’t have feelings for him, either.
“Please. Sam has been ass over tits in love with you for like, ever.”
I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. But she ignored me, frowning down at her water like it had betrayed her. She threw Hannah’s IPA a longing look, but Hannah slapped her hand.
“Sam was not in love with me.” I shook my head firmly. There was no freaking way.
Celia’s eyes darkened as she scowled at Hannah. She looked almost murderous as she continued. “Sure he was. He just never made a move. Or he was suppressing his feelings.”
I shook my head again, unable to answer. No way. Absolutely no way was Sam in love with me. My brain refused to even accept the possibility.
Hannah snorted, ignoring my not-so-minor freak out. “More like Adriana was suppressing them.”
Sabine made a face. “Ugh. I hated her.”
I frowned. “Why do you say that?” I managed to say. I was more than willing to seize on a new topic, and this was one I could actually get behind. I mean, I didn’t like Adriana much. She got to be with the man I loved for six freaking years, and she looked better than I did while doing it. But hate is such a strong word, and I never used it unless I really meant it.
Okay, I hated her. I really hated her. Can you blame me? She. Got. To. Be. With. Sam.
Hannah wrinkled her nose. “I forgot you never actually met her. You were in Wisconsin that one time she came with him to visit over Christmas, right?”
I nodded. I’d eagerly seized the opportunity to see the Christmas Day game at Lambeau Field a few years ago. I couldn’t bear the thought of having to meet the woman who got to be with Sam, having to make nice with her. No fucking thank you.
Hannah took a sip of her beer. “We were taking bets on who was going to kill her first.”
“I had my money on Gran,” Sabine said, laughing. “Miss Priss actually insulted her toffee pudding. Said it was too fattening and not flavorful enough.”
My mouth dropped open in horror. “No!” I gasped. Gran Whitfield’s toffee pudding was legendary. Just about everyone who tasted it had an immediate foodgasm. It was that good.
The two cousins nodded in unison. “I thought Gran was gonna launch her old ass across the table and throttle her,” Sabine replied.
I shook my head. “But I thought you liked her?” I asked Hannah. “You seemed upset the other day when he told us they’d broken up.”
She shook her head. “I was trying to be supportive, you know? Be there for my brother and all that shit.” She took a long pull of her beer, setting the bottle down on the table with a clunk. “I’ve never liked her. I just didn’t want to let him know that.”
“So you lied to Sam?” I asked, my eyebrows raised. Hannah and Sam had a famously honest relationship. She’d told her brother about her first period before she’d even told her mom, for Pete’s sake.
“Lie is such an ugly word.” Hannah shrugged. “Call it more of a kindness between siblings.”
“Well, I just hated her because Sam stopped talking to me for no damn reason,” Celia put in. “You had to know that was her doing.”
“Which was so stupid,” Hannah said. “Hello, you have a husband!”
“No shit,” Celia replied. “One male is enough for me. Props to those polygamy chicks, but that drama ain’t for me.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, fine, so no one liked Adriana.”
“Nope,” Hannah said, drawing out the ‘p’ sound like a raspberry. We all giggled, already a little drunk. Well, Celia wasn’t drinking the hard stuff. But she was happy to be “away from the demons for five fucking minutes,” as she’d put it earlier. She was as giddy as the rest of us.
“But you and Sam?” Sabine grinned at me, her tongue ring winking. “Now that I can get behind.”
“Amen,” Celia said, and Hannah nodded fervently.
I frowned, looking at my empty glass. I needed another drink, ASAP. “I don’t know.”
“Why?” Hannah asked. “I mean, you guys have known each other forever. You’re already friends. And you’ve wanted this for years, Jamy.”
I looked up at that, my eyes wide. “I never said that.”
I’d only ever told one person about my crush on Sam, and I was pretty sure he’d never tell anyone. Mostly because he almost never talked like, at all. Also, I’m pretty sure that spilling your guts to someone when you’re drunk is covered under some sort of unwritten confidentiality clause. It’s like doctor/patient privilege, only with more alcohol.
“You didn’t have to.” Hannah threw me a pitying look. “We all guessed.”
I looked around the table, my mouth hanging open in horror. “All of you?” They all nodded, and I swallowed hard. If they’d figured it out, it stood to reason that Sam had, too.
Oh, God.
“So what gives?” Sabine asked. “It’s perfect. You guys would be perfect together.”
“Perfect squared,” Hannah giggled.
I looked away, staring at the neon lights above the bar until I felt dizzy. Or maybe it was the alcohol making my head spin.
Or maybe it was thinking about Sam. That usually made me dizzy all on its own.
“I don’t know. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why the hell not?” Hannah demanded, her voice a little too loud. She was on her fourth beer now, and it was showing. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were too bright. I probably looked no better, though. I’d already had three Malibu and Cokes, and the bartender was not skimping on the rum tonight.
“Because she’s scared.” Celia answered Hannah’s question, but her eyes were narrowed at me.
“Of Sam?” Hannah looked hurt. “But he’s the best.”
“I know that,” I said quickly. I’d known Sam was the best since I was in elementary school, before I’d even outgrown the boys-are-icky stage.
“Then what’s there to be scared of?” she shot back.
Celia shook her head. “She’s scared of herself.”
Hannah hummed like that made sense, and Sabine nodded sagely. I bit my lip. They were right, and I hated that I was so transparent to everyone.
Celia scowled at me. “Listen girl, I know you have a whole backlog of issues. But you can’t let that hold you bac
k.”
My laugh was brittle, and my eyes welled up. “Yeah, that’s just what my therapist says.” I’d started bi-weekly counseling sessions a couple of years ago, when I grew tired of letting my “issues,” as Celia put it, rule my life. I’d made a lot of progress, but obviously, I wasn’t all the way there yet. I still struggled with a lot of things – my self-esteem being front and center, especially lately. It was hard for me to believe that I deserved much of anything, let alone a great guy like Sam.
“Newsflash!” Celia leaned forward, resting a hand on her bump. Since this was her third kid, her belly had popped out pretty much immediately, making her look much farther along than her four months. “Your therapist is right. Nobody is perfect. But we all deserve love.”
“Preach!” Sabine shouted and threw her hands in the air, earning a wolf whistle from the table next to us.
I shook my head, the words spilling out of me before I could stop them. “But I don’t really think it’s fair to him. He doesn’t need to be saddled with all my problems. We could never have a healthy relationship. I’d constantly be waiting for him to get tired of me and leave. Or I’d drive him nuts with all my compulsions. Who would want to be with someone who needs to clean the obsessively, or has to check that the doors are locked four times, or has an anxiety attack for no damn reason?” I drew in a huge breath, turning away. I was seconds away from bursting into ugly, snotty tears.
“You haven’t driven me away yet,” Sabine pointed out, her tone gentle. “We’ve been roommates for a long time, and I still love you.”
I shook my head. “It’s not the same.”
“But it is.” Hannah frowned. “Friends or lovers, it’s the same. That’s exactly what a relationship is. You support each other, for better or for worse. You pick up each other’s slack.” She took another sip of her beer. “For instance, Brian is more laid back, so he balances out my crazy.”
Celia nodded. “Like me and Todd. He knows I hate housework, so we compromised and hired a housekeeper.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Not exactly what I meant, Cee.”
Celia waved a hand dismissively. “Same difference. Plus, unlike with a roommate, you get to have wild monkey sex with Sam.” She wiggled her eyebrows comically, and a shaky laugh escaped me.
But still, I shook my head. “I doubt he even wants that.”
Sabine leaned forward, grinning wolfishly. “Then you’re not paying attention. I’m pretty sure you guys would have fucked against the front door if I hadn’t interrupted you.”
I bit my lip and clenched my thighs. I didn’t want to admit it out loud, but that had been the single hottest thing I’d ever done. One kiss with Sam was better than all the lackluster sex I’d had in my entire life. I’d been seconds away from wrapping my legs around him and dry humping him to orgasm.
“La la la.” Hannah stuck her hands over her ears. “Not okay with the idea of my brother as a sex stud.”
“Eh, everyone is a sexual being,” Sabine argued. “It’s what makes us human.”
“Plus, it’s Sam.” Celia laughed. “I mean, I’m not usually into gingers. But I’d tap that.”
“You’re married,” I snapped.
She raised an eyebrow. “Down, kitty. I am completely happy with my own gringo.” Her dark eyes twinkled. “But I think it’s interesting that you’re so territorial.”
Before I could reply, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and cursed under her breath.
“Todd,” she explained. “Probably can’t find the baby shampoo. Like it isn’t in a big pink bottle right in front of his fucking face.” She heaved herself out of her seat, rubbing her lower back. Then she muttered about how much she hated being pregnant as she trudged outside the bar to answer her phone.
Sabine, Hannah and I looked at each other, raising our eyebrows. Celia was always a little abrasive, but that seemed extra harsh. I almost wondered if she and Todd having problems. Or it could be, as Hannah and I had discussed the other day, that she was just extra crabby because of the pregnancy. I don’t know that I’d be super cheerful if I had two toddlers running around my house, with a third kid on the way.
Hannah shook her head, like she was dismissing thoughts of Todd and Celia. “Seriously, though.” She leaned forward, shouting over the noise from the rowdy guys at the next table. “You should go for it with Sam.”
I bit my lip. “But what if it doesn’t work out?” I’d wanted him for so long. It would break my heart if we finally got together, only to break up. I didn’t know if I could come back from that.
Sabine shook her head. “You can’t let your fear keep you from trying. Sure, it could end in flames. But there’s also a chance that you guys will have that forever love. The shit people dream about.”
“I dunno. Maybe.” I wanted to try. I wanted to be with Sam so freaking badly. But I was terrified, my mind stuck in an endless loop of all the things that could go wrong. Ugh. Sometimes I wished I could turn my brain off, that I could silence the constant stream of intrusive thoughts and just fucking breathe.
I sighed. Alcohol helped mute the anxiety, even if it was only temporary. I looked around for our server, but I couldn’t spot her. I did, however, see a familiar-looking guy sitting at the bar. Glasses, crisply parted dark hair, and a bow tie. He kept glancing at the door, like he was waiting for someone. I blinked a few times, trying to think of his name. I licked my dry lips. Obviously I couldn’t place him because I was too drunk. Or not drunk enough.
“I need another drink,” I announced.
“Fine. We’ll get completely smashed,” Hannah said, her eyes twinkling. “What could possibly go wrong?”
I rolled my eyes. “I dunno. You once got drunk and ended up with a fiancé.”
“Yeah, years later. After he was done being stupid. Kind of like you,” she replied, sticking her tongue out.
I opened my mouth to retort, but I was interrupted by Celia’s return to the table. She grabbed her purse, looking around at us with an uncharacteristically apologetic look. “I gotta go. Marietta’s running a fever. Todd says she screams every time he tries to put her down.”
“Oh, poor baby!” I frowned.
She shook her head, looking worried. “She just keeps getting these ear infections. The doctor said she might need tubes put in.”
“That’s not good.” Hannah looked a little queasy, and I wondered if she was worried about something similar happening with her future children. Hell, I was freaking out, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted kids.
Celia nodded, then inclined her head toward the door. “Do you want me to take you all home now?” She was our designated driver, since she couldn’t drink.
Hannah shook her head. “Don’t worry about us. I’ll just call Brian. He was gonna work on some things around the house tonight, so he won’t be drinking. He should be fine to drive.”
“You sure?” Celia looked concerned, but we could all tell she just wanted to get home to her sick kiddo.
Sabine waved her on. “Go. We’ll be fine. We’ll stay and have a few more, and B will come to our rescue.”
I nodded. “Worse comes to worst, we can take a cab or something.”
Celia looked relieved. “Okay, I’m out,” she said, rubbing her belly. “Be good.” She pointed at each of us in turn. “And you,” she added, narrowing her eyes at me. “Give it a chance. You deserve the best, and don’t let your asshole brain chemistry tell you otherwise.”
I snorted. “Okay, mom.”
The server came by just as Celia was leaving, setting another round of drinks on the table. I reached for my glass eagerly. My mind was a soup of anxiety and doubt and just plain old fear. I didn’t want to feel any of it. I didn’t want to think any more tonight.
I looked up to see Hannah texting furiously, a frown on her face. “Is Brian gonna be able to take us home?” I asked.
She looked up. “Um, yeah. I got us a ride.” Her expression was strange, like there was something she wasn’t telling me.
But I didn’t want to ask. That violated my new “no thinking” rule. I wanted to forget all my problems, even if just for one night.
Surely I deserved at least that much?
The alarm on my phone blared like an air raid siren from somewhere way too close to my right ear, and I groaned.
I had a feeling it shouldn’t even be going off. It was… Saturday? No, not Saturday. Sunday? I thought for a minute, though it was really hard. I felt like my thoughts were fighting against a current. Swimming through the ocean. Off the coast of Malibu. Malibu… rum? My stomach gave a dangerous gurgle.
Oh, God. I was hungover. How many rum and Cokes had I had last night? I tried to think, but thinking hurt.
Speaking of hurting, the alarm was still so fucking loud. I was pretty sure it was actually inside my ear canal.
No, that’s ridiculous, I thought. It’s probably on that… that thing that’s next to the bed. That table thingy. I stretched my arm out, blindly trying to turn the alarm off without opening my eyes. I lifted my face a few inches off the pillow so I could reach better, and my head split open. I groaned in pain, still fumbling with the phone. The crack in my skull widened to Oh-God-I’m-gonna-die proportions. Finally, I managed to silence the alarm.
Friday. It was Friday. I’d taken the day off. Must’ve forgotten to turn the alarm off. Because I hated myself, obviously.
Gingerly, I felt my head. Not actually split open. That was nice. Less mess to clean up.
I groaned again and rolled over, trying to ignore the way my stomach rolled in the opposite direction. I breathed deeply until the nausea passed. Then I snuggled under the covers, moaning in appreciation when I hit something warm and soft. It felt like… skin?
Wait, what?
I cracked one eye open. My vision was blurry, which told me I must have fallen asleep with my contacts in. I grunted, squinting until I could make out a naked back. A man’s naked back. It was leanly muscled and covered in freckles and ended in a mop of unruly, dark red hair.
