Chapter 5 #2
Sam tossed the last of the napkins in the trash. “Then go to bed, old man.”
I laughed. “I mean, yeah, I’m tired, but I don’t really feel like calling it a night yet.”
He arched a brow, leaning against the counter. “Taproom?”
I shrugged. It was my first thought, the familiar default. But honestly? I wouldn’t last twenty minutes before deciding the music was too loud and the drinks weren’t worth it.
And Sam knew that.
Because he knew me.
“You could stay here,” he offered, tilting his head slightly, like it wasn’t a big deal. “We could put on something stupid. Drink another glass of wine. Just hang out. I don’t feel like going back out either.”
I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want to stay. But because I did. And I wasn’t totally sure what to do with that.
I shifted slightly. “Are you… sure?”
He blinked at me. “Yeah,” he said, without missing a beat. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”
I looked at him for a second longer. “Yeah,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "I’m in.”
The second bottle of wine sat uncorked on the coffee table. We didn’t plan to finish it. But somewhere between “just one more glass” and the third time Sam laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes, we stopped keeping track.
He’d flipped on YouTube after ten minutes of channel surfing and indecision, mumbling something about how he didn’t have the brainpower for a movie but needed “a serotonin snack,” and landed on an old video compilation.
“What is it about people falling off hoverboards that’s still funny ten years later?” Sam asked between bursts of laughter.
“Because they always think they’ve got it,” I said, pointing my half-empty glass toward the screen, “until the exact second their spine regrets it.”
He leaned back, laughing at the screen. “This guy’s wearing socks on hardwood. He deserves what’s coming.”
“Oh, for sure.”
Cue the inevitable faceplant, and Sam let out this undignified, full-body wheeze of laughter that had me choking on my wine. I wasn’t even sure what I was laughing at anymore. Probably him, but it didn’t matter.
Everything felt a little looser. Lighter. Like the night had slipped out of its armor and let us do the same.
At some point, I had sunk deeper into the couch, legs stretched out, head tipped against the back cushion. Sam was curled up in the middle, his socked feet tucked beneath him, one resting lightly against the cushion near my thigh. Casual contact. Nothing new. But suddenly I felt the warmth of it.
“Okay,” Sam said, wiping his eyes, “I gotta know. Have you ever been in a viral video?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“A valid one,” he said, eyes gleaming. “You strike me as someone who would’ve made the rounds on social media doing something outrageously stupid in college.”
“I resent that. I am stupid with intention.”
“That is not a denial.”
I paused, sipping my wine dramatically. “Fine. There may be a video of me crowd-surfing at a bar during Pride, wearing a sequined crop top and… minimal other things.”
Sam blinked. “Is this findable?”
“Not unless you know what to type.”
“Challenge accepted.”
I laughed, leaning over to top off his glass. “What about you? Any hidden internet fame I should know about?”
He shook his head, though a little pink flushed his cheeks. “I was a ‘Hot Teacher of the Week’ once on some Reddit thread.”
I nearly dropped my wine. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. My students found it. Printed it. Laminated it.”
“Oh my God.”
“Parent-teacher night was… interesting.”
I howled, tipping my head back and laughing so hard it made my eyes water. “That’s so much worse than a crop top.”
“Tell me about it,” he groaned, but he was smiling too.
The laughter started to slow eventually, replaced by that quiet lull that sneaks in after too much wine and too much fun. The kind that makes your limbs heavy in the best way.
We’d gone from video compilations to old outtakes from blooper reels, half-watching now, the glow from the TV against the walls.
Sam shifted a little, stretching out more fully with a contented sigh. “I don’t think we’ve ever just hung out like this. Just the two of us.”
I glanced over at him. “Yeah… weird, right?”
“Not in a bad way,” he said quickly. “It’s just, usually it’s loud. People everywhere. Callie stealing fries. Jules trying to be everyone’s therapist. You…” He paused, smirking. “You usually have someone’s number in your phone before dessert.”
I gave a dramatic gasp. “That is a gross exaggeration.”
“It’s not untrue.”
I tossed a cushion at him. He dodged it easily, laughing.
“But no,” he said, settling again. “This is nice. You’re good company when you’re not trying to out-snark everyone at the table.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “You’re lucky I’m wine-drunk and too relaxed to fight you on that.”
“Exactly why I waited until now.”
We sat there for a few beats, the banter softening into something quieter.
The TV flickered, casting little flashes of light against the walls. We weren’t really watching anymore. Just existing.
I adjusted my position, sinking further into the cushions. My shoulder brushed the throw pillow near his feet. He didn’t move away. Neither did I.
Everything was loose and warm.
Which made it really fucking easy to fall asleep.
One second, I was laughing at some idiot falling off a treadmill, wine glass resting against my stomach. The next? Out.
Like my body had finally decided to stop pretending, once I felt like I could power down. I was exhausted.
I woke up to darkness.
The TV was off. The room was quiet. And I was wrapped in a blanket.
It took me a second to orient myself, to shake off the slow heaviness of sleep. For a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was. Just a blur of cushions and the quiet hum of silence pressing in. The weight of the blanket was unfamiliar, but I knew what it meant.
Sam.
Of course it was Sam.
It smelled like him, anchoring in a way my brain hadn’t asked for but didn’t reject. Clean laundry and whatever cologne he always wore that somehow managed to smell like cedar and coffee at the same time. Warm. Sexy. Him.
Not that I was thinking about it. Not really.
I blinked a few times, rubbed a hand over my face, already bracing for the inevitable alert-glow of my phone.
3:47 AM.
Too late to do anything. Too early to let my brain act like the day had already started.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes again, glancing toward the hallway. The house was silent. Still.
Not the first time I’d crashed on a friend’s couch.
Not the first time I’d wrapped myself in a blanket that wasn’t mine.
Not the first time I told myself it didn’t mean anything.
I rolled onto my side, squinting at the glow of my phone screen.
Rogue: 3 new messages.
Rogue: You have a new match.
Rogue: “Hey, handsome. Still up?”
I stared at the last one for a second longer. Probably someone hot. Probably someone convenient. Probably someone who’d say all the right things, do all the right things, and disappear right on cue before things got complicated. My usual type.
I sighed and set the phone back down, screen-first against the coffee table. Not tonight.
I stretched slightly, a lazy, unconscious movement. But my brain took it as a green light and immediately went into overdrive.
The Stag & Lantern. Cooler’s still spotty.
If it fails again, we’re screwed. Supplier order’s half-done.
Still haven’t finalized the Saturday staffing schedule.
What was the new guy’s name again? Travis?
Nate? Definitely not a “stick in your memory” kind of name.
But he had a strong jaw, nice arms, and said “dude” too much.
Trivia night. Cancelled. Again. I swear, if I have to host it myself, I’m reading the questions in a pirate voice just to punish everyone.
The tabs opened in my brain, one by one. Just that familiar click-click-click of my internal browser losing its damn mind. Inventory. Payroll. Ice machine. Emails I hadn’t returned. Texts I hadn’t meant to ignore. All of it pressing in. All of it waiting for me to get up and start handling it.
I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand. “Nope,” I declared. “Not doing this now.”
The blanket shifted with me as I turned over. Warm. Heavy. It smelled like cedar. Smelled like Sam.
God. Why did that even register?
It isn’t like that. We are friends. Friends can crash on each other’s couches. Friends can swaddle you in blankets and disappear quietly to their rooms without making it weird.
This wasn’t a thing. It was just a moment.
Still… I pressed into it a little deeper. Not because it meant anything. Just because it was warm. And still. And quiet.
Outside, the world was still.
Inside, the wine-glass ghosts of the night lingered. The kind of night that crept up on you and made things feel simple, like you didn’t have to try so hard.
I shut my eyes. Let the tabs keep spinning. Let the inbox flood. Let the cooler break. I closed the laptop of my brain for the night, not because it was done, but because I was.
They can wait.
Sleep cannot.