Chandler
CHANDLER
S am and I start work at 8 AM in the hotel cafe, sending Ken updates about our newest client, who is still testing out the chat feature with Sam. When we got back to the hotel, things felt different between us, a little more light-hearted than we're used to. I'm not sure if it was the atmosphere of the restaurant or how it felt to pull her close to me when we danced, but I felt something last night. Something that I don't think I've ever felt before. It was like we were the only two in the room. She seems to be into her conversation with Tom. Her eyes remain on her laptop screen, a pleasant smile on her face as she reads another message from the surf shop owner. I wonder if she's telling him about her dry spell.
“Flirting with our client, Sam? Not very professional," I say with a shake of my head. She looks at me, the smile without a waver in her smile, and my heart drums in my chest. That’s been happening every time she looks at me since dinner with my family. At least it went well, with minimal embarrassment on my part. And then there was the way she looked at me when we danced. At first, I only asked her because I didn’t want my grandfather to berate me for not offering, but it was fun.
“Not at all. He's just a funny guy. Asked if it would be weird to add the food he feeds to seagulls to the books.”
“Sounds hilarious," I say dryly.
“Sounds like you’re jealous again.”
“You seem like you really want me to be jealous.”
"You're not saying that you aren’t," she points out. And she's right, I'm not, because I am jealous that she and Tom seem to have a good rapport, something I'm not sure Sam and I have.
My phone rings. When I look at the screen, there’s a message from my sister letting me know where to meet her tonight. When we were leaving the restaurant, she asked if we wanted to go to the bar when we were done with work for the day, and we agreed to go.
Well, Sam said she'd go, and because it's my sister and my co-worker, I feel like I have to be there, at least now I can be sure to put a stop to it if my sister decides to try and tell Sam I’m in love with her again.
“Cheyenne says we can meet her at a place called ‘Waterfalls and Wine’ tonight. It’s in the town I grew up in.”
“Where is that exactly?”
“Water Cape,” I say. It’s been a while since I’ve actually been to my hometown. Every time I think about going back, I get nervous. It’s a small town with one stoplight and more horses than people. It’s not that I don’t miss it, I’m just sure it doesn’t miss me very much. The problem is, I know we’ll see someone I know tonight. In fact, I’d be surprised if I didn’t at least run into at least three people I know. The bar we’re going to is one of the two Water Cape has, and it’s more than likely that I’ll see a few people. This means I’ll have to introduce them to Sam, and I’m not sure how much I like the idea of that because there are things I’ve done in my youth that are less than savory. I’d rather keep that part of me hidden away from everyone I can.
“So, I’d get to see the place that you grew up in?” Her eyes light up with excitement, and I push down the feeling of affection bubbling to the surface.
“Yep. Not that exciting, Sam.”
“Are we still going to your grandfather’s old house?”
I forgot all about that. “Maybe," I say. She tilts her head, looking at me suspiciously.
“Something wrong with it?”
I shrug. I wouldn’t even know if there was. I haven’t been there since I helped move my grandfather's bed to Cheyenne’s. Who knows what it looks like now? Guess we'll find out later.
The bar is bustling when we walk in and see Cheyenne and Derrick sitting at the bar, sipping on beer. They wave us over excitedly, and Sam and I take a seat on the stools next to them.
“Thanks for coming, guys! Derrick and I needed a break from the kids," Cheyenne says.
“Thanks for inviting us,” Sam says.
“What’ll you guys have… Shit! Randall!” And so it begins.
“Hey, John," I say. “Two shots and two tequila sunrises," I say, trying to skip any small talk from the guy I used to smoke joints with in the parking lot after school.
“Got it," he says, and then he looks at Sam, who is talking to Cheyenne and Derrick.
“You leave and come back with a wife?”
I look back at Sam and think for just a split second about agreeing with him, but I don’t .
“Co-worker," I say.
“Oh, so, you aren’t…” He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I shake my head.
“Huh, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“What?” I don’t mean for it to come out threatening, but it does, and John laughs as he pours shots into glasses.
“Calm down, buddy. If you’re into her, I’ll back off.”
“I never said that," I say, my voice gruff.
“Whatever you say, man. Bottoms up!”
He sets the drinks in front of me, and I tap Sam on her shoulder. She turns and looks at me, smiling brightly when I hand her a drink, and my heart thumps loudly in my chest. When she takes a sip, she licks her lips, and I have to look away. Fuck, I want to kiss her again; I want to feel her against me, watch her come undone. I’ve been trying to figure out exactly what I feel for Sam, and it has definitely shifted into something more. I’m attracted to her. I know that much. The memory of our kiss from earlier lingers on my lips, and every inch of me aches to feel her touch again. But it's more than just physical attraction. Even now, as she speaks to my sister about our lunch at the country restaurant in Florida, I can't help but smile.
“And his face was as red as a tomato.” Sam is laughing when she tells the story about embarrassing me on my birthday, and warmth spreads through my chest, listening to her tell it. Even though I'd rather she didn't. Her eyes are sparkling, which makes the smile on her face that much brighter. Is this how she talks about me with her friends? Probably not. Complaining? Sure. But it's hard to picture her talking about me like this with other people. I kind of hope she does.
“He’s never been into birthdays. When he turned 6, we took him to a restaurant, and when they sang Happy Birthday, he hid under the table until it was time to leave. ”
“Oh, poor ,” Sam says and looks at me, her bottom lip jutting out. I have the urge to bite it.
“I just don’t like the attention," I say, and I shift in my seat
“For some reason, that doesn’t surprise me as much as I thought it would,” Sam says.
“I’m full of surprises.” I look at Cheyenne. “Is Gramps watching the kids?”
“Yep! I made dinner and put on a movie, and they were quiet when I left. So far, there are no calls about a house fire.”
“Always good news, "Sam replies.
“How much longer are you guys in town for?”
“About three more days," I say.
“Oh good! Because we may need help with Gramps' house!”
I frown. Help with Gramps' house? “What do you mean? Didn't he move into your house?”
“Well, yes, but…” Cheyenne looks at Derrick, and I can tell she’s nervous.
“But what?” I ask.
“Well," she says and takes a swig of her beer. “He’s selling it.”
“What do you mean he’s selling the house? Why would he do that?” I don’t mean to raise my voice, but the news caught me off guard. Growing up, that house and the people in it were the only things I could count on. When I moved out to Florida, I was hoping I could take some weight off my shoulders and really be myself. Now, all I want is to keep the house that I’d grown up in, some semblance of who I was. Sam, sensing the tension no doubt, stands from her seat.
"I'm going to go use the restroom.” I watch her walk to the bathroom in the back of the bar and turn back to my sister, waiting for an explanation.
“We meant to tell you last week, but when we heard you were coming down, we thought now would be a good time to tell you.”
“How thoughtful," I say, and I don’t hide the bitterness in my tone.
“It isn’t listed yet. It needs a little bit of work, and I know you’re only here for a few more days, but it would mean a lot if you’d help us with it this weekend.”
Un-fucking-believable.
“Cheyenne, you should have told me this sooner! I’m here for a business trip, not for family stuff," I say, my voice harder than intended. Cheyenne frowns, and Derrick clears his throat, clearly not happy with how I’m talking to his wife.
“You know," Derrick says. “You could always buy it if you wanted to.”
Buy it? What is he talking about? I’m never here, and when I am, it’s sporadic. Usually, only when I have time to take off for the holidays or when there’s a family emergency. What would I do with it, anyway?
“For what?”
“I mean, "Derrick taps his finger on the neck of the beer bottle. “You could buy the house so it can stay in the family.”
I narrow my eyes at them. “Why don’t you guys buy it? Or tell Gramps not to sell it.”
“We can’t. We pay for our mortgage and the kid’s school care. Our house is bigger than his, and I think he enjoys living with us so he can see the kids more. Plus, we like where we live.”
“So do I!”
“I know, "Cheyenne says softly. “Let’s just talk about this later. I think John is trying to hit on your girlfriend.”
Ignoring the fact that she called Sam my girlfriend. I turn my head, and sure enough, Sam snuck away during my argument with Cheyenne to get another drink. And fucking John is making her laugh. She's covering her mouth as she laughs at whatever it is he's saying. She does that when she's nervous. She used to do that when she first started at the office, and as she got more comfortable, she stopped. My body goes rigid watching them. Fucking John. I should go over there and kiss her right in front of him while giving him the middle finger. I should walk up to her, wrap my arms around her waist, whisper in her ear to play along, and then get down on one knee and ask her to marry me in front of the entire bar. Well, that thought came out of fucking nowhere. Those options seem terrible, and I think Sam would kick me in the balls if I did that. I just don't like what I'm seeing. I just need to distract him. I holler at him. “Hey, John!" He looks over his shoulder at me, brows tilted upward. Asshole. I lift my half-empty bottle. "Another round?”
I swear he seems confused as to what I’m asking for a minute, even though he works in a goddamn bar.
“Uh, sure thing!” He shouts back and turns back to Sam, saying something to her that I can’t hear. She hides her laugh again and watches him make my drink. When he sets it in front of me, he says, "We cool?”
“I don’t know, John," I say, making sure to maintain eye contact with him. “Are we?”
“She said she’s single," he says and averts his eyes, scratching the back of his neck.
“Yeah," I say. “She is.”
“Right," he says, and there’s an awkward pause. “And well, I think she’s cute, "
“Of course, you think she’s cute. Everyone thinks she’s cute.”
“Listen,” he says. “If you were into her, you would’ve already made a move by now. So, what’s the deal with you guys?”
“We work together.”
“And? ”
“And what?”
“You look like you want to punch my lights out.”
That’s because you’re a big-headed fuck.
“Just…” I glance back over at Sam, who is watching us talk now. “Be nice. Don’t get her hopes up.”
He looks offended. “I’m always nice to women!”
Cheyenne suddenly erupts with laughter, and John narrows his eyes at her.
“What?”
“Sorry! Sorry,” she says, still laughing. “But you dated my friend for 3 months and dumped her because of a hangnail."
“For the last time, it wasn’t over a hangnail!” Cheyenne’s laughter is now coupled with Derricks's over-the-top laugh, and John looks sheepish. “Damnit Cheyenne! You promised not to bring her up anymore!” John stalks off to fill more orders while Cheyenne tries to get a hold of herself.
“He broke up with his girlfriend over a hangnail?” I ask.
“Well, that, and he told her he didn’t like the way she chewed.”
“Chewed?” I ask, confused.
“Yeah, I don’t know either.”
If the guy can’t handle the way a woman chews, then I know he can’t handle the sound of Sam snoring.
“Hey.” Sam sits on the bar stool next to me.
“Hey.”
“Good news.” She says, breaking into a proud smile. “I think I found a one-night stand.”
“Let me guess," I say dryly. “John, the bartender?”
“Yep! How’d you know?” She seems way too excited about the guy, and knowing what I know, he’d only let her down.
“Because you were over there cackling like a hyena with him.”
“First of all, I don’t cackle, I giggle. And he seems nice.”
“Sam, I’m not sure you can even do a one-night stand. ”
She half-shrugs, and her nonchalance about it irritates me. “Sure, I can.”
“Have you ever had sex with someone without knowing their name or without even liking them?”
“Doesn’t matter. I can handle it. And no one has sex with people they don’t like.”
“Plenty of people have sex with someone they don’t like," I point out.
She argues, "There at least has to be some kind of attraction to the other person.”
“Okay," I finally say. I’m not sure why I care so much, but I do. The thought of her getting her hopes up and being let down does not sit well with me at all. I don’t want her risking herself just to prove that she’s capable of sleeping with a random guy with no strings attached. Which, I already know she isn’t because she’s Sam, and Sam is… Invested. “Whatever you say, but just make sure it’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“If you say so,” I say, still unconvinced.
“I do.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”