Chandler
CHANDLER
B ack at the house, the rain is still coming down fast, and we race inside. My wet shoes slide on the hardwood floor, and I bump into Sam from behind. I grab her waist, my arm wrapped around her middle. Her hand goes to my arm, gripping my wrist to steady herself. We laugh, and she turns around, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me. I move my hands to her hips, pulling her closer. When we pull away, she smiles at me, her arms still around my neck, my hands still cradling her hips. Her smile falls away, and her teeth toy with her bottom lip, but she doesn’t let go. My heart skips a beat. I know that look.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s just," she sighs, and when she pulls away, her soft fingers scrape the back of my neck, sliding to my shoulders and down my chest, then away from me. I let go of her hips.
“What about work?” She asks. “Couldn’t we get into trouble?”
Well, shit. She’s right, we could. But I also know that I would regret it more if I didn’t try.
“Fuck work!” I grab her hands. I can see her mulling it over in her head. My heart races. What is she thinking? Does she think it’s worth it? I hope she thinks it is, but the last thing I want is for her to regret anything. Even if it fucking sucks.
“Sam," I say and lift her chin for her eyes to meet mine. “I know you don’t want to lose your job, but we both know you and I have been teetering on this for a long time. I know what I want, and I think you want it, too. If you don’t, then fine. We’ll go back home and act like it never happened. I don’t know how well I can do that, to be honest, but I’m willing to if it’s what you want. I just know that I want this. I want you. I’ve wanted you since you first walked into the interview with your hair a mess and coffee on your skirt. I’ve always wanted you, Sam.”
She says nothing for a moment, and I’m afraid of what she might be thinking. Then she looks up at me and smiles.
“You’ve always wanted me?”
“Yes," I breathe out. She stares at me for a moment, her eyes narrowing, and then she laughs.
“I thought you hated me when I first started. You told everyone I was your assistant.”
“I was a dick," I say, the guilt settling like a rock in my stomach. “It was an office prank, and it went too far. I was an asshole. But you’re smart, you’re funny, you keep me on my toes, and sometimes I have no fucking clue what you’re going to say or how you’re going to feel, and I used to hate that. That unpredictable feeling, but I’m," I pause, trying to find the right word. “I’m very fond of you, Sam.”
“Fond of me, huh?” She teases. I smile and roll my eyes.
“Yes, and I want this. What about you?”
She smiles at me and kisses my lips so gently that it’s almost agonizing.
“I want to see where this goes. Let’s just take it one day at a time. ”
I nod. “I like the sound of that.”
After I shower, I go to the kitchen and make us sandwiches while Sam showers to wash off the rain. It’s still storming outside, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon. I glance out of the window and see that the wind has picked up. I’d almost forgotten how much this place looks like a horror film when it rains. The clouds are dark, and the trees almost look like they’re running away from the storm, their branches and leaves blowing to one side, waving around in the wind. I feel a little nostalgic, remembering looking out of my bedroom window to watch the rainfall as a kid. My entire world crashed down around me at such a young age, and since then, there was always a sort of hollowness within me. A missing piece I’ll never get back. I can’t think about that right now.
Today was a good day, and I’m not going to ruin it by going back to that place. I take a sip of water and take a breath, but then the thunder roars outside. I jump, startled. I set the water on the counter next to the plates of sandwiches. My muscles are tense, the ground swaying beneath me, and the plates seem to blur and multiply. I try to steady myself, gripping the countertop, and I take another deep breath, my chest tightening, and my stomach drops. When I release the breath I've been holding in, it comes out uneven and shaky. What the hell is wrong with me?
“?” I hear Sam, but her voice is almost like a muffled echo like it’s far away but close at the same time.
“?” Her voice is clearer this time, and I close my eyes to stop the room from spinning. I feel a gentle touch on my arm, and I open my eyes. My vision is no longer blurry, but I still feel dizzy. I pick up the glass full of water and gulp it down, then turn to look at her.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
“ I don’t know," I say honestly. “I have no fucking clue. ”
“It looked like you were about to faint or something. Are you feeling okay?” She presses her hand to my forehead, and I like the warmth of it.
“No, I feel fine now," I say. Sam shakes her head.
“, what's wrong?”
“I don’t know," I say. “I was looking out at the rain, and then I thought of…” I stop myself from continuing. I don’t want to ruin our day by bringing this up.
“Thinking of what?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Obviously not.”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair.
“We've had a good day. I'm not going to ruin it. ”
“What are you talking about? You won’t ruin our day because of your feelings, . You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but don’t think that you can’t because it’ll ruin our day.”
I look away from her and at the sandwiches I made for lunch on the counter and then back at her. Part of me wants to tell her, but what will she think of me then?
"It's nothing, Sam."
"..."
"Just let it go.”
"Fine. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to, but just know that you can."
This isn't how I wanted to tell her. I wasn't sure if I was ever going to tell her, or anyone, for that matter. But maybe I should. She was so open with me the other day about her mom. I don't talk about it, not to anyone, but maybe it will help; Maybe it will be the first step to healing this weird emptiness I've been feeling all my life.
"Okay," I say, and take a seat at the table. She sets a glass of water in front of me and takes the seat across from me. I take a drink of the water, swallowing along with the lump in my throat.
“When I was five, my parents died in a car wreck.” I pause for a moment, taking a breath. “After the accident, my sister and I lived with my grandparents. I just was a kid, and I was angry and confused. I would have outbursts, kicking, screaming, and stealing. By the time I got to high school, I almost had a criminal record for breaking into someone’s house. Luckily, my grandfather knew the sheriff and got me off. Then my Grandmother died when I was 14, and things got bad," I say and look away from her.
“After Grandma died, we struggled a lot with the bills, and my grandfather was a mess for a long time. I had to get a job and help out. I was able to go to college and still work to help support everyone. I started my own masonry business which was doing well for the first few years. But I had to handle everything for everyone, and I just needed to get away. I moved to Florida so I could just," I pause. “Be me.”
I clear my throat, feeling myself start to get choked up.
“So," I say, and clear my throat to relieve the tension there. “That’s my family shit”
Sam doesn’t say anything, and I avoid looking at her, afraid I’ve scared her off by being so vulnerable. But then she gets up from her seat, and my heart is beating so loud that it's a roar in my ears. She walks around the table, straddles my waist, and wraps her arms around my neck, holding me tightly. I stiffen for just a second before I give in and let myself be comforted by her. My arm comes around her waist, and I feel her hand play with my hair. I close my eyes, feeling the softness of her lips touch my forehead. My heart swells. And I realize I’ve just told her something that I’ve never told anyone else because it’s Sam. And I trust her.