Chapter Nine
As Sam looked out the airplane window, she realized that a trip back to the city couldn’t have come at a better time.
That morning with Alex had been a lot to take in.
All the events of the past few weeks had been a lot to take in.
She had spent years believing one thing, and in a matter of a few days and even fewer conversations, she realized that everything she thought she knew was wrong, or if not wrong, then more nuanced than she had thought.
And not just about Alex, though that was the biggest shock.
No, she had been mistaken about her town, community, and former friends.
Sam knew she tended to dwell too much in the past. That tendency had shaped her actions since she left Hicksville.
Now that the truth seemed to be out, she didn’t know what to do with it.
Sam sighed again and then turned her attention back to her laptop.
She’d known she would have to make this trip back since she headed home two weeks ago.
She was supposed to have been working on her presentation in between working on the house, but with all of the unexpected distractions, she hadn’t made as much progress as she would have liked.
She was disappointed in herself. For years, she had worked hard at her job.
Sure, it wasn’t exactly what she had pictured herself doing when she graduated from college, but it was interesting work.
She was good at it. Most importantly, it paid her well, allowing her to send money to her mother every month and still live a very comfortable life.
Now she had the opportunity for a promotion, provided she could get through a hectic week with the presentation, client meetings, and the board meeting at the end of the week, which would be the icing on what was going to be a very long week.
Sam was already exhausted just thinking about it.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat.
Just for a minute, she told herself. She really should be using this time to work.
But her thoughts inevitably drifted toward Alex, like they had been doing nearly every three minutes since she first laid eyes on her two weeks ago at that volleyball game, replaying every interaction and conversation they’d had countless times, agonizing over any hidden meanings she might have missed.
There was no question that Alex had been Sam’s first love, and people say you never really do forget that. Sam thought back to when they both realized there was something more between them than friendship, their first kiss, and the conversation that had followed.
Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Sam pulled back from the kiss.
She opened her eyes wide immediately, anxious to gauge Alex’s reaction.
Something twisted in her chest. Alex was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen, and Sam had just been kissing her.
Her blond hair was softly tousled. Her lips were plumped to a deep shade of pink and slightly kiss-swollen.
Her usually icy blue eyes had turned to something darker and more turbulent as they moved over Sam’s face.
“You’re so beautiful.” Sam heard the reverence in her voice.
Who had initiated it? She couldn’t recall who leaned in first. They had been batting the possibility around for the past hour with long glances, subtle touches, and this new game where they asked each other hypothetical questions, like “What makes a kiss a kiss? Is it the sound, the touching, or the intent?” They were acting like typical adolescent teen girls, refusing to show vulnerability to each other.
Sam didn’t have much experience to compare it to, but she knew that kissing guys didn’t make her feel like that. Kissing Alex felt like nothing else she had ever experienced. It felt real. It felt natural. It felt like the most right thing on earth.
I don’t care what this is.” Sam’s tone was firm. “I don’t care if it means that we’re gay or if you end up being the only girl I ever kiss. All I know is that right here, right now, I want to kiss you again.” Sam’s heart hammered in her ribs as she waited for Alex’s response.
“I want that, too,” Alex whispered. She leaned in, and their lips met again.
Sam felt a shiver at the memory. Her thoughts drifted back to Saturday night.
Until the conversation had turned serious, she really thought that Alex in that blue sweater might have come very close to being the death of her.
There was no denying it—obviously, she still found Alex extremely attractive.
Who wouldn’t? The woman had an effortless, down-to-earth beauty that time had only enhanced.
All the guys at the bar had been stealing glances at her, and still, like in high school, Alex was clueless to the attention.
When the plane touched down, she powered on her phone and was surprised to see a text from Alex already: Thank you for listening. How about dinner when you get back?
Sam shook her head. Alex sure was persistent.
Sam debated her answer as she waited for the plane to taxi to the gate.
What do I want? This was the first time she had asked herself that openly.
On one hand, she wanted to see Alex again.
Alex had done nothing but support her since they reconnected.
They had been friends before and could be friends again. And she really could use more friends.
On the other hand, she felt like seeing Alex again might open a whole can of worms that she didn’t know if she was ready for.
She still found Alex attractive, and if her looks and comments were anything to go by, Alex maybe felt the same way about her.
But she was only going to be home for another few weeks.
She couldn’t afford to get attached. She needed to keep things strictly in the friend zone. She would have to tread lightly.
This is going to be a rough week. Can I let you know when I get back?
The dots to indicate Alex was typing back appeared briefly, then disappeared.
Finally, a single thumbs-up emoji came through.
Sam watched her phone for another minute, hoping Alex would say more, but no response came.
A throat clearing behind her signaled that it was her time to disembark.
She put the phone in her pocket with an enormous sigh and made her way down the row.
Two days later, Sam was ready to crash or head back to her mother’s house, where even dealing with the growing tension with Alex felt like less work than work.
She had spent all of Monday catching up on email.
After being out for only two weeks, she had over seven hundred unread emails.
And that was after keeping a close eye on things remotely so she wouldn’t fall too far behind.
After doing some inbox triage—filing away the items that didn’t require her attention and flagging all the emails that still needed a follow-up—she still had eighty-three emails staring at her.
She also returned over a dozen voicemails and spent another two hours checking in on clients she hadn’t communicated with during the past two weeks.
She was exhausted and still had to finish her presentation for Wednesday. How was this her life?
She knew she should be working, pushing through to the finish line.
Instead, she was sitting in the semi-dark in her one-bedroom condo, staring out the window at the city in the distance.
The place was quiet, but not in a way that made her feel relaxed.
This silence felt lonelier and more suffocating.
Everything was immaculately clean and uncluttered, but not because she was a neat freak.
No, it was more because she had so little that was worth leaving out.
Her couch was an uncomfortable mid-century knockoff she had gotten during a holiday sale.
The coffee table was polished and gleaming, with not even a remote control in sight.
Even her kitchen, with its quartz counters and stainless-steel appliances, felt like it was straight out of a staging room.
The only things with personality were a few framed photos of her and her mom, and several etched-glass globes she had gotten at work for hitting sales targets.
She sighed and reached for her phone, thinking maybe a drink would help get her out of her funk.
But then she realized she didn’t have anyone to call.
Most of the people she knew had been friends with Tegan first. After the breakup, they chose to stick with her.
With a long, shuddering breath, she realized she didn’t have any real friends in Boston she could call. She dialed Jordan instead.
“Sam. Where in the hell are you?”
Sam smiled at Jordan’s greeting. “I’m back in Boston,” she explained. “Work.”
“For how long this time?”
“About a week.” Sam got up and headed to the fridge. What she wanted to talk to Jordan about required beer. She pulled out a bottle, popped the top, and then wandered back to the sofa. She leaned back against the cushion and put her feet on the coffee table. “I get back Thursday night.”
“And how are things on the home front?” Jordan’s tone was light.
“It depends.” Sam stalled. Even though she had been the one to initiate the conversation, she was still trying to figure out exactly how she was feeling about everything. “Do you mean this home front? Or that home front?”
“Why would I care about what’s happening in Boston?” Jordan asked, calling out her deflection. “What is ever happening to you in Boston? Nothing. All you do is work!”
“Okay, okay.” Sam laughed. He really did know her too well. She took a swig of her beer and thought about where to start.
“I’m waiting.” Jordan prodded after a few moments.