Chapter 4
Twenty Years Old
“Come on, Kitty Kat.” Sam and I are quickly making our way through the mall. He’s basically tugging me behind him.
“Why are you walking so fast, Sammy? I thought we were just window shopping?” Sam just smirks down at me, his brown eyes twinkle, his light brown hair is slightly wet from the drizzle outside, but doesn’t answer my question. He tugs on my hand slightly, urging me forward.
By the time he slows his pace, I see we are heading straight to a jewelry store. I look up at him, trying to figure out what he’s doing, but he ignores my gaze.
He drops my hand as he walks straight to an area of the store like he knows exactly where he’s going. Slowly, I follow him but stop in my tracks when I see the section he’s standing in front of is full of engagement rings and wedding bands.
“Sam,” I say his name slowly, “what are we doing here?”
Finally, he looks at me, and I can’t place his expression. “I need you to help me pick out a ring for Claire.”
A ring.
For Claire.
The noise of the busy mall goes quiet, and I know Sam is saying something to me because his mouth is moving, but the words don’t register. I knew he was dating Claire, but I didn’t realize it was serious.
I mean, Sam was just holding my hand less than a minute ago.
He brushed my hair out of my face as I was getting ready to leave my dorm. He has dinner with me almost every night. It felt like Sam spent nearly every waking hour with me when we weren’t in our respective classes.
When has he even had the time to spend with Claire?
My mind is reeling, and I feel my body go rigid when Sam places his hand on my arm. I try to focus on him again when I hear him, “Kat, are you ok?” Sam’s confident smirk from before is nowhere in sight. Instead, his expression is tight.
“Sam, I don’t—” understand? I don’t want you to marry her. What am I trying to say here? I can’t live without you.
Fuck.
“Please don’t marry her.” The words are out before I can think them over, and now that I’m speaking, I can’t stop, even when Sam drops his hand from my shoulder and shoves both into his pockets.
“I love you. I’ve been in love with you for so long.
Please, don’t marry Claire. Be with me. I… I want you to choose me.”
I drop my gaze from him when I see him look around us. I forgot we were standing in the middle of this stupid jewelry store, and now? All I want to do is leave, curl up in my bed, and forget this ever happened.
I take a step back, ready to bolt. I can’t believe what’s happening. I can’t believe Sam brought me here to help him choose a ring for someone else. I can’t believe I just confessed my feelings for him. But I had been so sure he felt the same way.
At least, until now.
Sam clears his throat, and I look back up at him. His expression is… pained when he finally speaks, “I love you, but—” he clears his throat again and briefly looks down at the floor before squaring his shoulders. “Not in that way. You’re Ethan’s sister and my friend. I’m sorry.”
My heart feels like it’s clawing its way out of my chest. How could I have gotten this so wrong? Of course, he only saw me as a friend.
“I, um,” I look around the store, “I have to go.” Before I lose my nerve, I turn around and quickly walk through the wide opening of the jewelry store.
I hear Sam say something behind me, but my ears are ringing so loudly that I can’t make out his words. I don’t dare stop to talk to him, I don’t dare turn around to see his beautiful face again.
I feel my phone buzz in my back pocket. Pulling it out, I decline Sam’s call. I make it halfway down one corridor of the mall before I stop to order an Uber to pick me up.
My chest feels tight, and I can’t seem to catch a breath as I wait at the curb for my ride; my mind drifts to memories of the last two years.
Sam and I were close when we were kids, not as close as he was with Ethan, but we had gotten even closer during college. When I heard Sam talk about how much he loved going to school in Seattle, I knew that was where my path would lead.
Sam was starting his junior year at the University of Washington when I was a freshman. Far from home, he took me under his wing. I’m sure it was at my brother's insistence to “take care of my little sister.” But I was grateful all the same.
My first year, I struggled with balancing classes and feeling homesick. It was my first time being away from my parents. I was having a hard time not seeing them regularly. I spoke to them on the phone every day, but it wasn’t the same.
During the second quarter of my freshman year, my boyfriend, Kevin, broke up with me. We had been dating since the middle of our sophomore year in high school.
Kevin was still in Charleston, and the long distance was taking its toll on our relationship. When I left for Seattle, I thought Kevin and I were endgame. I thought we would be one of those cute couples that were high school sweethearts. I was naive.
A few weeks into my first semester, I felt things shifting.
Kevin didn’t answer my calls as much, and his text messages were slow and inconsistent.
When he responded, it was usually with one or two-word responses.
I knew our relationship was creeping toward a natural end.
Even though I was expecting it, I was still devastated when Kevin called to break up with me.
Sam showed up at my dorm room one day and nearly dragged me to the library to study with him. He finished his homework before I did and then helped me with mine—math was never my strong suit. Once we were finished, we ate dinner in the food court, and I told him what was wrong.
From that day forward, Sam and I studied together nearly every day. We met for coffee and often ate lunch together whenever our schedules aligned. We adventured around Seattle and hiked on the nearby trails.
Having him there made me feel less lonely.
I don’t think I would have gotten through that first year if it hadn’t been for Sam.
One day during my second year, I realized I couldn’t stop thinking about Sam.
He was all I thought about when we weren’t together.
When we were together? Well, I thought about him then, too.
I couldn’t stop thinking about his laugh and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, or his small touches: brushing my hand, or putting his hand on the small of my back.
I went on dates with other guys but couldn’t stop imagining it was Sam’s lips on mine, his hands around my waist. So, naturally, those relationships never went anywhere.
There was no doubt in my mind that I had fallen for my brother’s best friend. For my friend. Thinking about it now, I just feel like a walking cliché.
Sam just rejected me.
I don’t know how I’ve managed to hold back the tears fighting to spill down my cheeks, but once I’m safely in the back of the car, they won’t stop.
The driver doesn’t say anything, just lets me cry.
Twenty minutes later, I stumble into my dorm room and fall onto my bed, burying my head into my pillow as the sobs wrack my body.
***
Present Day
As I reach the third-floor landing, despite my exhaustion from the day, I discard my bags in the hall and turn toward Ethan’s bedroom instead of mine.
Slowly, I open the door and step inside. I’m not even really sure why I’m here, but I feel nervous. I stop myself from glancing over my shoulder just to be sure no one is behind me.
As if Ethan might be lurking in the shadows, waiting to catch me sneaking in here.
But of course, no one is there. Ethan won’t ever catch me in his room again. The thought makes my stomach plummet as I hold back my tears.
Once fully inside, I shut the door behind me. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.
This day is nothing like what I expected. I wanted to spend the day finishing my work. I wanted to spend the evening eating Chinese takeout with Liv and her girlfriend, Talia, while we watched reruns of Gilmore Girls—something we do every fall.
I think back to my call with Ethan this morning.
God, that seems like a lifetime ago. I can’t wrap my head around the idea that I won’t be able to pick up the phone and call him.
That he won’t ever see the memes and reels I send him that I think he will laugh at.
Or that I won’t get similar messages from him.
Did I say I love you?
I shake my head, trying to coax the thoughts away, and look around his room.
It hasn’t changed much since we were in high school. Mom always wanted us to feel like we had a place to stay if we needed it, so she never changed our rooms. They are both exactly how we left them when we moved out to go to college.
It’s almost funny looking at Ethan’s room now because it could be one of those fake room setups in a museum with a plaque that says: “Typical Teenage Boy Bedroom Circa 2010.” I chuckle softly at the thought.
The walls are still stark white. Ethan and I begged Mom for years to let us paint our bedrooms. Ethan insisted that green walls would make him smarter.
I wanted pink. I’m not even sure why, because I’ve never been a girly-girl. If I had to wear a dress or a skirt, it was a bad day. It's funny that now I wear mostly dresses to work. Despite Liv’s very vocal distaste for my wardrobe choices, it's easier than having to coordinate patterns and styles.
My attention focuses on Ethan’s letterman’s jacket hanging on a hook by the door. I glide my fingers along it, feeling the soft leather. I run my hand along the OAKS patch on the back.
He was so proud the day he lettered in track. He begged Mom all summer to get him a letterman’s jacket so he could “show off his accomplishment.” She caved, and he never stopped wearing it.
He even took it with him when he left for the University of South Carolina. Over Christmas break, he brought it back and hung it here. He was so worried that people would view him as “peaking in high school,” and he “didn’t want that reputation.”