Chapter 28 #2
When we finish eating, Chris drives me home. He doesn’t walk me to the door but stays by the curb until I’m safely in the building.
I’m relieved it’s over and hurry up to my condo where I change into some comfy clothes, slip on Ethan's Letterman's jacket, make popcorn, and turn on Mulan. I always watch Disney movies when I need some comfort.
I watch the first fifteen minutes and realize I can’t stop thinking about Sam and how uncomfortable our call ended. I can’t handle the weirdness any longer, so I send him a quick message.
I hope you're having a great time with your friends tonight.
His message is almost instantaneous.
Back from your date already?
Or are you messaging me while he's droning on about how much hair gel he uses?
Hair gel? I breathe out a laugh before sending my response.
It wasn't a date. But yes. I'm home now in my pjs, watching Mulan.
Mulan, huh?
Don't start with me, Harris.
Wouldn't dream of it, Kitty Kat.
Can I call you in about an hour? I should be home then.
Only if you promise not to tease me about my movie choices.
Deal.
***
By the time Sam calls me, I’ve almost finished Mulan. I pause the movie and put in my headphones before answering.
“How was your guys’ night?”
“It was fine.” He doesn’t sound like it was fine. “Listen. About earlier? I’m sorry I ended the call so abruptly. It was rude of me,” he sighs before continuing, “I have no right to be jealous. But I was, and I know I wasn’t a good friend to you. I’m sorry.”
He was jealous? I can’t imagine that Liv was right—that Sam is in love with me. The feeling is too foreign. “You were jealous?”
“Of course, Kat. After Thanksgiving, and our call the other night about you coming to Chicago, I just thought—” He blows out another breath. “I don’t know what I thought. But yes. I was jealous that Chris got to be on a date with you.”
I take a deep breath, trying to wrap my head around what he’s saying, and lean forward on the couch.
For some reason, my mind drifts to that phrase I’ve heard so many times: people show you who they are. I think it’s meant more in the negative context, but it still seems relevant right now.
Sam wouldn’t have kissed me if he didn’t want me. He wouldn’t have made me feel, well, Sam isn’t that cruel.
I need to believe what he has been telling me for a few months now. I need to think that Sam wants more, too.
“Sammy, I wish it were you instead of him,” I say too quietly, but his quick intake of air tells me he heard my words.
“Kat,” he says my name like a prayer, “it isn’t fair of me to hold you to anything. I know I can’t expect you to wait for me. I won’t ask you to be mine when we live so far from each other.”
Be his?
“I want you to be happy, and I promise I’ll try my best to support you when you go on another date.” He sounds gutted as he speaks, and my heart cracks.
What I wouldn’t give to be there with him. To take his face in my hands. To kiss him. To wrap my arms around him.
I’m not sure how to respond. My brain is stuck on the merry-go-round of Sam’s words. He was jealous. He won’t ask me to be his. Sam wants me to be his? He wants me to be happy. He would make me happy.
“Did you finish Mulan?” I know he’s trying to change the subject as if he knows my mind is spinning. Or maybe his is, too.
“Almost,” I answer automatically and without emotion.
“Kat, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for how I acted.” His pleading stops the spinning.
“Sam, it's ok. You don’t need to keep apologizing.” I roll my neck, trying to stop the tension that’s creeping into my head.
“I guess I’m trying to reconcile what you’re saying with everything else.
” I stretch out on the couch and pull the blanket up to cover my chest. “I wish you were here,” I say finally.
“Do you? Wish I was there?” He sounds shy. Uncertain.
“Yes. Everything has been easier when we’re in person.”
“'Cause you can’t keep your hands off me?” he teases.
“Pretty sure it’s the other way around, buddy.” We both laugh. “Maybe because I can see your face and your expressions? Maybe because I can feel your words instead of just hearing them?”
“If I were there, what would you do?”
“Honestly? I would make you sit on the couch next to me, I would snuggle into your side and listen to your heartbeat.” My words surprise me—because they’re true.
He groans out, “God, that sounds amazing. Especially after the night I’ve had.”
“Wait, you didn’t have a good night?”
“No. I was an asshole to you. I spent the entire night regretting how I acted and wishing I could be there to punch Chris in the face just for being with you.” He lets out a dark laugh.
His possessive words cause my core to tighten and my heart to beat so fast it's a surprise it isn’t beating out of my chest.
“Sam,” it comes out too breathy. “I feel like I’m stuck in this impossible situation.”
“Yeah. So, what are we going to do about it?” His defeated tone matches my feelings about the subject.
“You’re older than me. Aren’t you supposed to have all the answers?”
His laugh breaks some of the tension I’m feeling. “I have some solutions, but none that are easy, I’m afraid.”
“Care to share with the class?”
He sighs audibly, “Well, either I have to let you go, and you move on with someone else, which I can’t do, or I move back to Charleston.” He says it in such a matter-of-fact way.
His first option feels like a knife to my gut. If only he knew how much I’ve tried to move on with someone else, only to be pulled back into his orbit, even if we weren’t speaking.
“Is moving back to Charleston an actual option for you?”
I hear the smile in his voice when he responds, “I think so. But it's complicated.”
“It always is,” I say in defeat. The thought gives me hope. If he were in Charleston, things between us would be a lot less complicated.