“Right.”
I was still holding my pliers in my hand. I flipped them around, rolling them in my fingers. “I think we’re going to have to spend some time learning how to be friends.”
“Friends.”
There was something about the way he said it; almost like that word was a disappointment. I knew that wasn’t the case. But that was what was making this strange, wasn’t it? We didn’t quite know what we were, or how to be with each other. For me, my body kept thinking we were back in that hotel room every time I looked at him too long. For him, who knew. He was still adjusting to being a dad. And maybe being confused with my weird reactions to him.
Hence the high five.
I cringed oncemore.
“Yeah,” I said to Sam now. “Friends.”
It was the safest bet.
Even if he did have thoughts about our time together, there was no way he wanted a relationship. Not the way he flitted around life. Maybe co-parents?
I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand. I decided maybe that a little bit of honesty would help here.
“Sam, maybe we should just start from scratch. Like, not talk about that night, you know? It’s too confusing otherwise.”
I heard the click of Sam swallowing. Then he said, “Of course, Ellie. That makes sense.” He laughed without humor again. “My life isn’t exactly in a good place for anything more anyway.”
This sent a spike of something bad through me. Like I’d been trying to suggest he might want to date me. Oh God.
“Okay, good,” I said. I was glad, actually. Starting over was the only way we were going to get through this.
Then I asked the thing that had been lingering in the background, because might as well get it all out, right?
“Are you…sticking around, Sam? I know you said you’re not moving to Singapore anymore but is that a temporary hold?”
A beat passed where I held my breath.
“I don’t have any plans to go anywhere, Ellie.”
I let out the breath, trying to ignore the relief that flickered through me at that. He didn’t have plans right now. But he wasn’t a planner like me. He could change his mind at any time, hop on a plane if things didn’t go his way or got too hard.
I was being unkind. But I needed to be, in my head at least. Hope just led to disappointment.
“Okay,” I said. “Well, I guess we should make plans for our next meet-up?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Great.”
Something about the way he was talking sounded weird. I couldn’t put my finger on why. But I think maybe it was just awkward. That was all.
We hammered out plans for a walk in the park on the weekend and said polite goodbyes.
I stood up. It was only then I remembered I was still holding my pliers. I opened my hand, wincing slightly. A perfect indent of its edges was pressed, angry and red, into my hand.
It hurt, but not as much as this tender spot deep in the space behind my ribs. The place it made no sense to hurt when I’d asked for and gotten exactly what I needed from Sam. When he already felt the same way as I did.
CHAPTER 12
Gord the Garbage Truck Driver
SAM
Friends? Fuck me.
