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CHAPTER 3
CHRIS
Sam's quiet demeanor since yesterday has been bothering me. I have a hunch about what caused her to go all sullen but I can’t be too sure. I’ve asked her several times already, but each time, she either brushed me off or changed the subject.
We spent the better part of the night together in the suite rehearsing my speech for today. I didn’t need the practice. I just wanted to take Sam's mind off Peter, whom I suspect is the reason for the change in her attitude.
Surprisingly, I hadn’t thought anything inappropriate about her during that period. Well, other than the time she drained her glass of wine and I couldn't stop looking at the arch of her neck, then her lips, before ending at her legs when she stretched. Okay, maybe I did look too much.
Although we retired to our separate rooms early, we had a good time in each other's company. At least I did. Now that I think about it, I hope I didn’t selfishly hog Sam's time yesterday when she could have gone out to explore and meet new people. Why didn’t I think of this last night?
I check the time on my watch as I wait for Sam to come out of her room. Part of the conference's program is a Fitness Walk from 9 to 10 am. The time is 8:45 and we should’ve been there several minutes ago to make sure we meet the group.
I debate calling her cell or knocking on her door but then I discard both ideas. I shouldn’t disturb her. I should let her take her time. Yes. That’s the best course of action. Unless she’s still asleep.
Should I call her? I make my way towards the sofa in the living space. Before I can sit, Sam's door opens and she comes out of the room. She’s dressed in black and grey sportswear — the body-hugging type that makes you fix your stare on the gym floor as a gentleman.
She hasn’t seen me yet so I take a little time to bask in her beauty.
Goodness, she is beautiful.
She finally looks up from her phone and sees me. I'm still staring.
“Oh, hey,” she says in a breathy voice. “Are you okay?”
I stand upright and scratch the back of my head. "Yeah. I was just about to sit when you came out." I laugh a little and move towards the door. "Are you ready?"
"Hmm-hmm," she nods. Her gaze runs all over me, from head to toe and back. My heart skips a beat. What is she doing?
“You don’t look too bad in a tracksuit.” She smiles.
I let out a breath. "You don't look too bad yourself."
We make it just in time for the trainer coordinating the walk to address the crowd. It’s not as big as I expected. Turns out not many people actually want to spend the first few hours of their morning walking around town.
"Ever heard of Herbert Walker?" The trainer says after reading out a number of rules and regulations and what not to us. "He started walking five miles a day when he was 60. Now he's 97 years old and we have no clue where he is."
Good-natured laughter breaks out from the group.
The trainer smiles. She looks pleased with herself and continues. "All I'm saying is, 'Don't get lost, people.' There's no reward for that."
She blows a whistle hanging around her neck and everyone starts walking. Some pick a brisk pace, while others walk at a more leisurely pace. This doesn't deter the trainer. She keeps encouraging the walkers.
“Good things are coming down the road, people. Just keep walking. Ten thousand steps, people. Keep walking. Walk, walk, walk some more. Ten thousand steps. Let’s go.”
“Hey, Chris,” Sam’s voice cuts through my thoughts on the walk. “Can I talk to you?”
I stop walking and give her my full attention. “What is it?” My mind runs in about a thousand directions wondering what she could probably want to talk about. Is she quitting her job? Does she regret coming here with me?
"Let's keep walking, though. It's not that big of a deal. I just need your opinion on something." Sam fidgets with her water bottle as she takes small steps forward.
"Okay," I say. It’s a big deal for her to be fidgeting this much. I fall in step by her side, making sure we’re not walking too close to other people for them to hear. I don't know how sensitive what she wants to talk about is.
“So, this is about a friend,” she starts.
"Okay," I nod, knowing immediately that it's about her. After all my years counseling the youth at the church, I've learned that there’s never truly any friend.
Sam is quiet for a while. Her gaze is focused as she thinks about what she wants to say.
