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Chapter Eight
After crying myself to sleep,I dreamt of Sam. Of the first time we met. Her bright, welcoming smile. The crazy pen she gave me to use when I couldn’t find one in my purse. How she made serving drinks seem more like fun than work.
Of the night she helped me unpack my apartment. The bottle of cheap, red wine we shared. Her studying every book as she put them on the shelf. Reading the descriptions on the back and asking me if any of them were worth reading. If I believed in true love because I read romance novels.
Her laughing at the idea while I contemplated telling her about my encounter that afternoon. How I was beginning to believe in love at first sight. The way it felt like my heart gave itself to someone else without asking for permission. Biting my tongue when she made fun of my favorite novel, saying the storyline wasn’t believable.
No one falls in love that quick.
My dream is a mash-up of all the moments we shared before I met Jay.
She talked about him a lot in the few weeks we knew each other. It almost felt like I knew him before we were introduced.
Maybe that’s why the guilt was so consuming. Because I knew she was in love with him even though she was afraid to admit it to herself. Because I saw the stars in her eyes when she’d say his name. Because I wanted what she had.
Before I knew who he was.
Before I knew it was the guy who’ saved me from falling on my face.
I wanted what she had with my mystery guy.
And then my mystery guy turned out to be her boyfriend. The guy who brought her mother flowers when he picked Sam up for their first date. The same guy who was always giving her funky pens for work because he said the fuzzy tops reminded him of her colorful hair. The guy who sent her cute texts while she was at work saying he missed her, wanting to know if she needed a ride home so she didn’t have to walk.
Jay was a gentleman. He showered Sam with affection. Was always buying her little gifts and bringing them to her at work. He drove her around whenever her car broke down and never once complained.
He was perfect.
He was also hers.
I never told Sam about my mystery guy. I had intended to but when she arrived that night to help me unpack, she was in a foul mood. It had been a rough night at work. One of the locals in town had been harassing her all night, hitting on her even though she flat out told him she had a boyfriend. We drank wine, and I let her make fun of my romance novels and bitch while we unpacked until we both passed out from a mixture of exhaustion and too much alcohol.
Not that I forgot about him after that day. Nope. Jay’s timing just happened to be as perfect as he was. He showed up to pick her up the next night as I launched into my story. I was just to the part in the story where I tripped when he walked in. My story was long forgotten as I watched her run across the now empty bar and launch herself into his arms.
His eyes were on me.
Mine on him.
And I knew in that moment that I could never have him. I wouldn’t do that to Sam because I’d be devastated if someone did that to me. Love at first sight or not. It didn’t matter that I had already given him a piece of my heart.
Hoes before bros.
Sam was my hoe.
That sounds horrible. Referring to her as a hoe, especially since she’s gone now.
Shaking away the memories as I climb out of bed, I head into the bathroom and turn the shower on. I’m getting an early start today so I can work on the profile. My alarm went off at six o’clock, but I’ve been laying in bed, snuggled under the covers for the last thirty minutes.
Once steam begins to billow out from behind the curtain, I slip out of my yoga pants and pull my tank top over my head, folding both and putting them in my suitcase. I’m about to step out of my underwear when there’s a knock at my door.
I freeze, my underwear resting just below my butt cheeks.
Who the hell is knocking on my door this early in the morning and why?
Another knock.
I can’t very well ignore it.
Pulling my underwear back on, I let out a sigh as I walk over and answer the door after a third set of knocks sound.
