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“Habit,” I conclude for her. My head is spinning. “So even though I don’t loveloveSam, you still think I’m emotionally tied to him?”
She nods like it’s a no-brainer.Holy shit.“I would be surprised if you just fell out of love with him so quickly, especially since he’s returned to his former self. Doesn’t say much for your relationship in the first place if that were the case.”
She has left me dumbfounded once again. “When did you get so smart?”
She holds up her empty glass with a grin. “I blame the gin. And Dr. Phil.”
So it appears being friends with my ex is going to take some getting used to, but Piper is right. Samisa habit. I looked for him whenever I was lost, but now, it’s time I looked for myself.
Sam impressively carries a tray filled with three beers as he approaches the table apprehensively. I don’t blame him. Poor guy is probably wondering what exactly he’s walking into. Piper lunges for the beer, bopping to a pop song belted out by a very enthusiastic patron.
When the song ends, she rolls up her sleeves and smirks. What is she up to now?
We find out when the emcee announces, “Okay, next up is Piper, Lucy, and… Dick.” My eyes widen before I burst into laughter. Sam’s mouth pops open.
“What?” Piper innocently says, tossing back a mouthful of beer. “You did say you wanted to make amends for being a dick.”
Before we can protest, she shoots to her feet and loops her arms through ours. She drags us to the glitter stage, relishing the catcalls and cheers. Both Sam and I don’t stand a chance, so we follow, unsure what we’re in for.
The emcee is a young guy decked out in a Hawaiian shirt. He amps up the already peppy crowd by lifting Piper’s hand in the air like she’s won the Olympics. She, of course, laps up the attention while Sam and I look at one another, unable to hold back our smiles. “Who’s ready to rock on?” He raises his rock horns, making Ozzy Osbourne proud.
Sam leans in close, whispering, “I will pay you five hundred dollars if you push me off this stage and break my other arm.”
I snort giggle, covering my mouth. “Not on your life. Who’s going to push me?” His husky laugh slithers down the column of my neck, but I remember what Piper said and focus on erecting those boundaries.
We huddle around a screen when the emcee gives us three microphones. Looking out at the crowd is beyond daunting, and I wonder what the sea of nameless faces thinks of us as they take us in. To onlookers, we probably appear normal, just three friends out for a good time. Maybe there’s hope for us yet.
But now, when the distinguishable intro to one of my favorite tunes in the world blares over the speakers, I forget about everything and just lose myself in the song. I look at Piper, unable to wipe my smile clean.
I know why she chose this, and I love her even more for believing in me because the song she’s appropriately chosen is “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey. This is my jam, and although I’ve never done karaoke before, I take to it like a duck to water.
As soon as the lyrics pop up on the screen, I sing along, but I don’t need the prompt because I know the words by heart. Sam stands between me and Piper, and I’m surprised he’s singing along and actually having a good time because we would normally never do something like this. But as we approach the chorus, I realize that what Piper said is right. We have to ensure our friendship doesn’t resemble our relationship to establish change.
This proves I can have both— a friendship with Sam and a relationship with Saxon. I will mess up and probably have many days like today, but as long as I remember to be true to myself, then I will learn along the way.
As we reach the infamous guitar solo, Piper and I nod at one another…so on the same page. We turn our backs and use Sam as our pillar, employing our microphones as makeshift guitars. He chuckles, happy to comply.
As we belt out the chorus, I’ve never felt more in tune with the words than I do right now. I won’t stop believing because that’s what living is about. Once the song ends, Piper fist pumps once, living out her 80’s rock star dreams.
Sam and I look at one another, both flustered and breathless and full of laughter. The adrenaline of singing to a roomful of strangers provides an unexpected head rush, and when that guise I recognize as longing passes over him, I know what I have to do.
He steps forward, but my arm snaps out as I place a hand on his chest. His heart is galloping, but I refuse to entertain the notion it’s from something other than the fact we just sang out our lungs. He peers down at the barrier in complete understanding. Boundaries are set in place.
Piper is bowing to her new legion of fans, so leaving her to her limelight, I pass the emcee my microphone, then jump from the stage. Reaching for my cell in my back pocket, I push through the cheering audience and make a beeline for the front door.
The fresh air cools my heated cheeks, and with my nervous fingers, I do something I should have done hours ago. The moment his gravelly voice enters my ear, I instantly liquify into slushy goo. “Hey you.”
It takes me a moment to speak because I’m lost in Saxon Stone. “Hey yourself.”
“Why are you so breathless?”
I walk up the street, away from the loud, drunken patrons because I don’t want to miss a word he says. “I’m at a karaoke bar.”
“Oh?”
I know how that sounds, considering I’m here to supposedly support Sam through a tough time, but I want him to know everything. “Yes, Piper dragged Sam and me here.” His bitterness can be felt through the phone. “Now before you jump the gun, I want you to know that today, I felt weird when I saw Alicia standing in my kitchen wearing Sam’s old basketball jersey… The one I used to wear. And when Sam and I closed our joint bank account, I thought I was going to pass out.”
“Okay…” His tone turns cold, but he’ll soon understand why I’ve divulged all I have.
