Page 2 of Holiday Situationship

“And don’t follow me in to try and change my mind. I’m leaving as soon as I have time to fix my hair and makeup,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain. “I can't leave here looking like this.”

With that, she disappears inside, leaving me standing on the deck, stunned and somewhat relieved. Part of me feels like I should make an effort to go after her and smooth things over somehow. I don't want her to feel bad, but the words won't come, and my feet stay rooted to the wooden deck.

A door slams inside, and I let out a relieved sigh. There’s only one person who can help me make sense of the chaos swirling in my head.

I pull out my phone and call Annie.

***

Annie

I’m cocooned in blankets, when the shrill ring of my phone pierces the quiet morning. My fingers grope the nightstand, searching to quiet the source of irritation. I lift the corner of my eye mask and instantly regret it. Bright morning light pours through the transom window. I wince and cover my eyes as I grab the phone.

“Hello,” I scrape out with a husky morning voice, the haze of sleep clinging to my brain like cobwebs in an old, dusty attic.

“Hey, Annie,” Sam says too brightly, not quite masking an underlying strain. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

His attempt at cheerfulness falters. I’ve known Sam long enough to know when he’s trying to hide something. I bolt upright and slide the eyemask to my forehead. Dazzling light hits me like a spotlight, making it hard to focus. I blink the shimmering brightness away as it abrades my sleep-addled brain.

“No. I mean, yes. I was asleep but should have been up hours ago.” I pull the phone away from my ear, checking the time. Way too early for a Sunday.

Sam chuckles. “Since when do you get out of bed before noon on a Sunday?”

“If you know so much about my sleep schedule, then why are you calling so early?” I scrunch my nose. He knows me too well.

I throw the covers back, slide my feet into my bunny slippers, and shuffle to the bathroom to check myself in the mirror. My hair’s a tousled mess, strands sticking out at odd angles like a messy bird’s nest. I squint at my reflection. Sleep lines crease my drool-crusted cheek. I brush a hand through my tangled hair, shaking off the remnants of sleep, and try to see past the imperfections.

“Just figured I’d see if you were up for breakfast or something.” Sam lets out a small humorless laugh. “You know, see what my favorite morning grump is up to.”

Favorite morning grump. I smile, despite my disheveled state. I wouldn’t be so grumpy in the mornings if we were waking up together, but I push the thought aside. As much as I’d love to be more than just friends, I’m content to be Sam’s favorite anything.

“It isn’t like you to be without a breakfast date on Sunday morning.” I frown and grab a toothbrush as visions of Sam’s girlfriend come to mind. She’s glamorous and effortlessly beautiful, whereas I’m simple, understated, and ordinary. “Does your latest super model not eat?”

I cringe as the words slip out, regretting the comment immediately. My sarcasm betrays the ugly green monster I try so hard to keep hidden. It isn’t Sam’s fault women are drawn to him. He’s good-looking and tall with broad shoulders and an athletic build. If that weren’t enough, his expressive eyes and a warm smile draw women in like flies. He’s comfortable in his own skin, naturally charming, and a total nerd at heart.

“Chastity broke up with me this morning.” Sam’s voice drops to a subdued tone, the forced cheerfulness gone. “She’s glamming up to leave right now.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

A pang of guilt hits me in the gut for poking fun of Chastity. As sad as I am that Sam’s been sucker punched by another girlfriend, a small flicker of hope ripples through me. Maybe one of these days he’ll see me as girlfriend material, and I’ll finally get out of the friend zone.

“I forgot her birthday.” There’s an edge of disbelief in his tone, as if he’s still processing the oversight.

It’s the kind of resigned frustration that comes from realizing a mistake too late. Like the drunken mistake we made on my birthday the year I turned twenty-one. Too much flirting and a lot of tequila shots led us to cross the line from friends to something more, but not enough. It was a mistake we’ve never talked about, a moment lost to the fog of inebriation and unspoken feelings.

“It’s not too late. You could send her flowers or something,” I suggest as part of me wishes it were that simple for us.

Would things be different if we’d confronted that night head-on instead of burying it? I was too scared to risk our friendship, too afraid to admit my true feelings for Sam went beyond being his gal pal. If I’d confessed, Sam and I might not be the best friends we are now.

“Nah, things weren’t going that well anyway. This was bound to happen sooner or later.” A subtle tinge of nonchalance creeps into his voice–a hint of relief, suggesting he’d like to change the subject. “I’m tired of all of it.”

“All of it?” I echo, unsure of what he means. My brow furrows as I try to read between the lines. Is he talking about more than his fractured relationship with Chastity?

I pad to the closet and push aside hangers, searching for something to wear. I grab a sweater and jeans, waiting for his response.

“You know, dating–meeting someone new, learning their likes and dislikes.” His voice lacks enthusiasm, not the outgoing Sam I know. “The whole shebang.”

My breath catches, and I’m frozen in place with one leg slipped through the leg of my jeans and the sweater hanging forgotten in my hands. I don’t dare allow myself to think what this could mean for us. Just thinking about it could jinx the possibility.

---