Page 1 of My Accidental Valentine

Chapter 1. The Reunion

My best friend Emilia was born on Valentine’s Day, which is why, instead of getting fucked by some hot, brooding guy, right now, I’m standing on the porch of her house, knee-deep in snow, holding a massive bouquet. Not that anyone was lining up to fuck me anyway—it’s been eight months after I broke up with Tim, my boyfriend of three years, and I’ve been chronically single ever since. So this year, while everyone else in our group comes in pairs, I’m coming alone. No pun intended.

The guest list for Emilia’s birthday is always the same: Emilia Lee herself—also known as Millie, my ride-or-die with her main character energy—and her golden retriever boyfriend, Peter Stein; Peter’s smart, hilarious sister, Tina Stein, and Tina’s loving girlfriend, Amira Saule; my sister, Chara Warren, who absolutely adores Emilia (and the feeling is mutual); Chara’s boyfriend, Sean Portman, a sweet, family-rich guy with a gaming habit that keeps him up all night and in bed until noon; and, of course, me—Sam Warren.

So when the front door of Millie’s house swings open, my mind goes completely blank—because there, standing on the threshold, isAdam Payne.

Of all the people in the world, he’s the last person I expected to be here.

You see, Adam Payne is Peter’s best friend, and the four of us—me, Emilia, Peter, and Adam—used to be in high schooltogether. Adam and Peter were upperclassmen, one grade ahead of us. That’s how we all first met, and Emilia and Peter have been together ever since. And because Adam is Peter’s best friend and I’m Millie’s, we naturally crossed paths at their birthdays. Adam also happens to be my long-standing high school crush. The problem is,Adam Payne hates my guts.

It’s a little embarrassing, really, because Adam and I only ever interacted in group settings, and even then, our conversations never went beyond awkward small talk—with me doing all the heavy lifting to keep them alive.

I always knew I didn’t have a chance with him romantically. For one, he’s completely out of my league—the smart, sexy ex-high-school chess champion who was also a star football player for three years, now a lead scientist at a machine learning startup specializing in dental technology, with the face of Brandon Walsh fromBeverly Hills, 90210and the body of a Greek god—and for another, he’s almost definitely straight. We went to high school together, so I saw him date plenty of girls.

But even with this unrequited crush on a straight guy, I loved seeing him twice a year. It was something I looked forward to, a chance to indulge the butterflies in my stomach. That was until I spoiled everything.

It happened less than four years ago, right after Peter’s birthday, though I didn’t find out about it until a week later. That’s when I accidentally discovered—much to my shock and disappointment—that Adam Payne refuses to attend Emilia’s birthday party if I’m there.

Here’s how it happened.

It was just four days before Emilia’s birthday. We were at her house, lounging around with mugs of coffee, casuallychatting, while I scrolled through her photo gallery, looking for that picture from the night we got wasted at the local bar and ended up doing karaoke with the bartender.

Then, a message from Peter popped up on her screen:“Yup, Adam’s not going to your b-day since Sam’s going…”

I froze. The words didn’t fully register at first—like my brain needed an extra second to process the blow. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I felt heartbroken, humiliated, and confused all at once, even before I had any clue what I’d done to deserve this. It was like being dropped into a pool of molten lava, everything in me burning at once.

When I asked Millie about the message, she looked genuinely sorry, guilt written all over her face. She admitted she’d been hoping Adam might change his mind so she wouldn’t have to tell me, and that she’d been dreading the conversation because she knew how big of a crush I had on him.

As it turned out, two days earlier, Adam had told Peter he probably wouldn’t be going to her birthday party and initially refused to explain why. But when Peter pressed him, Adam reluctantly admitted it was because I, Sam Warren, would be there. Peter claimed he’d promised Adam not to share any details but hinted it had something to do with what had happened on Peter’s birthday. Despite Emilia’s best efforts—pushing and even resorting to emotional blackmail—Peter remained firm and refused to say anything else.

You can imagine how mortified I was when I found out, especially since I’d gotten so wasted at Peter’s party that most of the evening was a blur. I did, however, remember one key detail: deciding to approach Adam for a conversation. In my drunken logic, I’d convinced myself it was time for us to be friends. I mean, why not? He was cute. His dark, deadpan jokes alwayscracked me up, and even though nothing romantic could ever happen between us, being friends felt like a perfectly reasonable idea.

The next morning, I woke up with the worst hangover of my life but felt oddly accomplished. Sure, I was a tiny bit embarrassed, but mostly, I was proud of myself. I thought I’d finally broken the ice between Adam and me. In my delusional mind, I pictured us as part of a close little group from then on—me, Emilia, Peter, and Adam—going to the movies together or hanging out like the great friends we were about to become.

But apparently, in reality, I’d done something so mortifying that Adam decided he never wanted to see me again.

For months after, I couldn’t stop obsessing over what might have happened—or worse, what I might have done. My theories ranged from embarrassing to outright mortifying. Maybe I’d told him the story about the time I got a boner in class while watching a documentary on top US male athletes. Or, even worse, maybe I’d tried to kiss him or done something equally stupid, like cornered him or touched him inappropriately. That’s not something I’d ever do—I value consent like it’s sacred—but I’ve always had this irrational fear of being the creepy unreliable narrator from a thriller who turns out to be the villain all along. So, yeah, the paranoia kind of tracks.

Millie, of course, tried to calm me down. She insisted I probably hadn’t done anything wrong, swearing she’d seen me for most of the night. She even remembered me talking to Adam one-on-one in the kitchen and said we actually seemed like we were having a good time. She was confident I hadn’t harassed him or done anything inappropriate. And even if I had tried to kiss him, she pointed out, Adam wouldn’t have felt threatened—he’s taller, stronger, and way more physically powerful thanI am—so, at worst, it would’ve been an awkward attempt at seduction.

That gave me some comfort, but my anxiety refused to go away.

In a desperate attempt to recover the memory, I even went to a hypnotist—but I just ended up wasting a hundred bucks on what felt like an old man ASMR session and got absolutely nothing. My brain seemed to wipe the whole thing clean to spare me the embarrassment of reliving it. For a while, I thought about confronting Adam and asking him what really happened, but the shame and humiliation were so overwhelming that I did what any mature thirty-year-old man would: avoided him entirely, pretended it never happened, and buried the memory so deep it only resurfaced when I was alone—forcing me to physically shake my head just to make it go away.

Since Peter’s birthday—easily one of the most humiliating days of my life—I haven’t seen Adam. He’s been skipping Millie’s birthdays ever since, and I started skipping Peter’s, just to avoid the chance of running into him. So when the door swings open and Adam Payne is standing there, looking right at me, I’m completely blindsided.

Heat rushes from my neck to my ears so fast it feels like I’m transforming into pure embarrassment—like Mystique fromX-Menshifting into her scaly form. My legs go wobbly, barely able to hold me up, and for a moment, I’m convinced I might faint if I don’t sit down. I can’t even imagine what’s written on my face, because my mind is racing with a million thoughts at once.

But then, to my utter surprise, Adam just says, “Hi,” his face completely neutral, and steps back to hold the door open for me.

I don’t know what I expected—for him to yell at me, punch me, or kill me—but I feel an overwhelming sense of relief as I step past him into the house, the flowers in my hands trembling just slightly.

I step into the hallway, doing my best to avoid looking at Adam as I wipe my boots on the mat. He’s just standing there, as if he’s waiting for me to say something, but I keep my gaze fixed anywhere else, willing my face not to burn. Then I hear faint noises coming from the living room and seize the chance to escape.

“Hey, Sammy!” my sister’s voice rings out before I even see her. Tina and Amira are in the room too, all three busy decorating. Chara and Tina are standing on chairs, taping a string of lights to the ceiling while Amira holds the other end steady.

“Hi, Sam!” Tina and Amira greet me warmly, and all three of them rush in for a hug.

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