Page 65 of Official

We should’ve been throwing our clothes to the side with passion, not anger.

And it just makes me feel shittier.

I grab a beer from the fridge and trudge to my room, my feet heavy.

The things I said and did were shitty, but part of me still believes Sam has been putting up a facade, online and with me. How am I supposed to know where Samantha Ray ends and Sam West begins?

It’s hard for someone in her position and career to know where the line is between an online presence and the true self—I just witnessed it firsthand.

She was vulnerable and lost when we got to the island, and I was there for her. I’m the only guy she knows within thousands of miles. How does she know shereallywants me?

As I lay my head back onto a pillow, my clothes untouched, I ask myself that question repeatedly.

Beyond my fear of starting an actual relationship with her, I’m scared to find out I’ve fallen for someone who doesn’t genuinely feel the same way about me.

I toss and turn all night with these nagging insecurities until I finally jolt awake, but when I go into the living room, I wish I was still asleep.

Sam’s heels are gone from the sitting room.

There’s no coffee brewing, blow dryer blasting from her bathroom, or music echoing from the balcony.

There’s only a note waiting for me on the counter. Scrolled across the top of a notepad with the hotel letterhead is a message from Sam that she got her own flight and left this morning.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, she further twisted the knife in my gut by writing that she sent me money via Venmo for the roundtrip ticket because she doesn’t want to owe me anything.

I curse under my breath and crumple the piece of paper in my fist, then march into my room to get dressed.

Reality is waiting for me.

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