Sam.

~~~

The room was thick with the scent of pepperoni and mushrooms, and my stomach growled in protest. Thankfully, the chatter of the group drowned out the noise. Ray led the way to the U-shaped couch, and I took a seat next to him sitting on the left side next to him, feeling his presence beside me like a constant anchor. Logan and Rory claimed the middle, while Molly, Courtney, Chloe, and James sprawled out on the right side, directly in front of me.

"I've got the controller," Logan declared, lifting it high in the air like a trophy. "So I'm picking the movie."

"No!" the group groaned in unison.

The blue glow from the TV barely lit up the room. The chandeliers overhead were bright enough to almost make the screen irrelevant. The pizza had already been devoured, leaving behind half-empty cardboard boxes scattered across the glass table. But, lucky for me, there was still a piece of pepperoni left. I grabbed a plate and tossed a slice on it, following Ray's example as he stuffed his face with a gooey chunk of cheese pizza. Logan continued to protest, but neither of us paid him any mind.

The movie debate was in full swing. The guys were leaning toward "Baywatch," while the girls were more in the mood for "Before I Fall." Neither of those felt right to me.

"What about Happy Death Day?" I suggested, swallowing the last bite of pizza.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a bit extreme?"

"It's better than watching some sad movie about a girl dying and dealing with emotional turmoil," I said, explaining my point without hesitation. I knew how they looked at me—pity mixed with fear—but honestly, it didn't matter. For me, horror was just less emotional than those gut-wrenching dramas. In real life, you don't get to know who the final girl is.

There was a moment of silence before Raymond gave a small nod of approval. That was enough for me. The movie credits began to roll, and Andrew dimmed the lights to add to the movie theater vibe. As the group dove into a "who's the killer?" discussion, I leaned back into the couch, taking a sip of my rum-and-cola.

Ray's hand rested lightly on my waist, not exactly comfortable with my spine's position against the couch, but still, it was a steady reminder that he was here, watching over me. I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept my focus on the movie, ignoring his gaze.

The slurping sound of my drink seemed to echo in the quiet room, but no one noticed. The leftover ice cubes clinked in my glass as I stood to grab another cocktail. The other girls were sipping champagne, while the guys, predictably, stuck to whiskey.

But then the familiar ache in my shoulder returned. I'd taken a Vicodin earlier before getting dressed, but it had been hours, and the pain was creeping back. The doctor had said to take the pills when needed, and I gladly followed those instructions. The more I pushed myself physically, the more pills I had to take to keep up.

"I'll be right back," I whispered to Ray, tapping his knee lightly. He furrowed his brow in confusion, but I just gave him a quick nod. "I need meds."

He let go of my waist, and I swiftly left the living room, the now usual pain settling deeper in my bones with each step. I climbed upstairs to my bedroom, but to my surprise, Molly followed me.

The coconut scent still lingered in the room, much more pleasant than the chaos downstairs. I flopped onto the bed, burying my face in the soft, fuzzy cream blanket.

"Are you okay?" Molly's voice broke the silence, and I could feel the bed shift as she sat next to me. I groaned, flipping over onto my back. The light from the ceiling was too bright, and I lifted my forearm to cover my eyes.

"How do you just sit there with them, making small talk?" I asked, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. I sat up and turned to face her, desperate for an answer.

"What am I supposed to do?" Molly replied without missing a beat. "You were frozen, Ray too. I didn't really have a choice. Besides, they're not that bad."

"Not that bad?" I snorted, standing up and walking over to the nightstand. I grabbed the pill bottle, unscrewed the cap, and shook a pill into my hand. "They told me how fat I am, how my style sucks... and let's not forget how ugly I am."

Molly sighed, standing up from the bed as well. "You know she's just jealous because you have Ray, and she can't even get Andrew to flirt back." She laughed lightly, but I didn't find it funny.

"Maybe she's jealous, but it doesn't change the fact that she's gorgeous and basically mocked me in front of all of them," I muttered, swallowing the pill. "And you're just sitting there laughing with her."

"First off, I didn't know she said that about you," Molly said, crossing her arms. "And secondly, I had the option of talking to them or talking to Rory, who, by the way, is dating Ray's brother. What's up with that? Why didn't you tell me he was coming?"

Her questions hit me harder than I expected. I blinked, the pill slowly dissolving in my throat as I processed her words. "Fair point," I said, my voice quieter than I intended. "I didn't even know they were dating, and Logan thought we were friends, I guess. Honestly, Rory just slipped my mind at this point."

Molly stared at me for a beat before nodding slowly. "Yes, because everything is always about you, Sam. Your feelings, your problems, and whatever drama of the week you're dealing with! I need a drink." She turned on her heel and stormed out of the bedroom.

I plopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I'd never really noticed the patterns before, but now they seemed to pulse in a steady rhythm, like waves crashing gently against the shore. Maybe Molly was right—maybe I was always caught up in my own world, too tangled in my own mess to see anyone else's.

But then again, Molly was one of those annoyingly happy people who barely had problems. She'd never lost anyone, never had to face the kind of heartbreak that stuck with you. It's not like I invited the chaos, but somehow, it always followed me.

Downstairs, the muffled sound of music drifted up, but I didn't pay much attention. I realized I'd missed the end of the movie. The group was probably socializing, but I just needed a moment to breathe. I turned over onto my stomach, crawling toward the nightstand. The pain in my shoulder had lessened, but the self-pity was creeping back in, like a familiar old friend. I grabbed my phone, opened the messages app, and quickly typed a text.

Me: Hey.

Tom: Hey. How are you?

Me: Do you think Sara saw me as a threat? Like I would possibly take you away from her at any moment?

I hit send and waited. The seconds dragged on, and then, instead of a reply, a video call request popped up. I sighed and rolled onto my back, holding the phone up to my face, and swiped to answer.

"I'm pretty sure she did," Tom's groggy voice came through the phone, and I couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt. "You did take me away from her, I always thought she knew that. But what brings this question up now?"

I rolled my eyes. "I didn't take you away from her."

"Yes, you did," he argued, shifting slightly on his side. The low light from the phone screen cast shadows over his messy hair. He looked like he'd just woken up. "I left her because I wanted to be with you."

I lowered the phone for a second, staring blankly at the ceiling. "Can you see the blanket?" I clumsily flipped onto my stomach and pressed my face into the soft fabric. "It's so soft," I mumbled before looking back at the screen.

"Are you okay?" His voice was softer now, but I could tell he was still concerned.

"I don't know," I replied, my tone quiet. "We're having a party."

"Clearly, you're having so much fun," he said sarcastically, the tension in his voice evident.

"Ray's ex is here," I continued, trying to sound casual but failing. "She's... like, model-level pretty. I can't compete with that."

Tom raised an eyebrow, his face lit by the soft glow of his phone. "And you figured the best way to deal with that was to get wasted and message me at three in the morning?"

"I'm not wasted—"

"You look wasted," he interrupted, raising his eyebrows at me, clearly unimpressed.

"That's not helping," I muttered. "I had two, maybe three drinks, but that's not the point. I never knew how Sara felt around me, but I think Courtney knows... She knows she's superior to me."

"She can only be superior to you if you let her," Tom said firmly. "If you let that idea into your head. I thought you were solid, in love and all that."

"We are," I said, my voice uncertain despite my words. "I think."

"Sam?" he asked, his voice softening as he studied my face. I could feel his gaze even through the phone. "What's going on?"

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to push the feelings down. "Nothing. I'm just... lost, Tom. You were lost once. Do you have any advice on that?"

He seemed taken aback. "What do you mean, I was lost?"

"After we lost Abby, I went to university and we fought all the time. You looked lost, and then a few months later, you were fine. So, you must have a secret formula."

Tom looked away for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I wasn't fine, Sam," he said quietly as if the words pained him. "I lost everything that year, and I never recovered from it. You left, and I was left to figure out how to breathe without you."

My chest tightened, and I felt a sharp pang of guilt. I had left, but he never once asked me to stay. He never fought for me, never offered to come with me. I stared at the phone screen, blankly. "You never wanted to come with me."

"You never asked. Is there a point to all this?" he asked, frustration creeping into his tone.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"You messaging me in the middle of the night," he said, his voice laced with frustration.

"Just wanted to talk..."

"You can't do this anymore, Sam," he said firmly, his eyes intense. "You told me to let you go, and I'm trying really hard. But if you keep popping up, I can't move on. You can't come to me with boyfriend problems. It just gives me false hope."

I stared at the screen, my stomach sinking. The words hung in the air, and then his face disappeared from the screen. I groaned and tossed the phone on the bed beside me, staring blankly at the ceiling. He seemed fine, happy even, the first time I saw him after I left for LA. But maybe he was just better at hiding his darkness than I was.

I blinked slowly, the room spinning around me, until everything blurred together and I finally closed my eyes.