Sam.

~~~

Not long after Scott and I separated, Paul came by for a visit. He had something to share about what he'd found in Scott's apartment, and I was eager—and a little anxious—to hear it.

"Did you find something new?" I asked as we walked into the living room. My voice was steady, but my heart raced.

Paul dropped into the armchair with the ease of someone who didn't follow rules too strictly. "We got into Scott's apartment," he said, his tone calm but charged with meaning. He leaned back, his dark blazer creasing slightly as he crossed one ankle over the opposite knee.

My eyebrows shot up. "You did?"

"But," he added quickly, holding up a hand, "if anything comes of this, I didn't tell you that."

"What do you mean 'if anything happens'?" I perched on the couch, folding my legs beneath me.

"You don't need to know the details right now." He shook his head, as though brushing away an annoying fly. "I managed to access his computer, but the files are heavily encrypted. My tech girl is working on cracking them, but with Scott's background in tech, it'll take some time."

"It's illegal how you got the information, isn't it?" I pressed, narrowing my eyes at him.

He gave me a look—a mix of amusement and exasperation. "I think you already know the answer to that question."

I nodded, biting back a smile. It wasn't like I expected anything different from Paul.

"I have a plan, though," he went on, his expression serious now. "From what I can tell, Scott's not aggressive. Your case should be easier to handle than Raymond's was."

I frowned. "What do you mean, 'case'? Are you talking about court?"

"Possibly," Paul admitted his voice even. "But I don't think it'll come to that. A restraining order should be enough. Still, if it does go to trial, it's better if you don't know all the details about how I got the information."

The mention of a trial made my stomach flip. "A trial?" I repeated, my voice sharper than I intended.

Paul nodded. "It's a possibility, Samantha. You need to be prepared for that."

Before I could push him for more, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and answered with a harsh tone, "What?" I watched him closely as he listened. His face hardened, his free hand tightening into a fist on his knee. "I'll be right there," he said and hung up.

"Sorry, Samantha," he said, standing abruptly. "I have to go."

I followed him to the door. "Is it about Scott?" I asked, tugging on the hem of my shirt.

"No," he replied, slipping on his shoes. Then he paused, one hand on the doorknob. "One more thing—avoid your balcony."

My brows shot up. "Why?"

"It's the only part of your apartment visible from Scott's, even with a telescope." He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. "Have a good day, Miss Morris," he added with a faint smirk before disappearing down the hall.

I closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long breath. Paul said Scott wasn't aggressive, but I knew better. Back in freshman year, Scott had gotten into at least two physical fights. Maybe I should've mentioned that to Paul, but the bombshell about a possible trial had thrown me off. For now, though, I decided to push the thoughts aside—I had to get ready for the game night.

The weather was too good to ignore, so Ray and I decided to walk to Molly and Mason's place. We met a few blocks from my apartment to avoid any chance of Scott seeing us leave together. It was only a thirty-minute walk to Francis Avenue, where Molly and Mason lived, and Ray had left his car at a café parking lot nearby to avoid the hassle of finding a spot on their crowded street.

Their building stood out with its bright white exterior, offset by darker accents. It was three stories tall, and they lived on the first floor. Across the street, Harold A. Henry Park stretched out with its towering pine trees swaying in the breeze, their creaking sound mingling with the laughter of kids playing in the distance.

As we approached, Molly opened the door almost immediately after the first buzz, holding Spot, their English Springer Spaniel, by the collar.

"Quick, come in," she urged, shooting the dog a stern look. "Stop it, Spot!"

"Hi, friend," I said with a grin, stepping inside.

"Hi, hi! Go sit down," she said, motioning toward the living room while wrangling Spot.

Their apartment was cozy but modern, with pale gray walls and a mix of black-and-white furniture. Molly had managed to sneak in splashes of pink and yellow—her favorite colors—despite Mason's protests. In return, Mason had claimed a corner for his enormous flat-screen TV and PlayStation.

Ray and I made our way to the living room, where Mason was deep into a racing game. After quick introductions, I left the guys to bond and joined Molly in the kitchen.

"Sit down if you don't want to get fucked," Molly said matter-of-factly as she unpacked snacks.

"What?" I blinked at her, stifling a laugh.

"Spot." She pointed at the dog, who was eyeing me with unnerving enthusiasm. "Yesterday, he went to town on Mason's leg. Left a stain on his sweatpants—it was gross."

I couldn't hold back my laughter anymore. "Does he do that often?"

"Only if you're standing," she replied, shooting Spot a fond yet exasperated look. "Sit down, and you're safe."

I perched on one of the high chairs by the kitchen island. "Need any help?"

"Nope, I've got this. Tell me about lunch with Scott," she said, raising an eyebrow as she set chips onto a tray.

"You mean Scott and his new look?" I asked, and she nodded eagerly. "He dyed his hair black."

Molly burst out laughing. "And let me guess—he looks awful."

"Worse than you're imagining." I shook my head.

Her laughter turned sly. "Did you tell him about Ray?"

"No," I said quickly. "I just told him Ray and I are friends."

Molly's eyes narrowed playfully. "How many of these 'friends' can you have at once?"

I sighed. "I'm serious about Ray. I just didn't want to provoke Scott."

Molly leaned in with a mischievous grin. "Speaking of Ray, how was the date? I need details—more than the vague stuff you told me last night."

I rolled my eyes. "It was great, okay? We had a really nice time."

"Cut the crap, Sam. How was he in bed?"

I blushed. "We haven't gone there yet."

"Why?" Her voice was almost a shriek.

I furrowed my eyebrows at her over-the-top reaction. Molly and I talked about everything including our sex life. The thing was that Molly judged me way too often, in general, and especially my choices in sex. I lost my virginity way before she did, though she had a boyfriend her parents were way more strict leaving Molly in fear of being judged.

The way we were raised as so-called high society ladies we were judged no matter what we did, and to be fair I gave zero shits about the whole thing. I stayed on my best behavior up until I turned eighteen to be the daughter my parents wanted but I never filled those shoes. Molly on the other hand was perfect and still lives by those standards.

"You want more details so you could tell me I am whoring out?" I asked my tone light with a hint of sarcasm.

"Well..." Molly gulped and her expression seemed anything but light. "no. You kinda have all those adventures so it's just fun to hear them." Her tone seemed strained and strange.

"You okay?" I asked, with clear concern.

"You and Tom tried a lot of stuff after a while, right?"

"Yes, trying comes with time and trust I suppose,"

Molly diverted her green eyes, she seemed uncomfortable. "Mason is not really up for that..." She glanced at the door. "Fine I did judge you for some stuff, but I was still a virgin and you know under my parent's roof." I nodded in agreement. "I tried to spice things up but Mason refused every time, sex is becoming repetitive and boring."

"Oh, Molly," I had no idea what to say or how to console her. "You been together for three years so it's becoming a routine maybe?"

"Kinda, it's not like we don't have sex, it's that it goes the same way every single time."

"Tom and I jumped into trying new things kinda fast, both of us discovered what we like that way. I kinda more need info to understand what you saying," I said with a sigh.

Molly's shoulders relaxed. "Mainly missionary, we tried a few other positions but only once since Mason was not into it, I even tried a sexy outfit last week and he was not happy about that."

"You need to talk about that with him," I said honestly.

"I can't," Molly shook her head, letting blond strands of her hair fall on her face.

"Molly," I said leaning over the kitchen island and taking her hand. "Talking about sex with someone, with who you do have sex is important, to know what they think and like before jumping into bed with them, or discovering things together." She nodded. "The reason why me and Ray haven't had sex is because of him, we made out but he is not up for sex yet, plus I am on my period."

"What?" Molly asked stunned.

"It's just who he is," I said. "I understand that and will wait until he is comfortable with me,"

"So I just need to be honest with Mason?"

"He adores you, and if you express how you feel, he might reconsider your suggestions, at least trying something new."

Molly nodded in agreement, she looked a bit more relaxed. Mason and Molly seemed like an "it" couple, no fights or any drama so knowing they were struggling in bed in a way stunned me. The mood changed and with a lighter topic of how bad Scott's hair looked like Molly finished preparing the snacks.

We took everything we might need from the kitchen and went to the living room. Crossing the corridor again, Spot followed us, wiggling his tail, and tapping his nails against the wooden floor.

The tension in the room was palpable, Ray and Mason sat not looking at each other. It was clear something happened but each of them seemed in their own worlds.

~~~

Ray.

~~~

Mason sat stiffly on the couch, arms crossed like he was guarding the throne. I took the armchair, sprawling back into its deep cushions, trying to appear more relaxed than I felt. The tension between us was as clear as the stale air in the room, though we both kept our mouths shut when the girls walked in.

Molly set a bottle of wine and glasses on the small table between us, her movements sharp and purposeful. "Why aren't you guys playing?" she asked, eyeing us like a mom catching her kids mid-argument.

"He hates me," I said without hesitation, pointing at Mason.

Molly froze, her hands on her hips, looking at Mason like she might throw the wine bottle at him. "Babe," she said, her voice dropping an octave, "explain."

Mason frowned, his tough-guy act slipping under Molly's glare. "I don't hate him," he muttered, sounding like a kid caught stealing cookies. "He beat me at my game, babe."

Molly's face lit up. "Seriously? That's amazing!" She turned to me with a proud smile while Mason's pout deepened.

I smirked. "Told you I was good."

Molly sat beside Mason, patting his knee. "See, now you can stop calling yourself 'Speed King.' Someone finally knocked you off your pedestal."

Mason grumbled something under his breath about beginners' luck, but Molly ignored him. Meanwhile, Sam set down a tray of snacks on the table, her expression calm but guarded.

When her eyes darted around the room for a place to sit, I reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward me. "Come here," I said softly, coaxing her onto my lap.

Her body stiffened, and I could feel her hesitation. Sam wasn't one for grand displays of affection in public, something I probably should've remembered. But when our eyes met, her defenses softened. Slowly, she settled onto my lap, swinging her legs over the side of the armchair.

Mason poured the wine while Molly queued up some music. Conversation started flowing again, the tension from earlier dissolving into the background.

"So, Ray, tell us about yourself," Molly said, her curiosity practically buzzing in the air.

I glanced at Sam for a moment, then answered, "There's not much to tell. But ask away. Whatever you want."

Molly tapped her lips in thought. "Okay, what's your favorite color?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "You really think that's an important question?"

Molly raised an eyebrow. "You want something harder?"

I nodded, sipping my wine. "Hit me with it."

Her grin turned wicked. "How many girlfriends did you have before Sam?"

I caught Sam's side-eye, then looked back at Molly. "Two."

Molly burst out laughing. "Yeah, right. You expect us to believe that?"

I shrugged. "That's the truth. Take it or leave it."

"You're a rock star!" she shot back. "No one's going to believe you've only had two girlfriends."

Leaning back, I kept my tone even. "Being a rock star doesn't make me any less human. People slap labels on you, but that doesn't mean they define who you are."

The room went quiet for a moment, Molly blinking like she didn't expect such a direct response. Mason quickly jumped in to lighten the mood. "Alright, let's move on. How old are you, Ray?"

"Twenty-six. I'll be twenty-seven next month," I replied.

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "You didn't tell me your birthday was so soon."

I smirked at her reaction. "You didn't ask." Leaning closer, I added, "When's yours?"

"December tenth," she said, smiling.

"July twenty-fifth," I said, locking eyes with her.

Before we could get any deeper, Molly waved her hands. "Hey! We're still here. Cut it out with the foreplay!"

After Molly finished grilling me with her questions, Mason shifted the energy by pulling us into some word games and drinking challenges. By the time the wine bottle was empty, we'd all loosened up. Mason pulled out some leftover weed, and soon, the room was filled with the familiar haze of smoke and laughter.

The conversation dwindled as the pot took effect. Mason and I halfheartedly picked up the game again, Molly scrolled through her phone, and Sam excused herself to grab hers.

A few minutes later, I found her in the hallway, staring at her screen. Quietly, I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder. "So," I murmured, my lips brushing her ear, "do you think I passed?"

She laughed softly, turning her head slightly toward me. "I was joking about needing Molly's blessing."

"But it matters, doesn't it?" I pressed, letting my hands slide to her hips. "Her opinion of me."

Sam turned to face me, her hand resting on my neck. "A little," she admitted. "But she did say you're a better choice than Tom. Does that count as approval?"

I grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Better than Tom? I'll take it."

Pulling her closer, I kissed her. As always, her lips felt warm, grounding me in a way few things ever did.

Later, when we returned to the living room, Molly was asleep, her head resting on the couch arm, and Mason barely glanced up from the TV.

"We're heading out," Sam said, grabbing her bag.

Mason smirked. "You're still coming tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," Sam reassured him. "I'll help with whatever you need."

After Mason walked us out, Sam and I strolled back to her place, the cool night air carrying the faint hum of music from nearby bars. The quiet between us was easy, and for the first time all night, I felt like I could breathe.