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Why wasn't anyone talking?
The silence on the line stretched too long — heavy, uneasy.
I was just about to hang up when a voice finally broke through.
"Hey, Bird."
My chest tightened instantly. My eyes widened, breath catching mid-inhale. That voice — deep, familiar, and unwelcome.
I hadn't heard it in years, and I'd prayed I never would again.
My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles ached. My nails dug into my palm, grounding me as panic crawled up my throat.
"I didn't know if I should call or not," he continued, his voice calm — too calm.
Every sound in the room faded. My heart was the only thing I could hear.
Without thinking, I yanked the phone from my ear, pressed hang up, and just stared at the screen — watching my reflection tremble in the dark glass.
Please, God. Let Sam not have noticed.
"Is everything okay?" she asked softly when the silence dragged on too long.
"Yeah," I lied quickly, forcing air back into my lungs. "I think it was a wrong number. No one said anything."
"That sucks," she said, still watching me curiously. "I thought it was Sandy calling."
I forced out a laugh that sounded more like a cough.
"Why? Already fed up with me?" I teased, praying she wouldn't see the way my hands were still shaking.
These moments — as rare and fleeting as they were — scared me, yet somehow they made me happy.
I'd deal with the chaos in my head later.
After all, it's not like Sam and I were going to be friends I'd see every day. Maybe, once Sandy called, she'd be gone too.
That thought stung more than I wanted to admit.
"Do you want to go for early dinner?" I asked, pushing the thought away. It was 5 p.m., and the only thing I'd put in my stomach today was a cup of coffee.
"Are you asking me out for dinner, Jolls?" she teased, one brow raised, that sly smile playing on her lips.
"No!" I shouted — louder than I meant to. "I mean— yes, but not like a d—"
"Relax," she laughed, the sound light and warm. "I was toying with you." She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
"I wish you could've seen your face," she managed between laughs.
I turned toward the kitchen, mostly to hide the heat crawling up my cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she said when her laughter finally eased, her voice softer now. "It's just… it's hard to read your emotions sometimes. I had to take my chance when I got it."
"Where do you want to go?" she asked, shifting back to her calm self.
"I don't know," I said with a shrug. "Where do they make good food?"
"I think Chatom. I don't really eat out much."
That surprised me. "What? You don't eat out?"
"I prefer homemade food," she said casually. "I could make something if you want?"
The offer was tempting, but my stomach growled loudly enough to speak for me.
"Yeah, I can't wait that long. I'm starving. Maybe we can order if you hate going out."
She grinned. "No, let's go out."
"Can you call a cab?"
"Sure."
Moments later, we were seated at a restaurant, our orders already placed. The waiters here were fast — or maybe my hunger was just impatient.
My stomach growled again, louder this time.
Samantha burst into laughter. "You're really hungry."
The waiter smiled politely as she set the trays down. The rich smell of pasta and beef stew hit me hard, making me twice as hungry.
As soon as the food landed in front of me, I didn't hesitate — I dug right in.
"Oh my God, I'm so rude," I said, looking up mid-bite realizing I should have waited for Sam to get her food first."I swear I'm not always like this. I'm just so hungry."
"No, n—" she started, but the waiter came back with her order — pepperoni pizza and a vanilla milkshake.
The air filled with the comforting mix of melted cheese, sauce, and herbs.
For a while, we ate in silence — the kind of quiet that didn't feel awkward, just… peaceful. The only sounds were the faint clinks of forks and plates.
"So," I said after a while, "where do you work?"
"At muxim hotel," she said between bites. "Part-time waiter."
"Really? I've been staying there since I came to town. How come I've never seen you?"
Her eyes glinted with amusement. "You did."
"What? No way. I'd never forget this face."
The words slipped out before I could stop them. I froze, biting my lip.
"You don't remember slamming your door on me? Your first morning there?"
"That was you?" My voice shot up. "But you said you're a waiter."
"I was helping out a friend," she said lightly, though her tone carried a trace of hurt.
I felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry. You caught me at a bad time."
"It's okay. We're used to that kind of reaction at the hotel."
I smiled awkwardly, fiddling with my fork.
"So, yesterday…?" I asked, dragging the words out.
"Oh, I'd just finished my shift," she said, her eyes lighting up. "I saw you at the bar. You looked so lost I came to say hi — then realized how wasted you were."
"Was I?" I asked, already feeling my face burn.
She nodded, grinning. "You're really stubborn and talkative when you're drunk."
"What do you mean?"
"You kept telling me how cute I was."
I stared at my food. "You're lying."
"I can show you the video if you don't believe me."
My head shot up. "You what? You took a video?"
Her laughter filled the air again. She slid her phone back onto the table. "I'm kidding. I didn't."
I let out a long, shaky sigh. "Oh, thank God."
She smirked. "You also mumbled something about Sandy. You must really love her."
"Yes," I said instantly. "I love her."
I meant it. She was my person. My safe place.
So why did my heart twist when I saw Sam's expression soften at my words?
I quickly changed the subject. "So… are you in school?"
"Yeah," she said. "I just got admitted. First year starts Monday."
"Nice."
But my thoughts drifted again — back to that voice on the phone. Thank heavens he hadn't called again.
"Jolls?"
I blinked. "Hmm?"
"Are you still with me?" she asked, gently tapping my hand.
"I'm listening," I said quickly.
"Are you ready for school on Monday?"
"Not really. I still have some shopping to do tomorrow."
"I wish I were free. I'd go with you," she said, a trace of regret in her smile. "But I already made plans."
"It's okay. I don't need much anyway," I said as we reached the cashier.
She tried to pay, but I insisted — I was the one who asked her out. She finally gave in with a soft laugh.
The car ride home was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Streetlights flickered through the windows, painting her face in soft gold as she looked out.
When we reached my apartment, I asked her to come in for a bit. She smiled, shook her head. "I'd love to, but I have somewhere I need to be."
"Okay," I said, trying to hide my disappointment.
She dropped me off and waved as the cab drove away.
I noticed it was seven as I walked into the apartment.
I sank into the couch, letting the silence wrap around me. It was depressingly quiet — the kind of silence that presses on your chest. I'd gotten used to having Sandy around these past few days, and without her, the place felt too big. Too still.
I couldn't help but wish Sam would come back. My heart was already aching for her — for the laughter, for the warmth that had filled the space just hours ago.
I turned my phone over on the table, afraid of what might happen if it rang again.