“And you didn’t actually date a treadmill,” I said. “I thought we understood we were being metaphorical here.”
Sam smiled at that. “So what about you?”
“What about me?”
“I’ve given you a full dossier on my last relationship,” he said. “I want to hear about yours.”
“Isn’t this a bad idea?” I asked. “Trading stories about exes?”
He shrugged. “Just two friends talking.”
“Okay, okay.” I mentally sorted through the last few guys I’dbeen with, discarding all of them as not really a relationship. I knew if I asked Sam to define exactly what that word even meant I’d only be opening myself up to more questions, so I finally settled on a boyfriend I’d had after college, which meant it was... six years ago. Yikes.
“His name was Brandon,” I said. “He actually worked part-time at the vitamin supplement place in a nearby mall, so he was way into fitness. I think he would’ve dated a treadmill for real. We met through mutual friends who seemed to think we’d hit it off, although I can’t think why because it turned out we had very little in common. He was generally a pretty sweet guy, but I think he was looking for a girlfriend who would be more...”
I shrugged, not totally sure how to finish that sentence. But of course I should’ve known that Sam wasn’t going to let me off the hook.
“More what?”
“Demonstrative, I guess?” I said. “Affectionate? I didn’t laugh much at his jokes, because I didn’t know he was making any, and I didn’t randomly massage his shoulders when it seemed like he’d had a rough day. Meanwhile he was always trying to massage me, and that shithurt. He’d really dig in there and put some torque in it. Dude would eat protein powder without even mixing it into a shake first. That’s just not right.”
Sam laughed a little, leaning back on his hands in the grass, our pinkie fingers almost touching.
“We were just total opposites,” I said. “He even said it himself when we broke up. He had a hard body and a soft heart, whereas I... well. You know.”
I could feel Sam’s gaze on my face now, but I squinted andlooked away, scanning the water for any sign of Conner and Shani like it was the most important thing I had to do. I actually did spot them, walking hand in hand, starting to make their way back up the grass. Conner seemed a lot more relaxed, smiling and saying something to Shani, even though the sky only looked more likely to open up at any minute. I tried to figure out if maybe hehadproposed to her on their walk, but somehow I didn’t think so. They looked happy, but not like taking-selfies-with-the-ring happy.
“That’s such bullshit,” Sam said.
“This body is pretty soft,” I said, poking myself in my not-flat stomach.
“Your body is bangin’,” Sam said, “and to the extent Benchpress Brandon meant any insult with that comment, I hope he chokes on his protein powder. But I meant the heart thing, too. You don’t have a hard heart.”
I shrugged. “You don’t know me that well.”
“I know you’rehere,” he said. “Providing moral support because your brother asked you to, even though you hate fireworks. I know you let him call youPheebseven though it gets under your skin. I know you took in that cat because you hated to think of her not having a home. I know you’re here, back in town in a house that makes you sad, because you didn’t want to leave it for your brother to handle by himself.”
A raindrop hit my arm with a splatter, and then another, but I was barely conscious of the weather or the fact that people around us were starting to pack up and leave in earnest. Sam’s outburst had left me speechless. How did he know I hated the nicknamePheebs, except when my brother used it?
“Sorry,” Sam said, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “We should probably—”
He was starting to push himself up to his feet, but I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him to me instead, crushing my mouth against his. It didn’t start out as the most graceful kiss—I think I stabbed his cheek with my nose—but what it lacked in finesse it made up for in feeling.I mean it I mean it I mean it.
His hands were in my hair, cradling the back of my head as he deepened the kiss. But then he pulled away, and I saw his gaze dart nervously behind me. “Shit,” he said. “Conner and Shani, six o’clock. Or your twelve o’clock. I have no idea how this works.”
“I don’t care,” I said, and kissed him again. We were both getting rained on at this point, but I didn’t care about that, either.
I did manage to pull away and straighten my shirt—somehow, there was a warm imprint on my side in the exact shape of Sam’s hand—before Conner and Shani walked up. I wasn’t a total PDA psycho, although my brother of all people would deserve it after the tableaux of love he’d subjected all his social media followers to over the years.
“Get a room,” Conner said as they walked up, but he was grinning. He turned to Shani, reaching into the pocket of his cargo pants, and for a minute I worried that he was going to proposeright there, which would’ve been awkward. But instead he withdrew his wallet, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill and slapping it into Shani’s outstretched hand.
“You called it,” he said.
“Calledwhat?” I demanded, although it was pretty clear from the gleeful thumbs-up she gave me exactly what Conner had meant. This was why if I had my way, I wouldn’t tell themanything. To the extent I’d ever dreamed of my own wedding—which was approximately never—it had always been a courthouse affair for health insurance purposes where we told no one and continued to live in separate houses.
At least Conner wasn’t still freaking out about the proposal-that-didn’t-happen. He seemed back to his usual relaxed self as he started gathering all the food and putting it back in the cooler. The rain was coming down harder now, soaking through my shirt and plastering my hair to my cheeks, but Conner seemed to have no sense of urgency. Meanwhile, I was dying to get out of there for numerous reasons, only the least of which was the rain.
“Uh,” I said, “I’m probably just going to get a ride with Sam...”