By the time the weekend came, Sam hadn’t spent nearly enough time studying. Most of her free time had been consumed with replaying her conversation with Callum in her head, and she was somehow still utterly confused. He’d seemed nice and surprisingly interesting while talking about school and work, but had gone nuts at the mention of his family. She had worked with him once since then, and they hadn’t spoken a single word. Hadn’t even made eye contact. She’d tried to smile a few times when he walked by, but he’d never so much as looked her way.
Still, on Friday night when Kristin asked if Sam wanted to head to Micah’s for a party, Sam surprised them both when she immediately accepted the invitation. She hadn’t yet told Kristin that Callum fucking Barker was her boss, and she didn’t know if she would. That would add to the already awkward—though, admittedly, slightly intriguing—scenario she kept playing in her head.
Although she had never been to an actual party at Micah's, she had been there enough with Kristin over the last year to try and convince herself that she would be perfectly fine. If Callum was there, then maybe she could smooth things over with him again.
A part of her kept questioning why she even cared enough to want him not to hate her.
Why did his opinion of her matter so much?
Why had it consumed most of her thoughts over the last week?
She kept telling herself it was because he was her boss and the last thing she needed was a boss who hated her. But even she knew that wasn’t the full story.
When they arrived, she suddenly felt like perhaps this was a bad idea. She could hear the music from all the way across the parking lot.
Walking into the townhouse felt like a punch to her gut. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to run or if she would just vomit right there on the tattered welcome mat. There was a small sense of relief when she realized there were not nearly as many people as she had assumed would be here. For as loud as it was, she had definitely expected a larger crowd.
There were maybe ten people in the living room, but there was enough alcohol for fifty. That, she’d expected.
Then the smell hit her. It wasn’t the usual repugnant odor that screamed of far too many late night parties.
It was sharp, but enticing. It made her take a deep breath, and she felt the tension in her shoulders release as she exhaled.
It was peppermint.
“What is that smell?” Sam asked, knowing full well what it was but wondering the source.
“Some type of peppermint spray thing Callum came home with the other day. Said we needed to stop smelling like pigs.” Micah laughed. “And then he placed one of those in almost every room.” He pointed to a teardrop shaped container with a seemingly timed emission of fragrance. “It’s about to be summer, and he chooses a scent that is literally the definition of Christmas,” Micah said, shaking his head.
Sam couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.
Micah began introducing her to the others in the room while Kristin headed to the kitchen. By the fifth person, she realized she wasn’t taking in a word anyone was saying. She was pretty sure she had nodded appropriately during each introduction, but she couldn’t recall a single person's name. She was too busy focusing on the fact that Callum fucking Barker had bought and filled their home with the exact scent she liked to wear.
Maybe it was just a coincidence.
Maybe it meant absolutely nothing.
Maybe it meant absolutelyeverything.
She snapped out of it when they finally reached the kitchen, and made a promise to herself to try to remember the names of the next few people Micah brought her over to. Travis and Megan. They seemed okay. At least they spoke when they were introduced and she remembered the conversation. She was making progress. Then there was the blonde dude whose name Sam had already forgotten, and the girl wearing…was that a bathing suit?…didn’t even bother to look up at her. The rest just nodded in greeting and got back to whatever it was they’d been talking about.
“Well, shit. I didn’t think you would show. No textbooks need reading?” Callum called out as he approached from behind, his words coming out just a tad bit slurred.
“Not tonight,” she replied, trying to keep her tone even. She had hoped to somehow ease the tension between them, but now that he was in front of her, she didn’t even know what to say. She tried to come up with a comment about how nice the house smelled, but then realized she would sound completely insane if she voiced that aloud. She turned to head off into the kitchen just as bikini girl sat on Callum's lap.
That sight caused a flutter of unfamiliar emotions she refused to acknowledge to rush through her.
*******
Sam ended up spending most of the evening sitting on the back porch (thankfully, the smell of Christmas didn’t make it through the back door), drinking beers and tossing stories back and forth with Kristin, Travis, and Megan. Most of their tales consisted of happenings she had missed out on while basically living in that dungeon of a library. Some caused her to double over, clasping her stomach when all the laughing started to hurt.
“I didn’t know you would be here!” she heard Christian’s scream as he came from behind and jumped the deck railing to wrap his arms around her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she returned the hug.
Normally, they saw each other multiple times a week; whether it be for a study group, a quick lunch, coffee date, dinner, or just to sit on the couch and watch mindless TV to decompress from all the stress of life. But it had been almost a week since the last time they’d grabbed coffee. One of the longest times they had ever gone without seeing each other, save for that one time he’d been sent to a different foster home when they were seventeen. She’d cried for three days when he went away. Christian had stayed there for close to six months before returning to her town. In the time since, he hadn’t once spoken about his time at the other foster home, and she’d always assumed it had been one of the dreaded types of placements.
They’d never known what would await them from home to home. The horrors that some adults would inflict upon their foster kids; monsters only opening their homes in order to get that measly check in the mail once a month. So, after that first despondent week when he’d barely spoken and had outright refused to answer her