Chapter Text
One thing that Sam was still trying to get used to after moving to New York was the lack of calmness.
She had just finished her session with yet another therapist, it was past 10 PM, and the streets were still as busy as ever. There was no shortage of cars or people passing by her as she walked back to her apartment. Sometimes it could be overwhelming and she couldn’t get home fast enough. Sometimes it helped to keep her mind a little quieter.
Sam was still unsure of what it felt like today, maybe a mix of both.
Things haven’t been easy after everything that happened in Woodsboro, every day the weight on her shoulders worsens and she has no idea how to even start dealing with it. It only became worse after the rumors started.
The steps up the stairs to her apartment felt like a whole workout, after working the entire day Sam was absolutely drained. The hunch on her posture and faint dark bags under her eyes said as much.
Nearing the door, she could hear faint voices coming from inside, one of them she didn’t recognize. The tensing of her muscles was inevitable.
Sam turned the doorknob and slowly made her way inside, she closed the door behind her without turning around. There wasn’t anything different about the place — TV turned on, cheap yellow lights in the kitchen illuminating the dirty dishes on the sink, low music coming from Tara’s room — except Quinn was talking with someone on the couch.
Though Sam didn’t know who it was, she already relaxed at the fact that there was no trouble in sight.
She ran a hand through her hair whilst walking to the kitchen, there were leftovers of dinner on two pans over the stove; but despite only having lunch on her stomach, she wasn’t hungry. Picking up a clean cup, she filled it with water on the sink and gulped it down.
“Hey, Sam’s home,” Quinn announced with a chipper voice.
Sam closed her eyes with a sigh before managing a smile, she really didn’t feel like socializing right now. But she turned to Quinn anyway.
The girl was perched over the back of the couch, waving Sam over, “come here, I want you to meet someone.”
Involuntarily, Sam’s eyes drifted to the one who sat beside Quinn; it was a girl she had never seen before, but the gentle smile on her lips made Sam hesitate in her steps. She did walk up to them though, making herself comfortable on the loveseat beside Quinn.
“Sam, this is Y/n, she’s my sister,” Quinn motioned to you with a grin.
“Sister?” Sam’s eyes were huge as she looked between you and Quinn.
“Well, half-sister,” Quinn concluded, “it’s a long story.”
You then gave them a tight-lipped smile, raising your hand in an awkward wave whilst looking at Sam, “it’s uh- a pleasure to meet you.”
There were several question marks twirling around in Sam’s head, but the biggest one seemed to be why she found herself quite trapped in the way the images on the TV highlighted the lines of your jaw, cheeks, and lips. “I’m Samantha- Sam,” she stumbled out quickly.
Quinn raised her eyebrows in amusement, a beat of silence passed before she tilted her head towards Sam, “yep, that’s Samantha Sam.”
The older Carpenter kicked herself internally about ten thousand times. That was awful.
A weird weight filled the air after that. Sam didn’t know what to do with herself, she didn’t know if she should stay or just go and lock herself in her room. She ended up settling for pretending to watch the TV while you spoke with Quinn. From what Sam heard, you had just arrived in town and were staying in a hotel until you could find an apartment, because apparently, your mother had left a significant amount of money in your name; she also overheard that you were yet to go visit your father.
When it was nearing midnight, you decided to leave, saying something about it already being too late.
Sam watched as Quinn walked you to the door and bid you goodbye with a brief hug. And before the door clicked close, your gaze caught Sam’s and you gave her that same gentle smile she’d seen earlier; all the same, it froze her, and Sam saw herself just staring back at you with an emotion even she couldn’t place.
Quinn dragged herself back to the living room then, laying down on the empty couch to wait for the inevitable interrogation.
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Sam started eventually, mindlessly switching through channels. The room was dimly lit, with the only other lights coming from the kitchen, the brightness of the TV hurt her tired eyes.
“Neither did I.”
At that, Sam’s attention was fully on Quinn, her brows furrowed.
Quinn shook her head, dismissing the worry, “I mean, I knew, sort of,” she explained, “she’s from a fling my dad had before he met my mom, I think they broke up when she was born and her mom took her to Boston. Never met her until like, yesterday.”
Now, the pieces from what Sam had heard were starting to come together. She wondered just how detached you were from this side of your family until now. “And your father never told you had a sister?”
“He did, in passing, sometimes I heard the calls he’d give her to check in. But she’s always been distant,” Quinn shrugged.
Sam mulled over the words in her mind, part of her couldn’t help but feel wary, “why is she here?”
“Her mother died, she has no other family left.”
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵
It didn’t take long for Sam to bump into you again. It happened actually only two days after your visit to Quinn at their apartment.
It was a mildly calm afternoon at the coffee shop Sam worked at. At least for a Thursday, it felt calm. Just a few booths had people sitting on them, and every few minutes someone would stop by to grab a cup of coffee to go.
What the place lacked in fanciness it made up for in coziness — between her shifts here during the week and at the bowling alley on the weekends, it was easy for Sam to pick a favorite, nothing beats the vibe of a coffee shop — the place held warm tones to its decor, brick walls here and there with a few black boards hung up that had order choices written on them with white chalk; there was also a vintage radio on the corner that Sam always sneakily changed the songs of.
Against her own beliefs, she became rather good at preparing lattes and cappuccinos. She mentioned it to Tara once, and the girl said she’d believe it once she drinks it; Sam has been waiting for her to stop by.
Though as with everything, it wasn’t perfect. Even before the rumors blaming her for the murders started, Sam was already an outsider, not quite allowed to fit in. She had no friends amongst the staff, only colleagues; and after the rumors, she even considered that to be a stretch.
Sam doesn’t mind. She tells herself as much every day before walking in for work. But feeling judgemental eyes burning into your back at least once a day tends to take its toll on someone.
So she keeps to herself, she does her job, and she tries not to give them more reasons to bother her.
The small bell above the door dinged as someone came in, pulling Sam back to the present when she realized she would be the one taking the order.
She straightened her posture and smoothed down her uniform, looking around on the counter for her notepad and pen. Upon finding them, Sam finally glanced up and felt her breathing get momentarily stuck, the usual ‘what can I get for you’ dying on her tongue.
Part of Sam thinks she’d ironically recognize you anywhere. She realized you had that about you, something that felt unmistakable.
Same thing that happened to her apparently happened to you as well, as your lips hovered yet no words came out. It was that weird moment of I know you but I don’t actually know you yet.
You were the first to talk, and Sam wanted to thank you for it. “Hey,” you chuckled, somewhat awkwardly, “it’s uh- Sam, right? It’s nice to see you again.”
Try as she might, Sam wasn’t able to hold your gaze, she glanced down at her hands before looking at you again, “that’s me,” she gave you a small smile, “can I get you anything?”
“Yeah…” You dragged on, stuffing your hands on the pockets of your jeans as your gaze skimmed over the order options, “just a simple cappuccino to go, please.” You eventually decided.
Sam felt your eyes on her as she scribbled your order down, even if it was just a cappuccino, she had the habit to write them all down. “Coming right up,” she said, before turning around to make your order.
Ever since she started working here, she has probably made more than a hundred cappuccinos; yet she found herself checking things twice over. Espresso, steamed milk, foam. Everything carefully poured down on the cup.
You were standing right where she left you once she brought the order to you. That same gentle smile she saw two nights ago was present on your lips when you paid her and bid her goodbye.
Secretly, Sam wondered if you’d be back some other day.
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵
It was never your plan to come to New York, let alone on your own. But tragedy strikes when you least expect it.
When, on one of his monthly calls to check in on you, you broke the news to your father that your mother had passed, he told you you should come live closer to him if you wanted to. And honestly, not feeling so alone in the world felt appealing.
So you packed everything you had of value, and took the leap. You had your mother to thank for being able to simply do that out of nowhere, she’d left everything of hers in your name, including her company’s income.
But money hardly solves all problems, because you never actually met your father’s side of the family. All you had were his phone calls, where he would sometimes briefly mention a sister you’d get along with if you were to meet, and not much else.
Upon knowing you’d be coming to the city, he gave you Quinn’s contact, promising she would help you find a place to stay. You weren’t exactly keen on meeting your sister for the first time all by yourself, but Quinn had been surprisingly easygoing; telling you all about how cool it was to have a sister instead of another brother. And the question 'I have a brother too?’ lingered on your tongue, but you thought it would be a weird thing to ask. That was a few days ago, and you settled in a hotel for the time being.
In any way, you had a lot of catching up to do.
And now, anxiety was bubbling relentlessly in your stomach and you clutched tightly at the straps of your backpack. The police station was kinda busy at this time of day, but it was exactly the time he asked you to come in, so you did.
You didn’t know exactly what to feel other than anxiety. How is one supposed to feel when they’re about to see their father for the first time in their life?
It’s a weird situation, though you couldn’t really blame your mother for it; yes she took you away shortly after you were born, but from what she told you, she and your father didn’t end on the best of terms. From the moment you were born, she’d been protective.
You reached the front desk, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. “Hello,” you greeted the woman there.
She glanced up from the pile of papers she’d been sorting out, “hi there, what can I do for you?”
“Um- Detective Bailey asked me to stop by,” you explained, and the woman in front of you raised an unamused eyebrow. Even before saying it, the words already felt somewhat strange in your mouth, “he’s my father.”
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵
Your first two weeks in New York were hectic. Meeting a whole new side of your family was a strange experience, but you’d say it went well. Quinn was the easiest of all, she treated you as if you were one of her friends from university and you appreciated it. Ethan was distant, he was kind and polite, but you could tell he didn’t want much to do with you. Your father was, essentially, what you expected him to be; he was kind and attentive, obviously a little awkward just as you were, but he seemed to genuinely care about you; as much as one can care about a daughter they’d never met.
Quinn had been quite insistent on having a sister bonding time with you, so you’d find yourself at her apartment more often than not. This led to you being acquainted with Mindy, Anika, and Chad, who were around just as much as you; plus Sam and Tara, of course.
The youngest of Quinn’s roommates took an instant liking to you. Your personality matched Tara’s quite well, you were happy to hear every gossip she liked the share about her colleagues at the university and the usual rant about her sister.
Sam, she was not an easy one to read; at first, you thought she might not even like you, but Tara explained that 'that’s just how she is, she’ll warm up to you eventually’.
Maybe that was part of the reason why you found yourself creating a habit of stopping by a certain coffee shop — after all, they served delicious food and drinks and the place was really cozy; the doe-eyed brunette who worked there was a bonus.
You’d usually stop by later on in the afternoon, when the sunlight had that deep golden glow just an hour or so before disappearing behind the horizon. It was a time of day the coffee shop was a little more crowded, but not as much as it was in the mornings.
Every time you walked in, you found yourself involuntarily looking for Sam; deep down feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush because of the butterflies that invaded your stomach whenever she remembered your order.
You quickly realized the importance of details with Sam. The more you came to eat at the coffee shop, the slightly more comfortable she became with you. It started with her serious expression changing to a small smile whenever she saw you, then she started greeting you by your name, and recently, she has been drawing little smiley faces on your cup.
The usual booth you’d sit at was tucked in a more reserved corner, just beside one of the windows; you liked the privacy. Each time that Sam brought your cappuccino and apple pie, you held yourself back from asking if she could sit down and have a coffee with you.
Maybe tomorrow, you’d think to yourself.
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵
The smell of freshly made lasagna filled the whole apartment. If you had a good enough sense of smell, you’d be able to tell it was just the slightest bit burned, but no one seemed to care.
Mindy and Chad could be heard bickering about how to properly take said lasagna out of the oven without causing a disaster, Tara was opening up a cheap wine bottle while Anika set the dining table, and Quinn was switching through channels on the TV.
It was a pleasant sight for someone who wasn’t used to many of those.
Sam had just gotten out of the shower, towel in her hands as she finished drying off her hair. She had managed to get out of work earlier today and ditched therapy so she could have dinner with her found family — which honestly felt more like therapy than actual therapy.
A chuckle escaped Sam’s lips when Mindy called her brother a moron with a halfhearted slap on the back of his head.
And then, three soft knocks came from the front door.
“I got it,” Sam told them, hanging her towel over her shoulder as she got over to the door and steadily undid all the locks in it. She knew who it was, Quinn warned you’d be coming for dinner today too. Sam felt a little childish when anticipation started twirling in her stomach.
Selfishly, Sam wanted to think that this specific smile of yours belonged to her.
“Hi,” she greeted you with the same softness you stared back at her with; for the second time today, the first being at the coffee shop. Sam figured she wouldn’t mind seeing you more often, “come in, dinner is almost ready.”
“Hey Sam,” you smiled timidly as you walked past her and inside the apartment.
Sam has known you for a little over two weeks, and there should be alarms blaring inside her head for the way she felt so naturally drawn to you. But there wasn’t, there was only the softness of your presence and the way she wanted to drown in it.
“Hey new girl,” Mindy called, her voice ringing loudly through the room as she peeked over from the kitchen with a grin, “you like lasagna?”
“Of course,” you grinned, taking off your jacket and failing to see the way Sam’s gaze lingered a little too long on you, “who doesn’t like lasagna?”
Mindy pointed a finger at you, “right answer,” she quipped before disappearing back into the kitchen.
Sam awkwardly cleared her throat next to you, “let me take this for you.”
You glanced beside you to see the girl subtly gesturing for your jacket, unsure if the redness of her cheeks was a trick of the light or not. “Oh, thanks, Sam.”
“Alright y'all, dinner’s on the table,” Mindy announced, getting everyone to flock to the dining room.
It was maybe after the second or third time you’d stopped by that you had unconsciously assigned a seat for yourself at their table. Ironically, it was the one beside Sam.
If you were being honest with yourself, you had a lot to thank this peculiar group of friends; if it wasn’t for all the laughs they managed to pull out of you at each dinner, maybe settling in on the new city wouldn’t have gone so smoothly. They sure took away the feeling of loneliness that had been steadily collecting in your chest ever since your mother passed.
And you had found a reason to like every single one of them; Mindy was naturally funny and made you feel as welcome as if you’d known her your whole life, and so did Anika; Chad was the exact opposite of what you’d picture him to be, sharing his sister’s tendency for kindness; Sam was… you couldn’t find a word to describe her quite yet, maybe entrancing could work; and Tara, well, you’d just found out tonight she shared your penchant for horror movies.
That’s how, after dinner, you found yourself laying with Tara on her bed as you watched a movie of her choosing.
“You know, I’m glad you decided to come to New York,” Tara told you out of the blue, the sound coming from her TV almost covering her voice.
Her room was dimly lit, the only source of light being the TV itself and a small lamp on her desk, you could barely make out her features. “I am too, I’m sure glad I met you guys.”
Tara chuckled fondly at that, “Sam seems to like you,” she told you quietly, her voice sounding as if she was letting you in on a pretty secret, “she could use a friend, you know.”
You caught the hidden words in her soft tone. You weren’t blind to how lonely Sam tended to be sometimes. Isolating herself even in a room full of people who cared about her.
Though it stunned you for a brief moment that Tara was asking that of you, you wondered if she saw something you didn’t. At this point, you already knew of their story, at least partially; from articles online about the Woodsboro killings, and consequently, from the rumors circling around about Sam. Needless to say, your heart broke for them.
“I’d be happy to be her friend, if she’d have me,” you meant it.
The movie extended longer than you predicted and Tara was already dozing off on your shoulder by the time the credits rolled. So you carefully turned off her TV and sneaked yourself out of her bed, your steps as light as a feather touching the floor.
You closed the door to her room with extreme delicacy and only as you turned around, did you notice the absolute darkness of the rest of the apartment.
It looked like everyone had already called it a night.
The only thing illuminating your steps was the soft orange glow coming in through the windows from the street lamps outside. The apartment held an eery silence to it, the clean plates and cutlery you all had used earlier rested on top of the table, there was an occasional sound of water droplets falling from the kitchen sink, and the red numbers of the clock on the coffee table read 12:37 AM.
The darkness and silence were a striking contrast to the commotion from earlier.
You opted for turning on the lights in the kitchen so you could look for your jacket and go home for the night; though after a good five minutes of unsuccessful searching you were almost considering leaving without it. That’s when a soft, barely there whimper caught your ears.
It got a cold shiver running up and down your back, momentarily making you imagine yourself in a horror movie.
Until your eyes landed on the bigger couch of the living room and you saw Sam; she was curled up there, fast asleep with her hands under her head and knees tucked up to her chest, looking much smaller than she actually was, just barely being highlighted by the kitchen light.
You couldn’t help the swelling of your heart. She was undeniably endearing.
There was the sound of a siren passing by in the distance. You looked out the window by instinct, but you couldn’t see where exactly it came from.
When your eyes settled back on Sam, you found her clutching at the cushions under her head, a frown etched unpleasantly on her eyebrows. Her hair was messy, you realized; maybe from tossing and turning too much.
You were genuinely not sure what got into you, it’s not like you have enough intimacy to even be seeing her like this. But you crouched down in front of her, one hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder.
Before you could even fully touch her, Sam was already stirring awake. Her body was visibly tense and her eyes a tad too wide and alert for someone who just woke up.
“I'm… sorry,” you said quietly, feeling embarrassment crawling up your neck and to your cheeks, “sorry I woke you up.”
Sam held herself up with her elbow, her free hand running through her messy hair. She wasn’t looking at you, attempting to regulate her unsteady breathing.
You could see it from the way her chest moved up and down quickly. And there you followed a single drop of sweat running down from her neck to her collarbone. The night was far too cold for her to be sweating.
You wanted to reach out, but didn’t. “I was just wondering where you put my jacket,” you continued when she remained quiet.
Sam felt bare in front of you, somewhat timid. There were goosebumps rising on her skin. She nearly didn’t find her voice, “I’ll go get it for you.”
You waited for her by the front door, shifting on your feet. She came back with your jacket in her hands, clutching tightly onto it so you wouldn’t catch the shaking of her fingers. But you did, you also caught onto the hollowness of her eyes and the hair clinging to her damp forehead. You knew it wasn’t your place to ask, but Sam looked so alone in the darkness of the apartment, that you feared she might let herself be swallowed by it the moment you leave.
“Are you okay?”
Sam’s expression did something complicated, unsure of how to feel. Several beats passed in silence, as if she was considering how to answer you. Eventually, she nodded softly, “I’m alright, just tired from work.”
It was a half-truth. You had been there today when a group of teenagers came into the coffee shop, one of them casting accusatory glances at Sam as he whispered — quite loudly — the word 'murderer’ to his friends. You weren’t able to wave her goodbye after that. She stayed hidden in the back.
Maybe your heart felt something it wasn’t telling you yet, because it was hurting, for her. “For what it’s worth,” the words rolled off your tongue in a soft whisper, “I don’t believe them.”
Sam’s lips parted, her mouth going dry and her doe eyes glinting with a sudden vulnerability. The grip she had around your jacket tightened.
Your smile was bittersweet this time, “the rumors, I don’t believe them.”
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵
“I don’t think I see you,” you spoke on the phone, squinting at the evening sun shining on your eyes as you walked the busy streets of New York.
Last night your father had called you just before he left the police station, asking if maybe you would like to have an afternoon snack with him today; stop by at a popular bakery to catch up on lost time.
You felt an unfamiliar warmth on your chest at the request, agreeing promptly. He was trying to form a connection with you, and honestly, it was something you wanted too. You already lost one parent, you didn’t fancy losing the other.
“I see you.”
He spoke over the phone.
“Look to your right.”
You followed his instructions and sure enough, he was on the other side of the street, his arms up and obnoxiously waving you over so you’d see him.
A chuckle escaped you as you hurriedly crossed the street, tucking your phone into the back pocket of your jeans. You smiled tentatively then, slowly closing the distance between you and him without knowing if you should lean in for a hug or extend your hand for a shake.
Bailey decided for you, he was opening his arms before you even reached him.
The hug was brief but welcomed. He kept one hand on your shoulder when he pulled away, seemingly taking a good look at you as a sincere smile appeared on his expression; “thank you for coming, I know we’ve never been too close, but I would like us to be.”
You reached up to the hand he still had on your shoulder and squeezed his wrist in reassurance, “I would like it too.”
That was enough to cut through the awkward bits of tension still lingering between you. Part of you felt like you were fifteen again, giddy for having your father dedicate a whole afternoon for you and you only.
It didn’t make the pain of losing your mother go away, but it engulfed it into something more bearable. Something you could get used to.
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵
It was about an hour after lunch that Sam received a rather urgent call from Tara. The only words she managed to focus on were “asthma attack” and “inhaler at the apartment.”
The problem? Sam was basically on the other side of town.
Her first option was Mindy, but the girl wasn’t picking up her phone. And then neither was Chad. Her last resort was calling her own apartment in the hopes that Quinn was home and could drive to the university with Tara’s inhaler.
The line ringed, and ringed, and ringed. Until…
“Hello?”
The thought about why she recognized your voice so easily flew by. “Y/n?” Sam stopped in her tracks, forcing the other people on the sidewalk to walk around her.
“Sam?”
“What are you-”
“No, I didn’t break into your apartment.”
Sam heard your chuckle from the other end of the line.
“I stopped by to bring something to Quinn.”
“Y/n, I need you to-” Sam took in a deep breath, running a hand through her hair and gripping at the roots of it. She closed her eyes tightly, “Tara is having an asthma attack and she left her inhaler at the apartment, could you ask Quinn to-”
“Sam, calm down.”
Your soft voice made Sam realize she was having trouble breathing.
“Breathe, okay? I’ll take it to her, I’m less than five minutes away by bike, I’ll let you know when I get there.”
Sam bit at the inside of her cheek, nodding even though you couldn’t see it, “thank you.”
Only mere minutes passed by — though they felt much longer than usual — until Sam received a text from you, it read 'hey’ and she could see you were still typing.
Sam held onto her breath and only released it once you sent her the next text, which read 'all is good’. Instant relief washed over her and she leaned back on the wall of the random store she was standing in front of.
Her cellphone vibrated again, and this time it was a picture of you and Tara making silly faces while you held her close.
The smile that came to Sam’s lips was as big as ever, her heart beating painfully against her ribs as if it was trying to leap from her chest and into the screen of her phone; all so it could reach you.
Sam typed back; 'I owe you one.’
She held back on sending a heart emoji.
It was becoming increasingly harder to deny the way she started feeling about you; how you seemingly occupied a place in her heart no one else could have; or how she hoped to see you walk into the coffee shop every day, because, on the off chance you didn’t, something felt out of place, missing.
Maybe it was time for her to do something about it.
And the opportunity presented itself on the very next day.
It was a cloudy Tuesday afternoon, the coffee shop lacking its usual golden rays that came through the window at this time of day. There was a slightly colder breeze in the air, it came through each time a new customer opened the door and it forced Sam to wear her jacket on top of her uniform.
Sam had been anticipating your arrival ever since the clock hit 4 PM, which was the time you usually stopped by. She couldn’t help looking up at the door each time she heard the bell above it.
It scared her, to take a chance like this. Trusting people with your heart only opens room for them to break it. She knows it.
But oh you made her want to turn a blind eye to every single risk, and fear, and doubt.
Sam wondered, for a moment, if destiny was playing with her. Because when the clock hit 4:47 PM you walked through the coffee shop’s doors and the sky just so happened to have a crack in its clouds, casting a faded glow that bathed you aureate for a moment.
Sam’s eyes were unfocused, caught in a daze that was only broken when you were already standing in front of her.
“Good afternoon, Sam,” you smiled, your cheeks flushed from the cold wind outside.
“Hi,” Sam stumbled out, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she cleared her throat, “the usual?”
“Please,” you confirmed, already reaching inside your backpack for your wallet, but Sam’s hand on your forearm stopped you.
The touch of her skin on yours felt electric. Sam pulled her hand back quickly, timidly curling her fingers to try and keep the feeling of you a little longer. “This one is on me,” her voice wasn’t nearly as confident as it needed to be for that line.
You were about to open your mouth to protest, but she beat you to it; “please, let me do this. As a thank you for you helping Tara yesterday.”
A sly smile crept into your lips, your eyes roaming over Sam up and down before you spoke; “only if you drink something with me.”
Your boldness surprised Sam, in the best of ways. She was burning up inside, her heart working overtime to keep up with her feelings. Despite the cold, she felt suddenly warm.
“I have a break in ten.”
When Sam brought your order to your table — the usual table in the far right corner near the biggest window — she sat down in front of you. She carefully placed down your cappuccino and apple pie before closing both her hands around the simple cup of coffee she had for herself.
You took your time with taking a sip from your drink, closing your eyes when the slightly sweet, warm beverage hit your tongue.
Sam followed each movement, from the way your fingers closed around the mug to the way the corner of your lips lifted just the smallest bit after tasting the coffee she made — for a moment you were all she could see. Though she shook herself off of it pretty quickly, realizing how it might be creepy. Sam took a generous drink of her coffee as well.
“Do you like it?” Came the sudden sweetness of your voice, “working at a coffee shop?”
A faint smell of burnt bread reached Sam’s nose, it was probably Enrique forgetting about the oven again. She could hear loud chatter happening at the entrance of the coffee shop, it was probably the five students who usually stopped by at this time of day. Sam was hesitating. Between apartment visits because of Quinn and everyday meet-ups for her to make you coffee, Sam didn’t plan for herself coming this far with you.
“Could be worse,” were the words that eventually escaped her mouth, “beats the bowling alley.”
You chuckled, a lovely sound as you sheepishly glanced down, your thumb tracing the edge of your mug. Sam wanted to pull her cell phone out and trap this moment in time; it felt precious enough to do so.
“I definitely prefer coming to coffee shops instead of bowling alleys,” you smirked.
Sam somewhat mimicked your smile, “are you liking New York?”
You hummed, choosing to take a bite of your pie before answering, “all things considered, I am. It’s a lot of getting used to,” you had a faraway gaze out the window then, leaning your chin on your hand, “meeting a whole new side of my family is… strange. But we’re getting along surprisingly well, I’ve been going out with my father at least once a week, Ethan is more distant but still nice whenever we meet, and, well, I’ve been visiting Quinn quite regularly, as you know.”
Sam took in each of your words, softly nodding along, “it’s good one of us is feeling at home, sort of.” She gulped, mulling over her next words, “you know you’re welcome at the apartment whenever. Tara adores you… everyone does.”
If you caught Sam’s 'I adore you’ you didn’t comment on it. Instead, you asked; “how are you settling in? Tara mentioned you guys moved in only a few weeks before I did.”
That had Sam holding back a sigh. She leaned back on her side of the booth, “feels like all the shit that happened in Woodsboro followed us all the way here.”
Some days were better than others. Some days the weight on her shoulders felt more bearable and the people around her weren’t as menacing with their baseless accusations. Some days were worse.
“I’m sorry about everything that’s been going on the internet about you,” you said.
Sam met your eyes and found there a gentleness no one had ever looked at her with.
“You don’t deserve it, Sam.”
Being with you was as easy as breathing. For a fleeting moment inside the walls of the coffee shop, there were no rumors crucifying Sam for something she didn’t do; there were no bad memories taking her sleep at night; there were no permanent scars marking her skin — there was only Samantha, the girl who had almost forgotten what it felt like to just worry about which words to say next to impress the girl she developed feelings for.
And if she went to bed that night with the ghost of a smile on her lips because you kissed her cheek goodbye earlier, that was nobody’s business but hers.
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵
“Guys, what do you say we order pizza for tonight?” Sam threw the idea into the night.
It was nearing 7 PM and it was a Saturday, meaning it was the unofficial girl’s night of the week. Sam, Mindy, Anika, Tara, and Quinn sat together in the living room of Sam’s apartment watching a random action movie. Dinner time was nearing and none of them really fancied cooking tonight.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Mindy agreed, leaning back on the couch and pulling Anika with her, “do you think one is enough for the five of us?”
“Six,” Sam spoke without looking up from her phone, already searching for the pizza place’s number, “I invited Y/n over.”
Save for the movie playing in the background, there was a sudden silence in the living room. It stretched on until Sam found the number and looked up to see everyone staring at her.
A frown slowly came to her eyebrows and she chuckled awkwardly, fidgeting with her phone, “what?”
“You invited her?” Quinn started.
“You two have been growing quite close,” Mindy added, an all-too-knowing grin on her lips.
Tara had her lips hung open, being the last one to catch up on her sister’s painfully obvious crush.
“We're… friends, she’s nice,” Sam shrugged, feeling herself grow self-conscious with the attention and involuntarily curling in on herself a little. She got up from the couch then, deciding to go make the call to order the pizza outside in the hallway as she figured she wouldn’t have much peace inside right now.
She put on her house slippers and walked to the front door, hearing Mindy shout; “I’ve heard that before,” right as she closed the door behind her.
Sam found herself slowly roaming to the lobby as she spoke on the phone, a cold air came from the entrance doors of her apartment building as she spoke on the phone, making her hug herself to preserve the warmth.
The pizza would be arriving in about thirty minutes, and just before Sam turned around to walk back inside to the coziness of her apartment, her cell phone dinged with a message from you letting her know you were here.
Sam saw herself smiling at the screen of her phone, at the small heart emoji you added beside the text.
The main doors of the entrance hall hinged as you walked in, and the first thing Sam noticed was that you were quite underdressed for the weather outside; only a thin jacket kept your body warm, your hair was all tousled from the wind and you had your hands buried in the pockets of your sweatpants. Still, you smiled brightly when you spotted Sam coming towards you.
“Aren’t you cold?” Sam chuckled as she met you in the middle, coming to a stop a little closer to you than she should. Her eyes involuntarily roamed up and down your body, always engraving the image of you in her mind as if it was the first and last time she’d be seeing you; even if she has known you for nearly two months now.
“You bet I’m cold,” without much of a warning, you brought one hand up and cupped Sam’s cheek; the coldness of your skin contrasted with the warmth of hers.
Sam shivered from head to toe, and it wasn’t because of the coldness of your fingers, for she could feel her cheeks warming up even more.
Unable to hold your gaze as she did so, Sam took hold of your freezing hand, “come on, let’s get you warmed up. I ordered pizza.”
You followed her willingly, nuzzling against her shoulder as you walked.
You’re both not sure when this newfound intimacy happened. But you weren’t complaining. Your heart was so full of Sam that you could hardly call it your own anymore. And Sam doesn’t know what happiness means if it isn’t written with the letters of your name.
Though it wasn’t until a whole week later, that you did something about it.
This Friday was a rainy one, the skies had grey clouds looming over everyone on the streets as heavy raindrops fell steadily. Water splashed around people’s shoes as they walked, holding their coats close to their bodies and their umbrellas above their heads.
Sam didn’t have an umbrella. She’d given hers to Tara this morning because technically she wouldn’t need it, she’d catch a ride with one of the nicer coworkers at the coffee shop when it was time to leave.
Sam was walking in the rain.
She never made it to 7 PM, which was usually the time she’d get off work. Her boss had dismissed her much earlier today; 'it doesn’t look good to have a barista covered in coffee’ was what he’d said.
Now, the huge coffee stain on her shirt was barely there, being replaced by the water falling from the sky. The pouring rain had already soaked through Sam’s clothing; it trickled down her chin and made her hair stuck to her forehead. It was cold, she was shaking, and her fingers were becoming numb.
Today had been one of those unfortunate days. It was a group of teenagers, Sam can’t exactly remember what they looked like; she had been the one to bring their orders to the table, and when their eyes met hers she could instantly see the hatred there. Various false accusations left their lips as one of them 'accidentally’ spilled their coffee all over Sam. Today wasn’t a good day.
Sam didn’t know where she was going to, she was almost sure she was walking in the complete opposite direction of her apartment. She didn’t stop, keeping her head low in hopes the rain would completely engulf her being.
“Sam?” The call of her name sounded like a hallucination at first. Too sweet, and too far away to be real.
“Sam!” Now it was closer, clearer between the heavy raindrops hitting the pavement.
It made Sam look up, one hand brushing over her eyes to clean the rain stuck to her lashes. Instantly, she forgot how to breathe.
You were coming towards her, one hand holding your coat and the other holding a faded pink umbrella above your head. You looked distressed, there was a frown on your eyebrows that Sam wanted to smooth away with her fingers.
Between the smell of coffee on her shirt and the rain on her skin, Sam had forgotten this was the time you usually came to the coffee shop.
Sam was suddenly shielded from the falling rain. You had to stay close so your umbrella would cover both of you. “Sam…” Your tone was sorrowful as your evident worry escaped you, “what are you doing out here like this? What happened?” You looked her up and down, taking in her purplish fingertips, her soaked clothes and hair, and the barely there coffee stain of her shirt.
The image of you in front of Sam started to blur over; she opened her lips to speak, tasting the raindrops there, yet the words were clogged up on the lump in her throat. A feeling of shame was crawling inside her guts, piercing through her heart for having you see her like this. Sam avoided your eyes, focusing on her boots instead.
Your sneakers inched closer and Sam felt your gentle fingers pushing away strands of her wet hair; the softness of your touch amidst all the harshness she was used to nearly made her crumble.
“Did someone do this to you?” You asked even softer.
Another beat of silence, and then; “I don’t know why they hate me so much.” Was all Sam told you, her voice nothing but a whisper that broke in the middle.
In the same heartbeat, with the hand that wasn’t holding your umbrella, you took hold of Sam’s waist, pulling her body close to yours in a warm embrace.
Sam clung to you as if you’d vanish into thin air any minute. Both her arms instantly came around your shoulders in a close-knit grip as she bunched the fabric of your coat between her fingers.
You adjusted your hold around her waist, mimicking the same strength she held you with. Part of you knew she needed to feel that kind of reassuring pressure, shielding her away from reality.
Her body was worryingly cold, the wetness of her clothes was seeping into your own but you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind. Because Sam buried her head into the crook of your neck and you could feel steady wet drops falling into your skin, and you knew they weren’t from the rain.
Sam’s sobs were muffled against you. And as her body trembled in your hold, your heart shattered.
“Let me take you home,” you whispered, your lips brushing the skin of her shoulder until you placed a kiss there.
Sam’s grip on you tightened, bringing your bodies closer together if that was even possible. “Okay.”
And you did take her home. Sam only didn’t imagine that when you said home, you meant your apartment, not hers.
To say your place was better than Sam’s would be an understatement. Your apartment wasn’t overly luxurious, but it was evident that it was expensive.
Admittedly, Sam felt out of place. Not necessarily in a bad way; only in the way that you were clearly much better off in life than she was, and it made her feel a little self-conscious to think she’d been fantasizing about a chance with you, when, admittedly, you could do better.
You let go of your umbrella but kept holding onto Sam’s hand, leading her to your bedroom, “come on, let’s get you some dry clothes.”
Your bedroom was the most 'you’ room in the house. There was a double bed in the middle, a dresser, a desk with a computer and a whole lot of other things on top — books, a collection of pens, a couple of sketchbooks, small fantasy figures such as soldiers on horses and dragons — a mirror just beside the dresser, a bookshelf, and several pictures and fairy lights stuck to the walls. Everywhere Sam looked, there was a bit of you.
She hovered in the middle of it all, shaking from head to toe because of how cold her body was, and hyper-aware of the water still dripping from her soaked clothes and into the wooden floor.
You rummaged through your dresser until you found a comfy pair of purple sweatpants and a hoodie of the same color. You handed them to Sam, “the bathroom is just down the hall, feel free to take a shower and warm yourself up okay? I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Sam gulped down the lump still stuck in her throat, nodding along with your words, “thank you, you didn’t have to do all this,” her voice still held that same rawness to it, though the corner of her lips quirked up.
You let out a breathy chuckle, tilting your head to the side as if she just spoke a foreign language. “Yeah I did, that’s what people do when they care about each other.”
Under the warm orange glow of the fairy lights of your bedroom, Sam could count the specks of color in your eyes. She could drown in the ocean that was you and everything you made her feel.
Sometimes, you look at each other as if you’re about to kiss.
Sam wondered if it was the same for you when she caught your eyes drifting to her lips. Before she could figure it out, you were sheepishly avoiding her eyes and walking off to the kitchen.
When Sam walked out of the bathroom, her skin now warm and her hair with the smell of your shampoo, you had just finished making two mugs of hot chocolate.
You heard her bare feet approaching you, felt her lingering gaze on your back. You could tell Sam wasn’t allowing herself to be completely comfortable here yet. You hoped to change that.
Turning around, you were met with the endearing sight of Sam in your clothes, her hair still damp and cheeks now flushed from the hot water of the shower. She looked like your favorite dream.
You walked up to her, handing her one of the mugs, “now it’s my turn to serve you,” you winked.
Sam closed both hands around the mug, an inevitable chuckle escaping her.
You leaned back on the counter of your kitchen, hearing the rain that still poured outside hitting the windows. “Feeling better?”
Before answering, Sam took a sip of her hot chocolate, humming at the sweetness and warmth of it. “Much better.”
“You can stay as long as you’d like,” you told her, because you knew she needed to hear it.
Sam’s thumb traced the rim of her mug. You could see her lips pulling thin, feel her uneasiness.
“I would like you to stay, Sam.”
Thunder started rumbling in the distance as the rain picked up even more. Sam would be stuck with you for a while; maybe you should make the most of having her all to yourself.
You put down your mug and pushed yourself away from the kitchen counter. Sam could be fragile sometimes, you realized; there was a part of her that always remained guarded, waiting for the next blow to come. Yet you could almost feel the desperate calls of her lonely heart.
When you took a step closer to her, Sam didn’t take one away from you, and it was all the confirmation you needed. She had a white-knuckled grip on her mug, though it relaxed immediately when your hand enveloped hers and you took the mug, putting it aside on the counter.
Sam was holding herself as stiff as a corpse; if you were anyone else, she would have taken her chance already, but you were you, and the fear that she might fuck it up spoke louder. Her eyes followed each of your movements though, her pupils blown wide and reflecting the vulnerability of a heart that started beating for you, for you, for you.
Both your hands eventually reached up to her cheeks, your fingers tracing her jaw and your thumbs brushing the skin beneath her eyes.
Inevitably, Sam melted in your hold, a breath leaving her lips as she closed her eyes for a beat. No one ever held her as if she was something precious. You always did.
First, your lips met her forehead in a kiss that felt like a promise. Then, your nose brushed hers when you leaned in; your breaths mingling as your hands found the back of her neck to pull her in.
You were gentle, so much so that Sam hardly felt your lips. You guided her into a chaste kiss, just a touch of your soft lips that fitted perfectly with hers. So perfectly, she’d dare say you were made just for her.
Small as it was, the gesture of affection got Sam grasping at your waist; her hands holding onto you with the same desperation as before. As if happiness, for her, was limited.
Sam didn’t dare open her eyes when you pulled back. It was foolish, but she wanted to utter those three words just for the fact that you didn’t go far, choosing to keep your forehead leaning against hers.
“Are you sure?” The words stumbled out of Sam’s lips in an unsteady whisper as she took to memory what it felt like to have you this close.
You pulled away and she felt like crying.
It was only enough so you could look into her eyes, and there you saw everything she didn’t want you to see. In those dark doe eyes that shone with the dim lights of your kitchen; you saw her fear, her loneliness; you saw the way she thought of herself as a person who doesn’t deserve to be taken out of the rain, but who longs for someone to do so anyway.
“More than I’ve ever been in my life,” you whispered back, pulling her in before you even finished speaking. You clashed your lips together, not holding back this time, because if she didn’t believe your words, she would believe your touch; she would believe the way your hands tangled in her hair and how your tongue brushed over her bottom lip, tasting the lingering sweetness of hot chocolate there.
Yet, between each breathless kiss, you’d mumble, “I promise.”
And Sam would hold you more firmly, her arms encircling your waist as she traced a path down your neck with her lips, confessions rolling off her tongue.
You had her at your mercy; she was yours. But you were hers too.
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵
It’s been fifteen minutes already. Fifteen minutes of Sam glaring at her phone as if it would relent and type the message for her.
“Sammy, this is getting sad,” Mindy popped a popcorn in her mouth, side-eyeing Sam’s figure; who was huddled in a blanket on the couch beside hers, “just ask her already.”
“Yeah, I will,” Sam groaned, hugging her blanket closer to her chest, “just… finding the right words.”
“The words are: 'do you want to go on a date with me? Yes or no?’ Simple.” A popcorn flew in Sam’s direction as Mindy explained, “stop making a big deal of it, it’s not like you guys never went out together anyway.”
Sam pursed her lips, staring at the little picture of you in her contacts. It’s true, you’ve met for outings multiple times already; but there was something more now, an incessant swarm of butterflies in her stomach whenever Sam thought of you.
“It’s different,” she said quietly, “I don’t wanna mess it up.” Her vulnerability dripped from each syllable.
Mindy softened at that, forgetting about the movie playing on the TV and properly turning to look at her friend; “you won’t mess it up, Sam. She likes you, everyone can see it.”
It felt nice to hear the words out loud, it made them all the more real — as if your make-out session from a few days ago wasn’t enough. Sam could feel her cheeks growing warmer by the minute as she finally typed her message and hit send before the small bit of courage went away.
Mindy had been right, after all.
That night, Sam took you out for dinner and a movie; classic, but she learned that you loved the classics. Especially when you pressed your lips to hers again before saying goodbye, in a kiss that Sam would be happy to live in forever.
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵
The stairs that led up to her apartment weren’t the most comfortable seat, but the empty hallways provided much-needed peace.
Sam buried her head in her hands, clawing at the roots of her hair. Her shirt was still damp, the smell becoming annoying. She could feel the back of her eyes stinging but she gulped back the feeling.
“You know you don’t always have to wait for me down here.”
It was almost magical, how your voice sent a wave of easiness through Sam’s body. It was almost as if you carefully reached inside her chest and took away the burden there.
You were walking up to her, a smirk on your lips and a backpack hanging from your shoulder, “I know the way to your apartment.”
Sam mimicked your smile, getting up with more haste than usual and meeting you halfway in the empty hallway. She didn’t give you much of a warning before bringing you into a searing kiss, her hands cupped your cheeks and she had your bottom lip trapped between hers; chasing the feeling only you could give her.
A gasp escaped you when she collided with you. Your giggles got muffled by her lips and you took hold of her waist to steady yourself.
It’s been four months since Sam started calling you hers. Four months since she’s been able to gloat because you’re her girlfriend. Four months in which she’s been the happiest she’s ever been in her life.
“I missed you,” she spoke against your lips.
You kissed the words, frowning playfully, “you saw me this afternoon.”
“Exactly,” Sam’s smile stretched further, “too long,” and then she was leaning in again, and again, and again.
Sam could be intense sometimes, but you knew how to recognize when she was doing it for fun, or to forget about something else.
You took hold of one of her hands then, breaking the kiss she had you trapped in so you could place one to her knuckles, “is that cherry coke I smell on you?”
“Maybe,” she dragged the word, her fingers intertwining with yours.
“Are you making a habit of having people throw drinks at you?” You raised an eyebrow at her before squeezing her hand reassuringly, “what happened?”
Sam let out a halfhearted groan, shrugging her shoulders as she avoided your eyes, “just some conspiracy psychos… and Tara is pissed at me.”
“Did you guys have another fight?” You asked sympathetically.
“She was at this party and I tased a guy who was trying to take advantage of her, and now she’s mad at me,” Sam distracted herself by playing with your fingers as she spoke, “keeps telling me I should let her go.”
In your four months with Sam, you learned how protective she could be of those she cares about, especially after what happened in Woodsboro. You learned that because you were now on that list too. You’d lost count of how many guys she threatened because of you already, each time you went out for drinks together and a strange dude decided to try his luck with you Sam would pull out her taser and aim it right where it hurts most.
In truth, you understood both sides. Yes, Sam could be overprotective sometimes; but she had her reasons.
“Family can be complicated, I would know,” you pushed back strands of Sam’s dark hair, never having enough of how she leaned into your touch, “but Tara will come around soon.”
You felt the shape of Sam’s smile on your palm right before she placed a kiss there. Part of you lived only for these sweet, precious moments.
“Hey guys,” Chad’s voice suddenly broke your peaceful bubble. You and Sam looked up to see him on the stairs, “come up here, quick.”
Sam walked into her apartment holding onto your hand, and her grip only tightened when she saw what everyone was watching on the TV.
A student from Blackmore University had just been murdered, Mindy recognized him from their film studies class.
Tension lay heavy in the room, but especially, it radiated off Sam; you could feel it in the tremble of her hold on your hand when the reporter spoke about the several Ghostface costumes left at the scene of the crime.