Chapter Text
The gym was loud and it smelled gross. It smelled like damp wood, rubber, and sweat, and Jess hated it. She was standing near the practice mats, scanning the gym. The new recruits were stumbling through the routine again, their steps clumsy, out of sync, and their nervous giggles made it worse. Jess glanced at Coach, standing across the room, her face very sour.
Jess stifled a laugh.
Coach clapped her hands loudly as she all but screamed, “Focus, ladies! Keep those lines straight! Eyes up! You’re supposed to look confident, not like you’re running from something.”
Jess freezes for a moment.
Running from something.
The words hit too close to home.
It’s stupid, she knows, but the pain comes at her at random times, and moments. It’s almost like it knows when Jess least wants it to come. She swallows thickly, her eyelashes fluttering as she feels the thoughts flooding into her brain.
Jess tears her away from Coach quickly and instead tries to focus on the newbies trying to get their footing right so she could distract herself. The newbies were trying so hard, she almost felt bad for them. Almost. She would’ve felt worse for them if she didn’t go through that stupid night.
Suddenly, Jess’ mind flashes with images of the mines, and she could almost smell it. God, it smelled like rotten corpses down there. She hated the fact that she knew there was a good reason why.
“Jessica!” Coach’s voice snaps Jess out of her thoughts, her eyes wide as she looks at her again. “You want to join us, or are you planning to stand there all night?”
“On it, Coach!” Jess calls back with the same practiced faux confidence that she’s used to by now. She stands in front of the new recruits, shouting instructions, and encouraging them.
She didn’t want to do this.
Cheer.
But her therapist had told her that stepping back into her old routine would be good for her, and her cheer coach had gladly welcomed her back despite her lack of practice. Her lack of practice was due to her having to spend a lot of time trying to recover at the hospital. Time away from cheer was stretched out even more since her parents had been ridiculously (understandably) reluctant to send Jess back to college after the events on the mountain.
After practice ended, Jess stayed behind to help put away the practice mats. She didn’t need to, not really. It was the newbies’ job, but after… after everything that’s happened on that mountain, Jess found herself always needing something to do, otherwise the pain would find her. The pain wasn’t sympathetic (when was it ever?), and it always came to her at the worst times, like how it did earlier.
Her phone buzzes in her bag. She fishes it out, expecting one of her teammates texting about plans for dinner, but it’s just a notification from her therapist’s app. A reminder about her next session. The sight of it makes her chest tighten. She knows the sessions are helping. At least, that’s what Dr. Patel keeps telling her. She’s showing up. She’s talking. She’s trying. But what does “helping” even look like? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like she’s better. Not yet.
Not when she still wakes up sweating in the middle of the night, feeling like she can’t breathe. Not when she can’t walk into a basement by herself or turn off the lights without hearing the crunch of snow, without feeling cold, and feeling long hands pulling her into that tight squeeze of a window at the cabin. The grating feeling of the window shards scraping against her skin.
Jess shakes her head before her thoughts could spiral even more. She haphazardly tosses her phone back into her bag and heads for the exit.
When Jess gets back to her dorm, she dumps her duffel bag on the floor and collapses onto her bed. She stares up at her ceiling, her mind racing. She knows she should shower, or at least change out of her sweaty practice gear. But, God, the pain was hitting harder this time, accompanied by eerily vivid visions, ones that Jess has always tried to forget about.
And failed.
She lies there for a while, her eyes tracing the jagged crack that runs across the ceiling. She tries to focus on anything but the mountain, but the memories are always there. The snow. The screams. The crunch of her body hitting the ground. The loneliness, the darkness. The confident, sure feeling that she was going to die. All alone.
The fear.
She rolls onto her side, facing the wall. It’s easier not to think about it when she keeps herself busy. Practice, classes, parties. But when she’s alone like this with absolutely zero distractions, it’s unbearable. She closes her eyes, trying to will her thoughts away but..
It doesn’t work.
She quickly grabs her phone from the nightstand, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. Photos of people from high school flash by, along with… well, her old friends. Beach trips, sunny skies, restaurants. They all look so… normal. Her thumb hovers over a photo of Mike. He’s grinning, his arm slung around some guy Jess doesn’t recognize, holding a beer in his other hand. He looks happy. She wonders if he really is, or if he’s just great at faking it like she is.
They broke up a few weeks after everything, and even now, Jess isn’t sure how to feel about it. Well. She knew it was for the best. Mike said he couldn’t do it... that every time he so much as looked at her, all he could think about was what happened. She told him she understood–that it was mutual, but it wasn’t. Not really. At least not at the time.
She swipes out of the app, tossing her phone back onto the nightstand. She doesn’t want to think about Mike. Or the mountain. Or anything, really. But she knows the universe wouldn’t ever give her that luxury.
Jess doesn’t believe in miracles. And, who could blame her? After what she went through on that mountain… well. But her world was shifting. And it could be pinpointed at the exact moment she first saw Sam on campus.
Jess almost didn’t recognize her.
Sam was sitting in the dining hall, her hazel eyes hyper focused on her laptop. Her hair was up in a loose bun, two strands framing her face. She looked… oddly normal. You know, just like any other student cramming for finals or writing an essay.
A student that didn’t almost die a thousand times that night.
But she wasn’t normal.
None of them were.
Jess had stopped dead in her tracks, her fingers tightening on her tray. She hadn’t seen Sam since that night, since they all piled into that rescue helicopter and left the mountain behind. Since Sam had taken it upon herself to check on each of them at the hospital, despite having injuries herself. For a moment, she wondered if Sam’s scars were still prominent too, if she still woke up in the middle of the night like Jess did, images of that night imprinted in her brain like a morbid tattoo behind her eyelids. Or if she had managed to move on somehow, to put it all behind her.
Sam suddenly looked up from her laptop, her eyes scanning the room, and for a second, their eyes locked.
Jess froze.
Oh God Oh God, repeated in Jess’ brain like a mantra.
She should say hi, she should. But instead, her brain opted to pretend to check her phone like she didn’t just get caught staring.
Jess keeps telling herself she didn’t see you, Jess, she didn’t recognize you as if Sam would be the type of person to forget any of them.
After that, Jess started noticing her around more. She wasn’t sure if Sam had always been this constant presence on campus or if that first encounter just made Jess more hyper aware of anyone with a blonde messy bun. She saw her at the library, at the gym, walking across the quad with that quiet confidence that Sam always carried. She always looked calm, collected, like nothing could touch her. Like she had everything figured out.
Jess knew it was probably not true. It couldn’t be. No one comes out of something like that unscathed. But it still made her jaw clench, seeing Sam like that. She wanted to say something. She wanted to ask how she did it. But every time she gets close, her feet would stop moving, and the words would die in her throat.
She tells herself it’s fine. She doesn’t need to talk to Sam. She’s handling this on her own. She’s fine.
But deep down, Jess knows she’s just completely lying to herself.
Jess stares at the cursor as it blinks away in her essay doc. She hasn’t written a single word. She hasn’t even tried.
Her brain keeps going back to earlier today. Passing Sam on the quad, her arms loaded with books, a coffee cup fighting to stay balanced on top. She was laughing at something someone said, smiling like it was the easiest thing in the world. She looked… fine.
Jess knows it’s stupid, but it makes her angry. How is Sam fine when Jess feels like she’s falling apart half the time? Sure, she’s good at hiding it. Her smiles, her cheer routine, her casual jokes at practice. But it’s all just a cover. A mask she wears so no one asks too many questions.
Jess pulls her knees to her chest. The thoughts swirl in her head, loud and relentless, like they’ve been doing more and more lately. Her therapist says it’s okay to feel stuck, that healing isn’t linear. But how do you heal from something like that? How do you even start? She’d started with therapy, and yet… well, it wasn’t helping her as much as she hoped it would.
Her eyes drift to her phone on the nightstand. She stares at it for a long moment, before she picks it up and pulls up Sam’s name. She hasn’t texted her since the group chat went dead months ago, everyone slowly pulling away from each other after the mountain. No one wanted to be the one to say it, but Jess knows why: it’s easier to pretend it didn’t happen when you’re not looking at the people who lived it with you.
She types out a message, something casual.
“Hey, saw you on campus today. Wanna catch up sometime?”
She stares at the words so hard she almost sees black dots cloud her vision. Her thumb hovers over the send button… then she deletes it.
She doesn’t even know why this feels so hard. It’s just Sam. But, that’s exactly why. It’s hard because it is Sam. The one who held everything together when everything else was falling apart. Sure, Jess wasn’t in the lodge when Sam had blown it up, but she’d heard the stories from the rest of the group. Sam saved them.
She was a hero… and Jess was…
Jess places her phone back onto the nightstand and stands up. She paces back and fourth in front of her bed, her eyebrows furrowing, lips pursing. She feels restless, like she needs to do something. She needs to. But nothing feels right. She can’t doom scroll. She can’t rewatch her favourite reality TV shows. And she knows if she stays here, she’s going to scream or cry or both.
Before she can stop herself, she grabs her jacket and slips out into the hall. The walk to Sam’s dorm is a blur. Jess doesn’t even let herself think about what she’s doing. If she does, she’ll turn around, crawl back into bed, and keep pretending she’s okay.
The campus is mostly empty at this hour. Jess’ eyes stayed on the ground, her hands shoved deep in her jacket pockets where her hands were in fists. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say when she gets there. She doesn’t even know if Sam will be awake, or will even… want her there.
When she finally reaches the building, her heart is pounding so hard she can feel it in her ears. She stands outside the door for a moment, staring at the buzzer. She knows Sam’s room number. She remembers it from that awkward first week when they all tried to check in on each other.
That feels like forever ago now.
Her fingers hover over the keypad, but she doesn’t press it. Instead, she steps back and pulls out her phone. She scrolls to Sam’s name again, her thumb trembling as she types.
“Are you awake?”
She hits send before she can overthink it, shoving her phone back into her pocket like it’s burning her. Her phone buzzes in her pocket almost instantly, and she fishes it back out, a sigh slipping past her lips as she does so.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
Jess stares at the message. Maybe too hard. And she hesitates for a second, before her thumbs moves and texts back:
“Can I come by?”
There’s a pause. Long enough that Jess starts to wonder if this was a mistake. But then her phone buzzes again.
“Of course. Door’s open.”
By the time she reaches Sam’s door, she feels like she might throw up. She stops in front of it, staring at the dry-erase board that had Sam’s name messily scrawled on it. She slowly wipes her hands against the side of her jeans before she raises her hand to knock, but then she freezes. For a second, she almost turns around. But then she remembers Sam’s text. Remembers how Sam always seemed to have the right words when nothing felt right.
Finally, Jess knocks. The sound echoes in the quiet hallway, and she slightly winces at it. The door swings open a moment later, and there she is.
Sam.
Her hair is up in a messy bun, which was kind of her signature look (Jess had always found it.. cute), and she’s wearing a black hoodie, a pair of gray sweatpants and… pink fluffy slippers? She looks comfortable. And she looks surprised, lips parted, hazel eyes slightly wide, but not exactly irritated about Jess’ unexpected arrival. Her eyes soften when she sees Jess, and she steps back, opening the door wider.
“Hey,” Sam says warmly, smiling softly at her. “Come in.”
Jess hesitates, her hands clenching at her sides.
For a second, she thinks about bolting.
But she steps inside.
The first thing that greets Jess is the smell of wood and citrus. She looks around her room, and… Sam’s room feels very much like it’s hers, and only hers. Her desk is so well-organized. Stacks of textbooks are precariously placed near the corner of her desk. She has a cute duck lamp on top of them, and a few succulents of varying sizes and pot designs lined up against the wall.
She also has a cork board above her desk. She has her class schedule pinned up, some post-it notes, and maybe some assignment reminders? Pictures of nature, of Sam with her new college friends, her family… and… Jess squints, and oh. She has a picture of their friends in the middle of her cork board, a red pin holding it down in place.
Friends, she’d written on the corner of the picture with a red marker.
God.
Of course Sam’s dorm would be like this. Very cozy, very personal. It was such a huge contrast to Jess’ dorm… which was just the opposite of cozy, something most people wouldn’t really expect from Jess. But she’s gone through alot and things that used to matter to her (like a nice, cozy room) didn’t feel as important anymore.
“Nice setup,” Jess says absentmindedly as she looks around the room even more. “You’ve got the whole Pinterest vibe going on.”
Sam smiles, softly. It’s the kind of smile that doesn’t take up her whole face, just her eyes and the corners of her mouth. “Thanks… I think? Not sure I’d call it Pinterest-worthy.”
“Well, it’s way nicer than mine. My roommate’s obsessed with neon signs. I can’t even turn the lights off without my whole room glowing pink. It’s like sleeping inside a cotton candy machine,” Jess says casually. It felt so natural to talk to Sam. She feels her shoulders relax, and for a moment she thinks about how stupid she’s been for having so many doubts about talking to Sam, especially with Sam standing there, with that… smile.
“Cotton candy machine sounds kind of fun,” Sam says, sitting down in her desk chair and pulling her legs up under her. She tilts her head. “I take it you don’t decorate much?”
Jess rolls her eyes, grinning. “I tried! I got some of those little string lights, you know? The cute ones. But they fell down like, two days later, and I just… gave up. Now they’re in a pile on my dresser. Adds to the charm, I guess.”
Sam grins. “Rustic chic.”
“Exactly.”
A beat.
She tries not to stare at Sam, she really does. But it was hard when Sam was sitting there staring at her, too.
“So…” Sam says, breaking the silence. “You’ve been cheering again, right? I saw your team practicing on the quad last week.”
“You… saw that?” Jess asks, feeling embarrassed. And it must have shown on her face because Sam’s smile widens.
“Kind of hard not to,” Sam murmurs. “You guys were flipping people in the air. It’s impressive.”
Oh, she thinks it’s cool. Okay.
“Yeah, well. It’s just muscle memory, you know? Once you’ve done a hundred basket tosses, it’s like riding a bike. Except, you know, with more glitter and less wheels,” Jess says, and watches as Sam breaks into another soft laugh. She smiles at the sight.
“It’s cool, though,” Sam says after a moment, leaning forward slightly. “Getting back into it. Was that… hard? After everything?”
Jess hesitates, her smile faltering. For a second, she doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want to get into it. Not yet. Not when things feel so light, so normal.
“It was… weird at first,” she admits, trying to sound casual. “Like, I kept thinking, what’s the point, you know? Why stress over hitting a routine when…” She trails off, waving a hand vaguely. “You get it.”
“Yeah,” Sam replies softly, her eyes downcasting to the floor.
Jess clears her throat, suddenly desperate to shift the conversation. “Anyway. What about you? I mean, I know you’re not tossing people into the air, but… what’ve you been up to?”
“Not much. Classes, mostly. Hiking when I can. Yoga. The usual boring stuff.”
Jess has never told Sam—or anyone—this, but she’s always thought that Sam was cool. Like she could be a model for Eddie fucking Bauer and Jess wouldn’t even bat an eye. Sam belongs in that world, you know? Hiking, outdoor stuff, mountain climbing. Jess is glad that Sam isn’t letting what happened at the mountain get in the way of all of that, of what makes Sam... her—meanwhile, Jess couldn’t even get through cheer practice without thinking about that stupid night.
“Of course you’re still hiking,” Jess says, rolling her eyes but smiling. “I swear, you’re like the poster child for ‘outdoorsy.’”
“What can I say? I like fresh air,” Sam grins, half shrugging.
“Fresh air’s overrated,” Jess responds, rolling her eyes playfully. “Give me a cozy couch, a warm throwaway blanket and bad reality TV any day.”
Sam laughs again, and for a moment, it feels easy. Like they’re just two college girls, talking about nothing, completely removed from the weight of everything that’s happened.
But the ease doesn’t last. Every small pause in their conversation feels like they’re inching closer to the real topic. What they’ve both been clearly avoiding to talk about.
Fuck.
She glances down at her hands, her fingers twisting the fabric of her sleeve. She knows she should say something, that she didn’t come here just to talk about cheerleading and hiking, and fucking small talk. But the words feel lodged in her throat.
“I, uh…” She hesitates, her voice faltering. “I see you around, you know. On campus. Like, alot.”
“Yeah?”
Jess nods, not looking up. “I wanted to come up to you, but… I didn’t know how. After everything.”
The admission hangs in the air, heavier than she expected. She stares at the floor, afraid to see Sam’s reaction. She doesn’t even think Sam would ever react negatively to it, but she was still wary. She guesses this was a symptom of her trauma, her insecurity and uncertainty. Jess was confident before all of this. Now, she’s just… a shadow of what she used to be.
The pause was long enough to have Jess almost take back what she said, but then Sam speaks, her voice soft, “I’m glad you did.”
Jess looks up, and Sam’s expression is open, sincere. There’s no pity there, no judgment. Just warmth. And for the tenth time this evening, Jess thinks that’s it’s soo Sam.
“I mean it,” Sam continues, her voice a little quieter now. “I’m really glad you’re alive, Jess.”
The words hit harder than Jess expected.
“Thanks,” she says finally, her voice slightly shaky. “I’m glad you are too.”
Jess suddenly feels weirdly out of place, like she doesn’t belong in Sam’s perfectly decorated room, even though Sam had invited her in. The room smells like wood, citrus, and clean laundry, which is such a Sam thing, and Jess isn’t sure if it makes her feel more calm or more nervous.
Sam’s watching Jess. Like she’s waiting. Like she knows Jess has something to say but isn’t going to force her to say it. It’s nice, but also kind of making Jess so fucking nervous and jittery.
Jess tries to find her words. She’s been carrying them around for months now, but now that she’s here, the words are stuck in her throat.
Classic Jess.
“So,” she says finally, realizing she didn’t want to be that Jess anymore. “I, um… I started therapy.”
Jess looks up just to gauge Sam’s reaction. And, well. Unsurprisingly, Sam’s looking at her with her hazel eyes looking very open. Like she’s listening, and that she understands. Jess swallows before continuing.
“It’s been… good, I guess. Like, it’s helping. Or at least, that’s what everyone says it should be doing, right? That it’s—that it’s supposed to help. But it’s hard, you know? Like, every time I go, it’s like digging up all this fucking crap I’ve been trying to bury, and now it’s just….”
Sam doesn’t interrupt.
“I still have nightmares,” Jess admits after a long pause. The words spill out of her mouth like vomit, fast and unrelenting. Like she’s afraid that if she pauses, even for a second, she’d stop this train of honesty. But it feels good to be honest. She doesn’t want to stop.
“Not every night, but enough,” Jess continues, “it’s always the same. The mines, the wendigos, all of it. I’ll wake up, and for a second, it’s like I’m still there. Like I never left.” She lets out a shaky humourless laugh. “I screamed so loud last week I woke up my roommate. I had to lie and—and say that it was just about some dumb movie we watched.”
“I get it,” Sam says quietly, and there’s something in her voice that makes Jess stop fidgeting.
“You do?”
Sam nods, leaning forward a little, resting her elbows on her knees. “I still have nightmares too. About the wendigos, mostly. Sometimes it’s just flashes, but other times…” She trails off, her jaw tightening for a second. “Other times I’m back at the lodge. I’m trying not to move— so that… so that the wendigos wouldn’t…” she trails off again like it’s just as hard for her to talk about it as it is for Jess, “everyone’s relying on me. For me to not fail. I didn’t fail. I know I didn’t. We’re all alive, aren’t we? But in my dreams, I always fail...”
Jess’ brows furrowed as she listened.
“I’ve been…” Sam hesitates, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ve been drinking more than I should. Not, like, all the time or anything. Just… a drink or two at night. It helps me sleep.”
“Does it work?” Jess asks, even though she already knows the answer.
“Not really,” Sam admits with a dry laugh.
The room goes quiet for a second. Not awkward, but not comfortable either. Jess looks down at her phone, her thumb lining the edge of her phone case. She doesn’t know why she brings it up, but before she can stop herself, she unlocks it and pulls up the group chat.
“I was looking at this the other day,” she says, holding the phone out for Sam to see.
Sam takes it, her brows knitting together as she reads. The last message in the chat is from Chris: a dumb squirrel meme he sent months ago.
No one replied.
Sam hands the phone back, sighing softly. “It’s been a while, huh?”
“Yeah,” Jess says, her phone making that locking sound as she sets it on the bed beside her. “It sucks, you know? I thought that… I thought we’d keep in touch. But now it’s like no one knows what to say. Or maybe no one wants to say anything at all.”
“I think it’s just hard. For all of us. It’s easier to just… not.”
“It’s so stupid, though. We went through all of that together, and now it’s like we don’t even exist to each other anymore.” Jess sighs. “I just want someone who gets it. Someone who doesn’t think I’m crazy or broken or…” She trails off, shrugging weakly.
“I get it,” Sam says, her voice steady. It seems that was their favourite thing to say tonight. I get it, and, God, was it such a relief. That they just get each other. “You have me now, Jess.”
Jess looks up at her. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but the look on Sam’s face makes her feel like she doesn’t have to.
“Thanks,” she says softly, the word barely audible.
It didn’t happen all at once. Jess still feels the weight of everything most days. It’s like a dull ache in her chest that never really goes away, no matter what she’s doing. She still puts on that fake smile… the one she’s gotten so good at that sometimes she almost believes it herself. But lately, it’s been a little less crushing. A little less constant.
She thinks that has something to do with Sam.
It’s not like there was a big, dramatic moment. It was just... small things at first. Running into Sam on campus, having a few awkward conversations that somehow stopped feeling awkward halfway through. Like the first time Jess told Sam about one of her nightmares. She hadn’t planned on it, but one day, it just spilled out: how she woke up shaking, and crying so hard she thought she was going to throw up. Jess figured it’d be embarrassing to talk about it and it would just paint herself as a big baby, but Sam didn’t act weird. She just nodded, like she knew exactly what Jess meant. Because she did.
After that, something shifted. Jess found herself actually looking forward to bumping into Sam. She liked those random little interactions, like the time she saw Sam leaving the library with a ridiculous stack of books.
“What’s with this tower? Planning to build the next Great Pyramid of Giza using textbooks?” Jess had teased, grabbing a couple off the top before Sam dropped them all over the sidewalk.
“Ha-ha,” Sam had said dryly, smiling anyway, her smile a little lopsided, but Jess found it oddly cute. “It’s midterm season, Jess. Apparently, ancient civilizations were very… complicated.”
Jess rolled her eyes, smirking. “Of course you’re taking something like that.”
These moments weren’t anything huge, but they mattered. Jess liked how easy it felt to talk to Sam. She liked the way Sam made her feel… like maybe she didn’t have to pretend all the time. Like maybe she wasn’t as broken as she thought.
Then there was the time Sam just showed up at practice. Jess hadn’t seen her at first, she’d been in the middle of a routine. But on her way back to the mat, she caught a glimpse of someone leaning casually against a tree at the edge of the quad. It was Sam, of course. Jess nearly tripped over her own feet, her brain short-circuiting for a second. What the hell was she doing here?
After practice, Jess jogged over, still catching her breath and wiping sweat from her forehead. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sound more casual than she felt. Sam always had a way of throwing her off, and she hated that it showed.
Sam shrugged, holding out a water bottle like she hadn’t just derailed Jess’ entire focus. “Just passing by. Thought I’d stick around and watch. You guys are good.”
Jess laughed softly, taking the bottle. “Yeah, well, we better be. Coach would actually murder us if we weren’t.” She hesitated, then added, “But, uh… thanks.”
“Anytime,” Sam said, and her grin was so easy, so genuine, it made Jess look away. Her cheeks felt warm, but she blamed it on practice. Definitely the practice.
Since then, Sam’s just… been around. Not in a weird or clingy way, but in this low-key, comforting kind of way Jess didn’t know how to handle. Like the world was so chaotic and awful, but somehow, Sam wasn’t. It made Jess feel stupidly safe, which was not a feeling she was used to these days.
She starts texting Sam more often, even though at first, it felt a little weird, and it made her a little nervous. Sometimes it’s random, stupid stuff, like when her roommate burns popcorn so badly it sets off the fire alarm at 2 a.m. Jess had sent her a picture of the disaster with a caption: The popcorn’s more traumatized than I am. Sam’s reply? Low bar, but impressive. It made Jess laugh out loud, and she hadn’t laughed like that in… well, she couldn’t even remember.
But sometimes, the texts are heavier. Like when Jess wakes up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, her heart racing, and she just needs to tell someone. She doesn’t even have to explain. Sam always seems to get it. She doesn’t send back some stupid motivational quote or try to tell Jess it’s going to be fine. She just… listens. And for Jess, that’s enough.
Lately, Jess finds herself looking forward to hearing from Sam, even when she’s not sure what to say. It’s not like she’s magically fixed or anything. She’s still Jess, still messy, still carrying way too much. But with Sam, it feels like maybe she doesn’t have to carry it all alone. And that’s… something. It’s more than she expected, anyway.
One afternoon, Jess and Sam grabbed coffee between classes. Jess honestly couldn’t remember how it happened. One minute she was coming out of the student union, the next she was sitting across from Sam in some booth, nursing a way-too-hot latte. It wasn’t planned or anything, but somehow it felt easy. Natural, even.
Sam was scrolling through her phone, smirking at something. “Oh, you’ve gotta see this,” she said, holding the screen out.
Jess leaned over. It was a chipmunk with its cheeks puffed out so much it looked ready to explode, clutching some tiny nuts in its paws. Jess snorted. “Who’s this? Your new hiking buddy?”
“Maybe,” Sam said, grinning. “I saw it on my hike last weekend. It just sat there staring at me. Like… zero fear. It was kind of eerie, actually, now that I think about it.”
“Probably wanted snacks,” Jess mumbles, sipping her coffee. “You’re such a nerd.”
“You’re the one enjoying my nerdy chipmunk photos,” Sam pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
Jess rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “Fair.”
Sam scrolled to the next photo, and this one was all dramatic mountain vibes. You know, trees everywhere, sunlight doing that golden thing it does when photographers get lucky. It looked like one of those pictures you’d see on Pinterest with ‘Love Yourself’ written in flowery font. Jess tilted her head at it, something small and warm curling in her chest.
“You really love this stuff, huh?” she asked, not even sure why she was asking. It was kind of obvious.
“Yeah,” Sam had said softly. “It helps… being out there, it’s like, everything else shuts up for a while.”
Jess nodded, her eyes flicking back to the photo. “It’s nice, I guess,” she said, even though there was this weird feeling sitting low in her stomach. Then, she quickly added, “maybe I should come with you sometime. You know, see what all the fuss is about...”
Sam looked at her, one brow raised like she wasn’t sure Jess was serious. “You? Hiking?”
Jess groaned. “Why does everyone act like I’m allergic to nature? I can totally hike.”
“Uh-huh. You sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been outside before. I’ve touched dirt. I’ve worn boots.”
Sam laughed… like, really laughed, and Jess felt a weird flutter in her chest. She told herself it was nothing, just the caffeine hitting. “Okay,” Sam said, still smiling. “We’ll see.”
It was weird, sitting there with Sam like this. Jess had spent so much time keeping everyone at arm’s length, slapping on her practiced cheerleader smile and acting like nothing ever got to her. But with Sam, she didn’t feel like she had to do that. She could just… be.