Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

The birds wouldn’t shut up.

Their chirping drilled into Jess’ skull, sharp and relentless, like an alarm she couldn’t snooze. Each note a reminder that she could be anywhere else—should be anywhere else—curled up in her blankets, not sweating through her clothes on some godforsaken hiking trail.

She exhales, long and slow, dragging her feet behind Sam. The sun is brutal, high overhead, sunscreen doing nothing to stop the sticky sheen on her skin. Her thighs rub together uncomfortably with every step, and God, she should’ve worn different shorts.

Sam moves like she was born here. Like she knows the woods the way Jess knows the back of her own hand. She steps over a root without breaking her stride, barely even breathing hard.

Jess watches her, feels the heat prickle at the back of her neck, and scowls. Unbelievable.

She wanted to turn around, walk all the way back to her dorm, crawl under her blankets, and pretend this never happened. Pretend she never agreed to this in the first place. But she was here. With Sam. In Sam’s world. And that mattered to Jess.

Sam had spent enough time in hers—sitting through endless study sessions at the campus café, passing by cheer practice with a bottle of water, waiting around even when she didn’t have to. It was only fair, Jess figured, that she stepped into Sam’s world for a little while too.

“Hey, remember that thing you said?”

Sam had asked it casually, a few days ago, not looking up from her textbook.

Jess had glanced at her, eyebrows furrowing, though she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific, Sam.”

Sam had breathed out a soft laugh, their eyes meeting across the room. She was perched on her bed, lying on her stomach, flipping absently through a highlighted page. Jess had taken the desk, even though she’d protested—relentlessly—that they should switch, that Sam would be more comfortable there.

But, well. Sam never listened.

“Y’know…” Sam had drawled, smiling like she was keeping a secret. “Okay, fine. Remember a few weeks ago when we were at the café? I showed you a picture of a squirrel—”

“Sam,” Jess cut in, deadpan. “We go to the café, like, three times a week, and you almost always show me a picture of a squirrel.”

“Okay, but—” Sam huffed, sitting up slightly, hands gesturing like that would help. “You said something specific.”

Jess tapped her pen against her notebook, tilting her head back with a dramatic sigh. “What’d I say?”

When she looked back at Sam, something in her stomach twisted. Her brows were drawn, lips pressed together like she was second-guessing herself. Like whatever she was about to say actually mattered, and she wasn’t sure if she should say it. Jess hated it.

“Sam,” she tried again, softer this time. “Just tell me.”

“Would you wanna go hiking with me?”

The words barely have time to settle before it hits her—the memory. Her. Offhandedly suggesting she try hiking with Sam, not really thinking about it, not expecting Sam to actually remember. It was like a hundred other things she never really meant—just something to fill the space, a throwaway comment designed to be forgotten. But nothing ever got past Sam. Not a single thing. Jess should’ve known better. Should’ve learned by now to never say anything around Sam that she wasn’t ready to be held accountable for.

Like right now.

Jess hesitated, just for a second, but it was long enough. Sam’s shoulders dropped, her mouth twitching into a forced smile—one of those ones that looked almost real if you didn’t know her. Jess hated that she knew her.

“Never mind,” Sam said, too quickly. She waved a hand like she could erase the moment, let them both pretend it hadn’t happened. “I just thought that it’d be, I don’t know.. fun—?”

“Sam,” Jess cut in, softer than she meant to, that familiar, unbearable urge curling hot in her chest. “I would love to go hiking with you.”

Okay. Love was pushing it. But with you—that part? It hit her then, sharp and sudden, like stepping into a cold shower. She would do anything if Sam was there. Absolutely anything.

And wasn’t that just the most dangerous thought she’d ever had?

“Hey, trooper, you okay?”

Sam’s voice pulls her back. Jess blinks, looks at her, and—oh.

Sam looks really pretty. She blinks again–once, twice–as if doing so would erase her thoughts. But it was too late. The sunlight catches in her eyes, turns them gold, and… since when did Sam have freckles on her nose? Have they always been there? Just waiting for Jess to notice?

“Jess?”

Jess blinks. Again. Shit.

“Sorry, I was just…” She trails off, looking away too quickly, too obviously. She can feel her cheeks warming up, but she prayed that Sam doesn’t notice. “Are we close to this so-called-cliff of yours?” she says, forcing a scoff, aiming for deflection, not desperation. “Or did you make it up to get me to suffer through this hike?”

Sam lets out a breathy laugh. Soft. And just… so Sam that Jess feels her heart stutter, skipping in a way that makes her stomach twist. She catches herself, forces it down, shoves it somewhere deep and unreachable. She’s not unpacking that. Not now. Not when her thoughts are already a mess.

Two—agonizing—hours later, they’re finally at the top.

The cliff is real—turns out—and just as beautiful as Sam had described. It stretches out over the forest, a sea of yellow, orange, and red, like something straight off Pinterest. Jess leans against the—very unsafe, by the way—fence made out of sticks stuck into the dirt and rope. She’s watching the sun as it dips lower, turning the sky into a watercolor painting.

Then, the sound of Sam unzipping her bag makes her look over her shoulder. And, of course, she’s pulling out a picnic blanket out of her bag.

Oh my God.

Jess stares as Sam shakes it out, spreading it over the ground, then starts pulling out snacks. Sandwiches. An actual, fully planned picnic. Jess feels something warm settling deep in her chest. She ignores it. She’s just… grateful. That’s all.

“Sam,” Jess says, eyes widening as she spots the Nutella and banana sandwiches. Homemade because, of course, they are. She looks up at Sam, somewhere between amused and genuinely touched. "Oh my God. Tell me you didn’t actually make these."

Sam shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Figured you’d like them.”

Before she can think about it—before she can stop herself—Jess moves.

One second of hesitation, and then she’s pulling Sam in, arms wrapping around her. Sam is only slightly shorter, but it’s just enough that Jess can lean into her, let herself settle. She tucks her face into the curve of Sam’s neck, breathes her in. Wood and citrus, so familiar. The scent clings to Sam’s hoodie, to her skin.

Sam doesn’t hesitate. Her arms come up immediately, hands pressing into the small of Jess’ back. Jess exhales, slow and careful, tries not to breathe her in again, but it’s useless.

“Thank you,” Jess murmurs softly, her lips accidentally brushing against Sam’s neck.

If she feels Sam stiffen slightly, she ignores it. Pretends she didn’t.

“For what?” Sam replies after a beat.

“For everything. For this,” Jess says, hating the fact that her voice sounded so soft and vulnerable. She can feel the tears coming but she stops herself.

They pull back, eventually. Jess immediately wants to close the space again, to lean in, to bury herself in Sam like she could press the moment deeper into her skin. She digs her nails into her palms instead, grounding herself in the sting.

Her eyes flick to the picnic blanket, desperate for a distraction.

“And you even brought unhealthy food,” she says, her voice a little wobbly “Aw. And no kale chips in sight? What a blessing.”

Sam rolls her eyes but smiles anyway, reaching into the basket. “Hey, don’t make me regret bringing junk for you. I even got your favourite chocolate.”

Jess watches as Sam pulls out Snickers, holds it out like a peace offering. She takes it, fingers brushing against Sam’s.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Jess says, unwrapping the bar slowly, “I’d say you have a soft spot for me, Sammy.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sam mutters, slightly turning away, but her cheeks are pinker than they were before.

Jess tells herself it’s just the lighting. The sun is setting, after all.

“So…” Jess starts, fiddling with the empty wrapper in her hands.

Sam looks over at her, smiling. “So,” she echoes.

Jess exhales, glancing down at the mess of crumpled foil before tossing it into the plastic bag Sam had deemed their makeshift trash bin. “This was fun. I mean—” she shrugs, her voice playfully casual, “I’m glad you took me here. I know I complained, but, like… I was mostly joking.”

Sam huffs out a laugh, nudging Jess’ knee with her own. “Mostly?”

Jess rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Don’t push it.”

“So, are you, like, a converted hiker now?”

“Like I said,” Jess mutters, tossing another wrapper into the plastic bag as she gives her a pointed look, “don’t push it.”

Sam hums, dragging a hand through the grass beside her. “Aw… but you didn’t even get to see a squirrel today…”

Jess narrows her eyes. “Are you… inviting me to hike again?”

Sam looks up, smirking, like she’s been waiting for Jess to ask. “Depends… is it working?”

Jess exhales through her nose, tilting her head back toward the sky, pretending to think about it, even though she already knows the answer. She stretches out her legs, lets the moment linger, like maybe she can make Sam squirm a little first. Then she glances at her, lazy and smug. “Depends,” she says, echoing Sam earlier. “It’s working if you bring Snickers next time, too.”

Sam lets out a laugh. “Jeez. You’re gonna leave me bankrupt.”

Jess laughs too. Sam’s laugh was infectious. “I’m joking,” she admits, softly, “of course, I will.”

Then, Sam starts clearing off the picnic blanket a little too quickly, like she’d been prolonging their cleanup just to ask. Jess doesn’t say anything about it. She just followed her lead, and soon enough they were walking back to Sam’s car, retracing their steps.

It was dark by the time they got to Sam’s dorm.

Jess stands behind Sam, watching as she unlocks the door to her dorm. The key clicks into place. Then, just before pushing it open, Sam turns. Faces her. There was something in her expression that Jess barely catches. Hesitation–her eyebrows momentarily meeting as she gives Jess a once-over.

Jess feels it too.

Sam hesitates before letting out a breath. “So… do you, um, want to come in?”

It was almost comical–this slight awkwardness between them. It was almost like they hadn’t spent the whole day together or haven’t known each other basically their whole lives. But something felt different tonight, and Jess couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

Jess smiles and nods, not trusting herself to speak. Sam smiles too (the kind where her eyes crinkle at the corners) before she pushes the door open, letting Jess in first.

It’s been a while since Jess was last here. Between classes and cheerleading, they haven’t really found time to hang out casually in each other’s dorms. The last time Jess was here was when she first reached out to Sam and they’d had that dreaded– but needed –conversation about… their trauma.

The moment Jess enters, she notes how clean Sam’s room is. Her bed is perfectly made, the same stack of textbooks Jess had seen last time still sits on the desk, untouched, like they’ve been frozen in time. And then there’s that woodsy candle from last time, flickering softly.

Jess huffs out a quiet laugh. Of course Sam left her candle burning, the one thing literally banned in the dorms. It’s kind of funny, really—how Sam, rule-follower, goody-two-shoes, never-gets-in-trouble Sam, breaks the one rule that could actually get her written up.

But then something catches Jess’ eye, and it makes her pause.

In the midst of Sam’s ridiculously clean and well-kept room, was a bottle of whiskey on her nightstand. Jess feels her stomach drop, remembers how Sam had told her that she drank to help her fall asleep, to help her drown out the horrors of that night. But Jess hadn’t known she was still doing it, that she still needed to do it.

Sam was, unfortunately, pretty good at hiding how much she’s hurting.

Jess doesn’t notice when Sam follows her gaze, doesn’t notice the way her face falls, the way her expression twists—like she’s cycling through every possible excuse, trying to settle on the right one before Jess can say anything. Like if she just thinks fast enough, she can explain it away.

Jess’ eyes snap to Sam’s, brows pulling together, a frown already settling into place.

“You’re still…” Jess trails off, her throat suddenly feeling dry.

The high she’s been riding all day disappears in real time. It had been so normal–no mention of trauma or stupid wendigos. And for weeks now, they haven’t been talking about it either. Forgetting about it is stupid, Jess realizes. And what’s worse? She wouldn’t have realized at all. Not until this moment.

Not until Sam was standing there, unknowingly holding up a mirror, reflecting it right back at her.

Sam rubs the back of her neck, a blush creeping up her face. “Um… yeah. I—I should’ve put it away,” she mutters, moving for the bottle.

Jess moves before she can think about it, her hand closing around Sam’s wrist.

Sam stills.

“Sam,” Jess says softly. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Sam nods, eyes down casting to the floor. She looks small, and Jess hates it. Hates the way her shoulders seem to fold in on themselves, like she’s trying to disappear. Without thinking, Jess rubs the back of her wrist, gentle. “Sam, look at me.”

Sam does. Her hazel eyes, usually so bright, are dark now.

“Is it still because of sleep?” Jess asks, her words slow and careful.

“Yeah, it’s just that—” Sam’s voice catches, barely a pause, but Jess hears it “—every time I close my eyes, I see it all again. I wanna stop. But it’s just… so hard.”

Jess watches as Sam swallows, blinking like she’s trying to hold it together. Jess can feel her own heartbeat in her throat. She hates this. Hates seeing Sam like this, like she’s stuck, like she’s tired in a way sleep won’t fix. It feels wrong, but maybe that’s the point. Sam’s always been good at keeping things locked up. Too good.

Jess wants her to talk, wants her to let it out if it helps, even if every second of it makes her chest hurt.

“Sam… if you’re having trouble sleeping,” Jess starts, voice softer now. “Just… call me, okay? Every night, if you have to. I don’t want you to go through this alone. I’m always one call away.”

Sam smiles, but it’s small. Soft. Sad. Jess feels it settle deep in her chest. She hates that it’s a sad smile. Hates that she still wants to hold onto it anyway. Jess’ thumb brushes over the back of her wrist. Once. Twice.

“Okay?”

Sam nods. “Thanks, Jess. You’re—” she stops, hesitates, like the word she’s looking for doesn’t exist.

Jess doesn’t let her dwell on it. She leans in and hugs her instead.

Sam calls her that night.

And the night after.

And the night after that.

It becomes routine, hearing Sam’s voice before she sleeps, low and tired in her ear. Some nights, Sam just talks. About nothing. About everything. Little things, like how her professor was being a dick or how she saw a squirrel do something stupid. Other nights, she’s quiet, and Jess can hear her shifting under the covers, can picture her lying in the dark, phone pressed to her ear, trying to hold onto something that isn’t there.

And then there are the nights where she lingers before saying goodnight, voice smaller, like she doesn’t really want to hang up.

Jess never hangs up first.

Then, one night…

“Emily called me.”

Jess sits up, trying to process it. She tries not to feel weird about the fact that Emily hadn’t called her instead. Though, it’s not that she’s surprised. Sam’s always been that person—the one everyone in the group got along with, the one people turned to when things got messy.

Besides… she and Emily had their differences.

Differences meaning: a certain Michael Monroe.

But Jess’ twelve-year-old self never really left. Deep down, she was still that kid, still waiting to be picked first. Still carrying the sting of sixth grade gym class, standing there, the last one left. Still watching Em pick Mike over her, over and over again, until she couldn’t take it.

“She… did?” Jess gets out, the words catching a little in her throat.

She has so many questions—how, what, when, why?—but she forces them down, swallows them, doesn’t want to push, doesn’t want to make this a thing, even though there was no way it wasn’t going to be.

“Yeah,” Sam says. There’s some shuffling on the other end, the rustle of blankets, like she’s shifting in bed. “It was weird. Hearing her voice again. She’s still deadpan and sarcastic, obviously. Took forever to actually get to the point.” Sam exhales, pauses like she’s debating whether to say the next part. “She… she wants to do, like, a get-together. All of us. Minus Mike, because, well. You know.”

Jess’ fingers tighten around her phone. “Wait—what about… me?” The silence that follows is barely a second, but it’s enough to make her feel like an idiot for even asking. She can’t handle it, not even for a moment, so she rushes to fill the space. “She wants me there?”

Sam lets out a small laugh, quiet and warm, like Jess just asked something ridiculous. “She only officially banned Mike.” There’s another pause, a slight shift. “But… I wouldn’t, um… I wouldn’t go if you weren’t invited.”

Jess blinks at the ceiling, something unfamiliar settling in her chest. “Oh,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically breathless.

Sam exhales, almost like she’s bracing herself. “Don’t sound so surprised, Jess. You’re…” she trails off, lets out a sigh. “Just—don’t make fun of me, alright?”

“Why would I—”

“Just promise.”

Jess hesitates, but relents anyway, as she always did with Sam. “Okay. I promise.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, Sam says softly, “this feels so middle school to admit, but… you’re my best friend. I hope you know that.”

Jess feels that same unfamiliar thing tugging at her chest.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

.

.

“Jess? Are you still there?”

She blinks, realizes she hasn’t said anything in too long. “Yeah, sorry. I was just processing.”

“Processing, huh? So, I’m guessing it’s not reciprocated?”

Jess presses her fist against her forehead, eyes squeezing shut like that’ll somehow help, like it’ll keep everything from spilling over. “Sam, you’re joking, right?”

“Kinda? I mean, I can’t just assume I’m your best friend. That would be kinda conceited wouldn’t it? Plus, you’re, like, campus royalty. Who knows… maybe I’m one of the millions of people you call before bed…”

Jess stares at the ceiling, lets the words sit there for a second. Then, quietly, she says: “No. Just you.”

“Right…” Sam drawls, like she doesn’t quite believe it.

Jess frowns. “Seriously, you don’t believe me?”

“Oh, come on, Jess. Half of the people on your squad are, like, obsessed with you. Tripping over their feet, obsessed, you know? Don’t tell me you don’t see it.”

“Oh, I see it,” Jess huffs out a small laugh. “But,” she pauses, pointedly, “they’re not… you. They don’t really know me beyond my “pretty” face.”

A beat.

Jess almost thinks that their call is cut off. Then–

“You do have a pretty face.”

She feels her face burn up, feels it travel from her neck down to her chest. Her brain frantically conjures a billion responses but none of them makes sense. They’re all jumbled, a flash of words in her brain that weren’t in the right order.

It’s official… Samantha Giddings has officially turned her brain into mush.

“Um,” she dumbly says. “Thanks. You’re…” she trails off, trying to ignore Sam snorting on the other line. “You’re pretty, too.”

“Right…” Sam drawls again in that voice that was starting to annoy Jess because it was true, and before Jess could open her mouth and word vomit into the phone, Sam speaks again. “Anyway. Think about the get-together thing okay?” she pauses, yawning. “I’m beat, so. I’m gonna sleep now. Thanks for talking to me, and dealing with this everyday.”

“You’re not a burden, you know?”

“You make me feel like I’m not.”

Chapter Text

If there’s one thing to know about Jess, it’s that she’s never normal about anything. She wasn’t normal about Emily back then, and she’s not normal about Emily now. They’ve always had this weird thing. Pre-Mike era, they were best friends, attached at the hip, spending way too much time at each other’s houses, painting their nails, gossiping about classmates.

Jess doesn’t really know when the jealousy started—when wanting to be like Emily turned into wanting to be her. And, yeah, it’s not something she’s proud of. Wasn’t back then, isn’t now. Though now… it feels different.

Her laptop screen glows in the dark, the only light in her room, as she scrolls through Emily’s Facebook page for the tenth time that day. She knows she shouldn’t. Knows she’s slipping into old habits. But… it’s hard. It’s hard not to compare.

Emily’s at Harvard now. Harvard. Working toward law school, because of course she is. And knowing Emily, she’ll do it. No question.

But looking through Emily’s page always leads her somewhere else. She clicks through the friend list, finds herself checking in on the others too. Chris has always been a film nerd, so it’s not shocking when she sees he’s majoring in something film-related. Ash is studying psychology, which somehow makes sense. She still posts pictures with Chris every now and then, but Jess can’t tell if they’re actually close anymore or if they’re just keeping up appearances.

Matt’s thriving in varsity football. Of course he is. Jess wonders if he actually loves it or if it’s just something to throw himself into. A distraction. An outlet.

And Mike—Mike’s studying criminology, which is… weird. She never would’ve guessed that in a million years.

And Josh?

Josh is back in treatment. Or at least, Jess hopes he is.

They found him in the mines, completely out of it, barely human. Jess had only seen him once after that—when she passed by his hospital room. He didn’t even look at her. His eyes had been so… empty.

Jess doesn’t like thinking about it. About how she played such a huge part in the prank, about how, deep down, she thinks it’s all her fault.

She doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until she’s already on Sam’s profile. She doesn’t know why. It’s not like she needs to check up on her—they actually talk. She literally just got off the phone with her ten minutes ago. Though, to be fair, Sam was tired, and it wasn’t a long call. Much to Jess’ dismay.

Still. There’s something about Sam that makes everything feel a little less loud. Even now, just looking at her profile, Jess feels her thoughts settle.

Her profile picture is a candid of her on her porch, grinning wide, one hand cupping her dog’s jaw. She looks happy. Like, actually happy. Before the wendigos, before Beth and Hannah, before everything went to shit.

Jess scrolls. Nature pictures. Tagged family photos. Sam has a huge extended family. She keeps scrolling, lets herself get lost in it, and before she even realizes it, she’s already at ninth-grade Sam—which, honestly, wasn’t even that hard to reach. Sam’s never really been a social media person.

Then—

Jess gets a notification, her phone lighting up beside her on the bed. She picks it up, unlocks it like it’s muscle memory, only to see a new message in the group chat.

Nothing’s set in stone yet, but their group chat—the one she was pretty sure would stay dead forever—suddenly isn’t. Chris’ stupid squirrel meme isn’t the last message anymore. Instead, it’s a mess of replies to Emily’s get together invitation. Some saying they’re in. Some saying they’re not sure. Some saying they’ll get back to her.

Maybe they’re all just as lost as her.

“So, did you think about the… get-together thing?” Sam’s voice is slow, careful.

Jess looks up from her laptop.

They’re at their usual corner booth in the campus café. Jess has an assignment she needs to finish—one that’s been giving her a hard time, one she’s using as an excuse not to fully process the fact that she might be seeing everyone again soon. Meanwhile, Sam’s just here for moral support. She’s on her laptop too, but Jess can tell she doesn’t have anything urgent.

She looks cute though, Jess thinks, the thought slipping in before she can stop it. Sam’s hair is in that bun she always wears, a black oversized hoodie hanging off her frame, paired with grey sweatpants—the embodiment of the college-girl-chic look.

“Yeah, I have,” Jess says.

“And?”

Jess tilts her head. “And… what?”

Sam shifts slightly, fingers tapping idly against her laptop. “Well… you said in the group chat that you’ll see.”

“Because I will see. I just don’t know yet,” Jess says, honest.

Sam hums, quiet for a second. Then, softer, “I hope you do come. I’d hate to go without you.”

Jess snorts. “Sam,” she starts, giving her a look, “you know they’d probably much rather you go than me, if they had to pick.”

Sam frowns, brows pulling together like the thought actually annoys her. “I mean, does that matter? What I mean is, I don’t really wanna go if you’re not. Plus, I just know you’ll go crazy in your dorm, scrolling through Facebook, trying to see if anyone’s live posting about it.”

Jess exhales a laugh before she can stop herself. Sam knows her too well, and it’s kind of ridiculous.

Which, of course, only makes Sam frown harder. “What? Why are you smiling?”

Jess shakes her head, still grinning. “It’s just—” she pauses, trying to school her expression, but the smile won’t go away. “You just know me too well.”

Sam rolls her eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “Yeah, well, that’s what months of very close friendship do, Jess.”

Jess opens her mouth to make a joke, something easy, something dumb, but instead, what comes out is—

“Do you ever think about how if none of that ever happened, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now?”

The shift is immediate. The lightness from before fades, like the words take up too much space between them.

Sam frowns again. “What do you mean?”

Jess exhales, fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. “Like… I don’t know. We weren’t even close before. Not really. We just sort of orbited each other but never actually talked. You were usually with Han, Ash, Chris… and I was with Em.” She hesitates, shrugs like it’s not that deep, even though it kind of is. “I don’t know. Is it weird to think about that?”

“I mean… I’ve thought about it too,” Sam admits.

Jess blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Sam nods, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “I mean, I wish it never happened. Of course I do. But at the same time… if it didn’t, we wouldn’t be here. And I don’t know, maybe that’s selfish to say. Probably. But we can’t change the past, no matter how much we want to.” She exhales, looking down at her coffee. “Everything that’s happened led us here. And as much as it sucks, as hard as it is to accept… I think maybe it was always meant to.”

Jess is quiet for a moment. So is Sam. The words just sit there, heavy between them.

“Well… maybe if none of it happened, we’d still be sitting here,” Jess says, voice softer now. “I think we would’ve ended up close either way.”

Sam tilts her head, considering. “Really? You think so?”

“Yeah, it’s like—I don’t know, God’s plan or something.” Jess waves a hand in the air, half-joking.

Sam snorts, shaking her head, and for some reason, it sends Jess straight back to that night. The night Sam had called her pretty over the phone, voice low, a little raspy.

Her chest warms, face flushing before she can stop it.

Does Sam ever think about that when she looks at her?

It’s not like it’s weird for someone to look at Jess and think that. People have always called her pretty. Objectively, she knows she is—blonde hair always in her usual double braids, strands framing her face just right, blue eyes the colour of the Tenerife Sea, freckles dusting her nose, lips full and pink.

But it’s different, knowing Sam has thought it too. That there’s been a moment—maybe more than once—where Sam’s hazel eyes have landed on her, and somewhere in the back of her mind, that thought flickered.

And Jess wouldn’t have even known.

What a thought, huh?

And maybe that was just normal, because Jess has looked at Sam plenty of times and thought about how pretty she was.

Like right now, for example. The way her hair’s falling loose from her bun, the way the sleeves of her hoodie swallow her hands when she tucks them into the cuffs. The way she tilts her head just slightly when she’s listening, like she actually cares about what Jess is saying.

Yeah. Totally normal.

“God’s plan… to make us be… closer?” Sam smirks, lazily stirring the last bit of foam in her latte.

Jess rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Yeah. I mean, we do make quite a pair,” she says, her foot accidentally knocking lightly against Sam’s under the table. “Very unlikely, sure. But we get along well, don’t we?”

Sam hums, tilting her head a little, eyes flicking toward her. “Yeah, we do. But, come on, Jess. Are you really gonna act like you weren’t secretly annoyed by my—what did Em say you called it? Right, environmental obsession?” Her voice is teasing, that familiar lilt Jess has heard a hundred times before, but for some reason, it lands differently now.

Jess fake gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. “Okay, what? Em spills my secrets now? First of all, that was forever ago,” she says, though she’s already laughing, shaking her head. She picks up her coffee, takes a slow sip, letting the warmth spread across her chest. “And, besides… I think it’s cute now.”

The words come out easy. Maybe too easy.

Sam stills, just for a second—so quick you’d miss it if you weren’t watching closely. But Jess was.

The café hums around them, the low murmur of students talking, the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. Someone laughs from another table, a chair scrapes against the tile, but all Jess can focus on is the way Sam’s fingers slightly flexed around her coffee cup, the way her shoulders go a little stiff before she forces herself to relax.

It’s subtle. Barely anything.

But Jess notices.

“Cute… really?” Sam drawls out, scrunching her nose (which, frankly, is not helping her beat the cute allegations).

“Yeah,” Jess shrugs, forcing her attention back on her laptop like she didn’t just say that. “It is,” she pauses, then says, like the president of clock-work deflection, “tons of guys are into that, you know.”

Sam snorts. “I really, highly doubt that, Jess.”

“Well—maybe the environmentally conscious guys. Speaking of which, are you interested in any of them?”

Jess doesn’t know why she asks that; why she suddenly cares. Maybe it’s just a best friend thing. Maybe it’s just because she’s haunted by how her previous bestfriendship ended because of a boy—but the mere thought of sharing Sam makes her feel… weird. Queasy.

And, yeah, Sam can have friends—obviously. That doesn’t bother Jess at all. But the idea of her having a boyfriend? Being interested in some… guy? That makes her feel something else entirely. And maybe it was just because she doesn’t think any guy deserves Sam at all. Or maybe it was because—

Sam scrunches her nose again. “Ugh, no. I’m not really interested in any guys right now—I mean in, like, anyone. Like, guys or—uh—girls. None. Neither. Like, not in the near future.”

That was… a strange series of sentences… if you could even call it that. Sam never stumbles over her words like that. Ever. And maybe Jess is reading too much into it, but… why even bring up girls? Like, it’s not like Sam’s into girls. Right?

No. That can’t be. Sam isn’t—

“Girls?” Jess blurts out, because apparently, her favorite hobby when it comes to Sam is saying things before thinking them through.

Sam’s fingers tighten around her coffee cup, just slightly, like she hadn’t meant to say that. She looks away, but Jess can see it now—the faintest shift in her expression, a small vein popping out of her neck, like her brain is scrambling for the right thing to say.

“I—” Sam exhales through her nose. “I was just—” A pause. Then, a quick shake of her head. “Nevermind.” She forces a laugh—too quick, too light. “Sorry for distracting you. Let’s just—let’s study.” She flips her attention back to her laptop, fingers tapping absently against the keys.

Huh.

Two weeks passed like two hours. One minute, Jess was stressing over that stupid assignment, and now she’s standing in front of her mirror, her bed completely wrecked with clothes, trying to figure out what to wear.

It shouldn’t matter. Not really. It’s not like they haven’t all seen her at her worst and at her best. But she just wants to look… put together. Like she’s fine. Like the events of that night don’t still sit heavy on her chest, don’t keep her up later than she’ll admit. And the proof of those late nights is right there—etched under her eyes, no amount of concealer could hide it.

She tugs at the hem of the crop top she threw on. Pink, kind of Y2K, cute. The waistband of her lacey underwear peeks out over her dark jeans—sexy, effortless. It should work. . . but then she thinks about that night. About what she was wearing then. And suddenly, she’s peeling the top off, grabbing a sweater instead and yanking it over her head before she can think twice.

It’s a knitted sweater, soft, oversized, with shaded colours of green, orange, and pink. Casual, but nice enough that it says she cares. Because she does.

She exhales, running a hand through her hair, deciding she’ll leave it down, and doesn't want to wear her hair in braids because, well.

But at least Mike isn’t coming. That would’ve been… a lot. Not because she still loves him—she doesn’t. She’s not even sure she ever really did. It just would’ve been awkward. Another layer of stress she’s not in the mood to deal with.

Her phone buzzes from her desk, and she rushes over to grab it, half-hoping, half-knowing who it is.

Sam: hey jess are u almost ready?

Jess smiles (doesn’t even realize she is) as she types back:

Jess: kinda — she attaches a photo of her disaster of a bed — but i’m struggling with what to wear.

Sam: you know they wont care what you wear :p

Jess huffs out a small laugh. Yeah, well, she does.

She flips the camera to the mirror, snapping a quick picture of her outfit. Casual, effortless—but she angles it just right, makes sure her hair looks good, makes sure her face looks pretty, not really sure why.

She sends it.

A few seconds later, Sam’s reply pops up.

Sam: you look nice

Jess stares at the message a little longer than necessary. Fingers hovering over the keyboard, debating what to say.

Just nice? she almost types out but stops herself before she can embarrass herself. Instead, she locks her phone, pretending like her heart isn’t doing something stupid in her chest.

Jess spends the entire walk to Sam’s car trying to shake off the jittery nerves crawling up her spine. Her scarf suddenly feels too tight, like it’s suffocating her, so she tugs it down, loosens it slightly. Her breath comes out in soft puffs in the cold night air, and she hugs her jacket closer around herself.

Which was maroon, by the way—not baby blue.

She got rid of that one a long time ago.

She just couldn’t stand looking at it anymore, couldn’t stand scrubbing at the fabric, trying to get rid of blood stains that would never really come out. Even when they weren’t visible anymore, she knew they were there.

So, yeah. The blue jacket was gone. But, apparently, old habits die hard, because she still ended up buying the same jacket—just in a different color.

Maybe she could make better memories in this one. Start over. Or at least, try.

The moment Jess spots Sam’s dark red car pulling up around the corner, some of the anxiety eases—just a little. Which, at this point, seems to be her standard reaction to anything involving Sam.

She steps up to the passenger side, leaning down to glance inside before opening the door. Sam’s sitting there, hair still up in that bun she always wears, her focus completely on her phone as she scrolls mindlessly. She hasn’t noticed Jess yet.

Jess takes a second. Just a small one. Sam’s wearing a knitted sweater too—one with tiny, stupidly cute cats on it. Jess smiles before she even realizes it. Then, she knocks on the window. Hard.

Sam jumps so hard she nearly drops her phone.

Jess loses it, laughing as she slides into the car. The second she shuts the door, she’s hit with the familiar mix of Sam’s lavender air freshener and something distinctly Sam. Wood and citrus. She ought to ask what perfume she wears someday.

“You scared the crap out of me, Jessica!”

Jess is still cracking up as she buckles her seatbelt, trying to get the words out. “Sorry. It’s just so—” she chokes on another laugh, shaking her head, “—so funny, Sam. I’m sorry.”

Sam rolls her eyes but she’s smiling, so Jess knows she’s forgiven. “Whatever.”

Jess exhales, grinning as she settles into her seat. Then, after a beat, she says, almost absentmindedly, “You look nice too, by the way.”

She doesn’t even notice at first—the way her gaze lingers, tracing over Sam’s face like she’s mapping something out, committing every little detail to memory. The way the lamplight catches in Sam’s eyes, making her hazel eyes look softer. The way her lips part slightly, and instead of realizing she’s staring, Jess’ gaze just drifts lower, following the movement, settling on the curve of her lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Then, a thought—quick, loud, completely insane—

“Thanks,” Sam says, voice a little unsteady.

Jess blinks. Hard. Once, twice. Snapping out of it so fast she feels a little lightheaded.

What the hell was that?

“So…” Sam drawls, breaking the silence. She gives Jess a look, eyes slightly narrowed like she’s trying to figure her out. “Are you okay? You don’t have to be so nervous about the get-together, you know? I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

Right. The get-together. Jess almost forgot about that.

She exhales, nodding a little too fast. “Yeah. I know.”

At least Sam thinks her weirdness is about that and not… whatever just happened… which is good. Because Jess is definitely not unpacking that right now. Or ever. And she doesn’t even want to know where her thoughts were about to go before Sam pulled her back out.

The drive to Emily’s apartment takes about thirty minutes. Which means thirty minutes of Jess staring out the window, watching the trees blur past, while Sam’s mixtape—actual, literal mixtape—plays through the car speakers. It’s all love songs and sad songs, because of course it is. Jess thinks it’s equally cool and nerdy that Sam knows how to burn CDs. Maybe one day she’ll ask for one.

She exhales, sinking a little into her seat. It’s funny. She spent so long avoiding Sam—walking past her in the quad, pretending not to see her in the dining hall. Back then, it had felt impossible. Like starting a conversation with Sam would unravel something Jess wasn’t ready for.

And now? Now, she’s in Sam’s car, breathing in the familiar scent of citrus and wood, watching the streetlights flicker across her face like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Jess swallows. When did that change?

They finally pull up to the building, and the nerves creep back in as they walk to the entrance. Jess tries to push them down, but then Sam’s hand darts out, finds hers, fingers slipping between like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal. Her hand is warm. Grounding. Jess feels herself exhale, some of the tension melting away.

The elevator doors slide open, and she steps inside with Sam still holding her hand. A little screen in the corner plays the news, the weather—something about an incoming cold front. Jess watches it like it’s actually interesting, trying to focus on anything but the way Sam’s thumb is slowly running over her knuckles.

They stop in front of Em’s door, and Sam turns to her, gives her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. Jess barely is able to stop herself from making a noise of protest.

“You ready?” Sam whispers, eyes soft.

“I guess.” Her voice wobbles slightly, and she hates that. She wishes Sam would just keep holding her hand. Wishes she could ask her to.

But it’s too late—Sam’s already knocking, and before Jess can fully brace herself, the door swings open. The first thing she registers is the music. Loud. The low hum of conversation, overlapping voices. They’re already here.

Em pulls Sam in for a hug, then Jess, but it barely even registers because Jess is too busy scanning. Her eyes flick past Em’s shoulder, searching the apartment.

Chris and Ash are at the dining table, talking with Matt. The warm glow of the chandelier spills over them, makes the whole thing look stupidly cozy—like something out of a Hallmark Christmas movie.

They’re laughing together. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were fine. Maybe they are. Maybe it’s just her and Sam who are still stuck in it. And something bitter curls in Jess’ chest, and it makes her feel selfish as hell.

“Wait… so, you and Chris are…” Sam trails off, grinning as she absentmindedly twirls her pasta with her fork.

Jess isn’t even paying attention to the conversation. Not really. She knows she should be, but her eyes keep drifting back to Sam. She can’t help it.

It’s like Sam’s become this weird kind of safety net—this thing Jess clings to without thinking. Like if she looks away for too long, everything shifts. Everything feels different. Feels like she’s back on that mountain, like the walls of this apartment aren’t real, like the laughter around her is just white noise.

Does everyone else feel like that too?

Because looking around, they don’t seem like they do. They look put together. Normal. Maybe they are. Or maybe they’re just better at hiding it.

“Yeah, I mean… after that night, we decided to stay together. Be official,” Ash says. Jess’ eyes flick to her now, catching the way she squeezes Chris’ hand on the table, the way they share a small, soft smile. “We survived together, you know? It’d be a shame to let the special thing we have go.”

Jess watches them for a second longer before, instinctively, her gaze shifts—drifting toward Em and Matt across the table.

Are they still together?

Em catches her eye.

Jess looks away immediately, dropping her gaze to her plate like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

The chatter continues. Everyone’s catching up. Laughing, swapping stories. Jess, who once upon a time would’ve been the loudest voice in the room, barely says much. She only speaks when she has something to say, or when someone asks her a direct question.

She talks about college, her major. She talks about Sam. About how, despite everything—despite the chaos of classes and papers and exams (which, honestly, is way easier to deal with than wendigos ever were)—they found each other.

Ash had raised her brows at that, smiled a little, said something about how she never would’ve guessed they’d ever be this close.

Chris had shrugged. “Makes sense, though. You guys go to the same college. Just… circumstantial.”

That irks Jess, more than she expects it to.

Because, okay, sure. Maybe that’s technically true. Maybe if they hadn’t ended up at the same school, things would be different. But she doesn’t want to believe that. She doesn’t want to believe that what they have is just some accident, some random coincidence.

Because they feel too good together for it to just be that.

She likes to think that, even without all this chaos, she still would’ve had Sam.

But the world was cruel. Maybe in some other universe, Jess had chosen a different college. Maybe in that universe, she’d never feel the peace that Sam gives her. She doesn’t even want to think about it.

After dinner, Em and Ash disappear into the kitchen to check on something they’ve apparently been baking since before Jess and Sam even got here. Matt and Chris are off in the corner, deep in conversation about horror movies.

Jess finds herself standing beside Sam, leaning her side against the wall, naturally. She eyes Sam for a moment. The way her shoulders seemed relaxed, the way her eyes seemed a little brighter.

“Hey,” she says softly after a while, making Sam look at her.

“Hey,” Sam says, smiling. A moment passes, then, her head dips slightly, and she leans slightly closer. “Are you okay?”

Jess exhales, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her sweater. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot, you know?”

Sam nods, watching her carefully. “Yeah. I get that.” Her eyes flick toward the others for a second before landing back on Jess. “I’m a little overwhelmed too, honestly. But… it’s nice. Seeing everyone.”

Jess follows her gaze, takes in the warmth of the apartment, the hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter from the kitchen.

It all feels so normal.

Almost too normal.

“Isn’t it weird we haven’t talked about… the elephant in the room?”

Sam tilts her head, lips quirking up slightly. “What elephant? We should call PETA.”

Jess gives her a look. “Sam.”

Sam sighs, the smile fading. “Yeah, I know. I think they just wanna hang onto some normalcy or something. Maybe it still hurts for them too. I mean, it still does for me,” she admits, voice quieter now.

Jess watches her for a second. “You think it still bothers them too?”

“I don’t doubt it,” Sam says, shaking her head slightly. “You don’t come out of what we went through and suddenly, what? Life is great? You’re law school-bound, you’re on track to be part of the NFL?” Her tone is light, almost joking, but something in it isn’t. Jess blinks, caught off guard. But before she can say anything, Sam keeps going. “Like, okay, yeah. They are. But… I know what it’s like to hide it.” Her eyes flick toward the others, lingering just for a moment. “I can see it in their eyes.”

When Jess doesn’t say anything for a little too long, Sam looks at her. “Do you want to talk about it with them?”

Jess sits with it for a moment before responding. “No, not really. It’s different with you,” she says, lightly hitting Sam’s shoulder with her own, trying to lighten the mood.

Sam rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

As Em and Ash reappear in the living room, Em already suggesting a movie or a game, Jess realizes the night isn’t over. Not even close. And the way her stomach twists when Sam shifts beside her? Yeah. That’s not over either.

Chapter Text

“Jess, just answer the question,” Em slurs, barely keeping herself upright. Her upper body sways slightly, and Jess figures if she just changes the topic, Em probably wouldn’t even notice.

Sam would though.

Jess exhales, crossing her arms. “Why do I have to answer this stupid question?”

She can hear laughter from the kitchen—Ash, Chris, and Matt talking about something—and she wishes she was there instead. Anywhere but here, sitting cross-legged on Em’s carpeted floor with a very sober Sam and a very drunk Em, both watching her, waiting.

“Because that’s how truth or dare works, dummy,” Em grins, and for a second, Jess is right back in middle school.

Em’s always been like this. Pushy. And Jess? She’s always given in. It’s muscle memory at this point. She lets out a long sigh, just about to answer when…

“Jess, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Sam cuts in, voice calm, steady. The steadiest voice in the whole apartment, probably, because she’s the only one here who hasn’t had a drink.

“Really, Sam? What, are you her knight in shining armour now?” Em mutters, a sharp edge creeping into her voice.

Sam frowns, shifts slightly like she’s about to say something, but before she can, Jess cuts in.

“Em, stop. You’re drunk—”

“Don’t—don’t do that, Jess,” Em snaps, her eyes flicking down, tracking the way Sam’s hand finds Jess’ thigh, almost protectively. Em scoffs, eyes back on Jess like she’s picking apart every detail. “And this little get-up? Just wonderful, isn’t it?”

“Em…” Jess warns, voice more pointed now.

Em tilts her head, eyes flashing. “What? You gonna steal Sam’s boyfriend too someday?”

Jess barely has time to react before Sam exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose like she’s holding something back. Like this conversation has already gone too far. “Em, seriously? We’ve been through so much, and this is what you want to bring up? I thought this was supposed to be about getting everyone together, and now you’re just—” she cuts herself off, sighing. Frustrated.

There’s a pause—just a second too long to be comfortable—before Sam speaks again. Her voice is quieter now. “Em, do you want some water?”

The shift is so sudden Jess barely processes it. Sam’s frustration is gone, replaced with something else. Concern.

Jess frowns, glancing at Sam, then back at Em. She follows Sam’s gaze, and really looks at Em.

Her face is flushed. Her breathing isn’t steady. Her hands are gripping the hem of her sweater just a little too tight. And that’s when it clicks. Em isn’t okay. She never was. Behind the 4.0 GPA, the perfectly curated Facebook posts, the big smile and clever comebacks—she’s just as broken as the rest of them.

Jess’ anger fades so fast she doesn’t even have time to process it.

Sam’s already moving, already standing, already grabbing Jess’ wrist and pulling her with her before she can think too hard about it. They make it to the kitchen, Jess standing at the edge while Sam rifles through drawers like she’s on a mission. The others are still talking somewhere in the background, their voices muffled, distant.

Finally, Sam finds a glass, shoves it under the faucet. As she waits for it to fill, she glances over—quick, almost imperceptible—but Jess catches it anyway. The way her eyes soften.

Then, just as fast, she’s turning back, moving again, dragging Jess with her like she needs her to stay close. Jess sinks onto the couch, her brain buzzing with static. Turns out, not drinking for a while makes you kind of a lightweight.

She barely processes anything as she watches Sam kneel in front of Em, gently pulling her down beside her on the couch. Watches the way she brushes Em’s dark hair back, wipes a damp rag across her forehead—where did she even get that?—tilts the glass to Em’s lips, holding her chin steady as she drinks.

“You’re okay,” Sam murmurs, voice low, steady.

Jess watches her, watches the way she just knows what to do, and thinks—God, she wishes she was more like Sam.

Jess had been so quick to snap, so quick to go on the defensive, slipping right back into old habits like none of it ever happened. Like everything they went through on that mountain wasn’t bigger, heavier, more real than any of the stupid drama they used to care about.

Sam must sense it somehow, must pick up on the way Jess has gone completely silent, because she looks over. Eyes steady, searching. Like she’s listening to something Jess hasn’t even said out loud.

Jess watches the way her hand hesitates, the smallest pause, like she’s debating whether she should reach for her instead.

But Sam’s been there for her a lot.

A lot.

Past Jess? She probably would’ve done anything to shift the focus onto herself. To get someone to check on her first.

But this Jess? She shakes her head slightly, just enough for Sam to catch it. A silent, I’m okay. Stay with Em.

And Sam, because she’s Sam, understands.

“Is she okay?” Jess asks the second Sam steps out of Em’s room.

Sam nods, exhaling as she throws a thumb over her shoulder. “Yeah. Matt’s with her.”

For a second, they just stand there. Jess takes Sam in—the way her sweater hangs loose on her frame, the way exhaustion tugs at the corners of her mouth. Jess knows she should be thinking about Em, about how tonight completely fell apart, but all she can think is, God, Sam is so… good. Too good.

She looks soft standing there, with her big hazel eyes and that damn cat sweater. The world doesn’t deserve her.

Jess lets out a breath, rubbing at the back of her neck. “That was… a lot.”

Sam huffs out a laugh, running her hand down her face. “Yeah. But, hey, you handled it well.”

Jess scoffs. “Did I? ‘Cause I think I was two seconds away from saying something I’d regret.”

“Maybe,” Sam shrugs, her lips twitching. “But you didn’t.”

Jess watches the way Sam’s fingers card through her hair, pushing a few loose strands away from her face. She wonders what it would feel like to reach out and do it for her. The thought comes so quickly it startles her.

She looks away. “Um, we should go check on Chris and Ash.”

Sam nods. “Yeah, we probably should.”

They make their way back to the living room.

Chris is on the couch, flipping a Rubik’s cube around like he’s actually getting somewhere with it. Ash is standing by the window, arms crossed, gaze distant. But when she hears them walk in, her head snaps up, eyes immediately locking onto them.

“Hey, is Em okay?” she asks carefully.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Sam says. “Just had too much to drink. Matt’s with her.”

Ash nods, but Jess watches the way her shoulders stay tense, the slight pull in her brows.

She doesn’t know what happened between Em and Ash that night. But something did, and for whatever reason, it feels like there’s an unspoken rule that they’re not supposed to talk about it. Jess doesn’t know why. But she wasn’t gonna ask either.

“I’m…” Ash starts after a moment, then hesitates, fingers tightening where they’re crossed over her stomach. “I’m really glad to see you guys again. I thought…. I thought we weren’t gonna talk ever again.”

She shifts on her feet, glancing toward Chris, who’s still messing with his Rubik’s cube.

“I was there when he sent that squirrel meme, you know?” she says after a second. “I was the one who told him to send it. He didn’t really want to.”

Jess watches the way Chris doesn’t look up, the way his fingers keep moving, turning the cube over and over.

She thinks about what Sam said earlier—about how you don’t just walk away from something like that night and end up fine.

Yeah.

She gets it now.

“I thought the meme was funny,” Sam supplies, and then looks at Jess as if she wanted her to say something.

“Yeah,” Jess forces herself to say. “Though, I don’t really remember what it was now, to be honest.”

“Wouldn’t take much scrolling to find it again,” Ash jokes, and Jess finds herself laughing softly, Sam joining her.

And then they were all laughing—except for Chris, who was in his little bubble.

Maybe… just maybe, things could feel normal again. But Jess just needed to accept that normal now isn’t the same as the normal back then. Whether that night happened or not, things were going to change anyway.

And maybe that’s okay.

At some point in the night, she ends up in the corner with Ash while Sam and Chris are on the other side of the room, laughing about something.

Jess watches them for a second, thinking about how they’re probably talking about nerdy shit. That’s what she’s always thought whenever she saw them together. But this time, there’s something different about it. She barely registers the fondness creeping in.

“You know, I think Chris is wrong,” Ash says, pulling Jess’ attention back to her.

Jess looks at her properly now. She’s ditched that beanie she never used to take off, and her auburn hair is longer, past her shoulders. Even though she’s barely past twenty—just like Jess—there are some faint lines on her forehead that make her look a little older. Probably from stress. But if anything, it just makes her look more herself.

“Wrong about what?” Jess asks, tilting her head slightly.

Ash smiles, gaze flicking back toward Sam and Chris. “About you and Sam.”

“What about me and Sam?”

“I don’t think it was circumstantial.” Ash shrugs, like it’s obvious. “I think you and her were always meant to be close. I see it now. Sure, it took some—” she pauses, like she’s debating whether or not she should say it “—grave circumstances for you two to finally get there... You’re loud and annoying sometimes—” Jess makes a face. “—with love,” Ash adds, letting out a soft laugh, “and Sam’s so grounded and chill, you know? It’s, like, a match made in heaven.”

Jess just stares at her.

Ash takes that as a cue to keep going. “Platonically.”

“Right.”

“That’s all it is, right?” Ash asks, watching her closely.

Jess forces a laugh, ignoring the way her palms feel weirdly clammy. “What are you getting at, Ash?”

Ash just shrugs. “That’s all it is? Platonic? Best friends?”

Jess feels her stomach drop straight through the floor. Her eyes widen, eyebrows slowly disappearing into her hairline. She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Nothing comes out.

Ash watches her, amused. “Jess? Have I broken you?”

“Ash—what are you even—how could you say that! I’m not—she’s not—! That’s not even… no. It’s just platonic.”

Ash rolls her eyes, but she’s smirking now. “You know it’s not bad to be… into girls.”

Jess scowls. “I know that. I’m not—” she leans in, voice dropping, brows furrowing. “I’m not… homophobic.”

“Yeah, well. Based on your reaction, you’re either homophobic or just incredibly in denial about what’s going on between you and Sam—”

“Nothing’s going on,” Jess says way too fast, her voice clipped. “We’re just friends. Besides… Sam’s not…” she trails off, gesturing vaguely.

Ash raises a single brow. “Do you really believe that? You think she goes to the gym everyday to impress men?”

Jess sits with it for a moment. “Well, she could be doing it for—oh, I don’t know—herself, maybe? C’mon, Ash. Get with the times!”

“Yes, or…” she pauses dramatically. “Or… she could be doing it to impress women—” Jess frowns. “—or you.”

“Oh, you’re so out of it, Ash,” Jess scoffs, grabbing the glass off of Ash’s hands. “You need to stop drinking before you start trying to convince me the Earth is flat.”

“Hey!” Ash says with a laugh taking back her drink. “I’m just being honest.”

Jess watches as Ash brings the drink to her lips, before the sound of Sam’s laughter drags her eyes over to her like a magnet, as Ash said.

“See?” Ash says knowingly.

Jess just punches her shoulder lightly, but she’s smiling.

Thirty minutes later, Em comes out of her room, slightly less flushed and slightly less disheveled. Matt’s trailing behind her with a water bottle and a towelette on his shoulder. Jess barely has time to process anything before Em’s dragging her to the kitchen, everyone’s eyes on them.

They stand in the kitchen for a moment without talking. Jess is looking at her, tracing the lines under her eyes and the frown on her lips that she was afraid would leave permanent marks. Meanwhile, Em is looking at the ground as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room while picking at some loose skin on her thumb.

“So,” Jess starts, voice careful. “Do you… feel better?”

Em’s still for a beat. Then, softly, “I’m sorry, Jess.“

Jess, caught off guard, opens her mouth but Em shakes her head and continues.

“I’m sorry for blowing up on you earlier, I was just… I don’t know. It’s not fair to you. We’ve been through a lot for me to bring up past stupid drama.”

Jess shifts, feeling the familiar guilt curling in her chest. “I mean, I get it. What I did was shitty…”

“It was,” Em says, letting out a short humourless laugh.

Jess watches her as she continues to fiddle with the skin on her thumb. It was distracting Jess, making her want to pick at her own skin, too, but she pressed her thumb into her palm to stop herself.

“But that is nothing compared to what Mike did to me. You think—” she cuts herself off, sighs exasperatedly. “I won’t let that dickwad ruin any friendships I had.”

“I ruined it. Not him.”

The words settle between them for a moment. Jess can hear the faint chatter in the living room, can hear the faint rustle and bustle of the city below them. She can almost also hear the scrape of skin as Em continues to play with that piece of skin on her thumb.

“Years of friendship, though, ruined over a boy? Come on. We’re almost twenty two. We shouldn’t—we shouldn’t let it go just over that, you know?” Em says, gesturing vaguely with her hand. “I mean, we almost died, for fuck’s sake.”

Jess smirks. “Wow, who knew Emily Davis was such a softie.”

Em’s brows furrow, but a small smile tugs on her lips. “Don’t make me take anything back, Jessica. You’re still on thin ice. A very very thin one. You’re just lucky I know you won’t steal Matt too.”

“And how do you know that?” Jess jokes, smirking. “He is pretty cute after all.”

“Oh, Jessica… everyone but you can see how…” then Em just trails off very mysteriously. Jess narrows her eyes at her.

“How what?”

“Nevermind.”

“Em!”

“It’s really not my place,” Em mutters, smirking.

“Oh, you are so evil. You know I hate ambiguous statements like that.”

They laugh together and then a moment of silence settles between them. Em crosses her arms, face contorting into a thoughtful expression—which was either a good or bad thing based on Jess’ experiences.

Then, Em says, “Why did you go after Mike?”

When Jess just stares at her, Em continues.

“I mean, sure. He's cute, I guess. Until you actually talk to him,” she says, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “And, yeah, lots of girls were into him, but… I don’t know. It always seemed so…” she trails off, shaking her head. “Superficial between you two… like you were putting on a show. Like, when you started dating him, I never thought oh, right, Jess is dating him now because she likes him. I never thought that. It was more like… confusion…”

Jess’ brows pull together as she sits with her words. “Confusion? About what? About how someone like Mike could like me or…?”

“How someone like you could like him,” Em clarifies. “I don’t think you ever liked him. Let alone loved him. Am I right?”

Jess’ confusion grows. “Um… I… I don’t—I mean, I thought I did. Maybe? Maybe not?”

“Interesting…” Em drawls out.

And what’s that supposed to mean?

“Why are you and Ash being so weird tonight? Let me guess, this is about me and Sam, right?” Em makes a face, but doesn’t say anything so Jess continues. “Like, I don’t get it! We’re just friends. Sam doesn’t like me in that way, like, at all, and I—” Jess cuts herself off to breathe, and she intends to continue right away, but she finds herself pausing for some reason.

“And you…?” Em says slowly, conspicuously.

“I don’t think I do.”

“You don’t think you do?” she repeats, deadpan. “Jesus…”

“I’m straight, Em.” She says it fast. Too fast. Like if she gets it out quick enough, she won’t have to sit with it. Won’t have to think about the way her stomach feels right now.

Jess expects Em to argue, to roll her eyes, to push. But she doesn’t. She just smirks and pats Jess on the shoulder before turning toward the living room.

And Jess should be relieved. She should be.

So why does her chest feel tight?

After too many goodbyes and too many promises to see each other sooner than last time, Jess and Sam are finally alone in Sam’s car. Sam doesn’t start the engine right away. They just sit there for a second, headlights cutting through the dark, as if neither of them are ready to leave yet. As if they’re still processing.

Jess leans her head back against the seat. Ash and Emily’s voices still echo in her head, like an alarm she can’t snooze. She doesn’t know how to deal with what they said. Like… how is she supposed to process that?

No one had ever accused her of swinging that way before. She was Jess. Jess, who spent half of high school pining over Em’s stupid boyfriend. Jess, who grew up daydreaming about what kind of husband she’d have, what kind of kids they’d have.

Being straight was like knowing how to walk. But now? She’s not so sure. Now, it feels… weird.

She glances at Sam, watches the way her fingers idly drum against the steering wheel. She should just let it go. Let the night settle, leave the teasing in the past, but her stomach is twisting in a way she can’t ignore.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she says, “Did…” Her voice comes out hoarse. She swallows, tries again. “Did Ash and Em talk to you about anything weird tonight?”

Sam looks at her, her hazel eyes turning into that dizzying colour it always does when the light hits it. For the first time in months, it makes her nervous.

“Huh?” she mutters, head tilting just slightly. “Anything weird? Like what? That’s very ambiguous.”

Jess huffs. “I know. Just—have they? Like, said something out of the ordinary to you?”

Sam shakes her head. “No,” she says easily. “We mostly talked about school. Other stuff.”

Jess exhales and looks away. “Okay.”

“Why? Did they say anything weird to you?”

And, yeah, Jess should've seen this coming. Sam was perfect, and she is, but her biggest weakness has always been curiosity. She can’t let anything go.

“No,” Jess lies. And, fuck. It sounds so bad. Too strained, too obviously a lie. She curses herself mentally.

Sam narrows her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

“You are,” Sam says, smiling now. “Everytime you lie, your eyebrows twitch slightly, and you can’t make eye contact, too.” When Jess doesn’t say anything, just stares at the air freshener ornament hanging on Sam’s rearview mirror, Sam continues. “C’mon, Jess. You can tell me. I can totally keep secrets.”

Jess can’t help but smile at that. “You’re notoriously bad at keeping secrets, actually.”

“What? I totally can. I’ve got—”

Jess looks at her now, sees the almost imperceptible shift in Sam’s face as she cuts herself off. Curious, Jess prods. “You’ve got what? Secrets?”

Sam’s hand twitches on her lap. Sam doesn’t know, but Jess also knows when she’s lying. “No. I don’t have any secrets. Not even one. I’m an open book,” Sam says, now smiling innocently.

“Is that right?” Jess asks, playing along.

“Yup,” she says, popping the ‘p’.

“Okay, so how about I ask you a question…”

Sam slightly turns towards her, intrigued. “Go on.”

“Two weeks ago, at the café—you said something about girls…” Jess trails off, watching Sam’s face slowly drop. "Remember that?"

And Jess knows she remembers, can see it all over Sam’s face. But she asks anyways, mainly so she could settle her own nerves. She doesn’t want to ask Sam what she’s about to ask, but it’s been racking her brain for two weeks now—which was something she was trying not to think about while Ash and Em were interrogating her.

“Remember what?” Sam says, because of course she’s deflecting.

“Sam,” Jess gives her a look.

“Can you just be a little tiny bit specific, Jessica.”

“How much more specific can I be?”

“Just try,” Sam insists and Jess sees it now—that Sam’s only doing this because she thinks Jess won’t say it outright, won’t say it directly. Jess usually tiptoes around things, but no—this? This is too important.

“Fine. You want bluntness? Old Jess is back—do you like girls?” A beat. She can see Sam opening her mouth to respond, but Jess cuts in. “Don’t deflect. Be honest. And if you’re not ready to tell me, just say that, too.”

Sam’s lips press together like she’s weighing her next move. Jess has known Sam long enough to recognize that flicker of hesitation, the one she only gets when she’s deciding whether to be honest or careful.

And then, finally—quiet, steady, like a choice already made, she says: “I do.”

Jess blinks. Her throat feels dry.

“What?” It comes out too sharp, too stunned, like she didn’t just hear it clearly the first time. But she did.

And then—oh. Okay. Jess, calm down. She can feel her heart rate rising as her brain unhelpfully supplies images of Sam with a—faceless, nameless—girl. Images of Sam doing things she’s already doing with Jess, but with another girl—and also with, you know, kissing—God, she’s thinking about Sam kissing a girl. Why does that look so…

“Oh my God, stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!” she hears her own voice screaming in her head as she tries to erase the images she was conjuring—Sam’s slender fingers threading into this—nameless, faceless—girl’s hair as they kissed, Sam softly panting into soft pink lips. Now she’s trying to ignore how this hypothetical girl is slowly turning blonde, slowly having blue eyes—nope.

“Jess?”

“Yeah?” she squeaks, blinking hard. She realizes she’s been staring—probably for too long. Her face is burning and she feels the warmth travelling down her neck. She tugs on her collar, hoping it would help her breathe.

“Are you… okay?” Sam asks slowly, eyebrows furrowing, finding now to be the best time to place her hand gently on Jess’ arm as if to ground her.

Jess can feel the warmth of Sam’s arm through the multitude of layers she was wearing—how was that even possible?—God, she’s making it worse. God, she needs to say something supportive and stop being a damn mess. Sam’s her friend, her best friend, damn it. And Jess is being a bad friend, a bad ally—

Okay, breathe.

In and out.

In and out—

“Yeah! Yeah, totally fine,” Jess finally says, way too fast, nodding like a bobblehead. “I mean, that’s great! That’s cool! Girls! You like girls? Love that for you.”

God, kill her.

Sam blinks. Then, slowly, she smirks. “You love that for me?”

“I mean—yes! I mean—not like that, I just—” Jess groans, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Sam watches her, lips twitching. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Silence settles between them for a second. Then, softer, Sam says, “Thanks for being cool about it. I was kinda nervous about telling you because, God, you’re so—I don’t know. You’re a cheerleader. And you own, like, a million pairs of Lululemon leggings.”

Jess bites down on her tongue gently, fighting the urge to defend herself.

“I just never really heard you talk about gay people before, so I didn’t know where you stood,” Sam continues, voice quieter now. “And, honestly? I was bracing for the possibility that you’d, like, throw yourself out of the car and roll into traffic.” She huffs out a breath, shakes her head. “I know how… straight girls can be about people like me.”

Jess takes a breath, fingers drumming against her thigh as she tries to find the right words. The last thing she wants is to say something stupid and hurt Sam’s feelings. She already fumbled her first reaction—she’s not about to make it worse.

“I… I really don’t care if you’re bi, straight, lesbian, or whatever, Sam. You’re my best friend. You could be a worm and I’d still take care of you. I’d feed you, make you a little bed, read you bedtime stories. Maybe even dress you up—”

“Okay, I get it with the worm thing,” Sam cuts in, huffing out a laugh, shaking her head. But her voice is soft, and Jess doesn’t miss the way her lips curve slightly, like she’s trying to fight a smile. “That’s really sweet, Jess.”

“I mean it, though,” Jess says, quieter now, but firmer. She lifts her other hand, rests it on top of Sam’s, where it still lingers on her arm. Her thumb moves absentmindedly over Sam’s knuckles, tracing slow, thoughtless patterns.

“You’re…” she starts, but the words feel too big, too heavy. “You’re literally the best thing in my life right now.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, just watches her. Listens.

Jess exhales, tries to steady herself. “I was feeling so lost. So alone. Despite everything I had going on. Y’know: cheer, friends, parties. They were just distractions. Things to keep me from looking at what I didn’t want to see. But you…” Her throat tightens. She forces herself to keep going. “You made me want to face it. You made me stronger. Made me believe in myself. That I can get better. That there’s… things in this world that—” she swallows again, voice going small. “That are worth sticking around for.”

Sam’s fingers curl slightly beneath hers. Jess looks up, meets her eyes, and suddenly, it feels like there’s nothing else in the world but this moment.

“So, yeah…” Jess murmurs, her voice sounding too dreamy—and maybe she is in the clouds right now. That’s certainly what it feels like.

Sam’s hand slowly flips up, their warm palms now against each other. Jess feels her fingers sliding up, slotting into Sam’s.

She ignores the warmth in her chest, the butterflies swirling in her stomach—silently, quickly, chalks it up to being caught up in the moment. “I’d be stupid to jump out of this car for that,” she says, then, softly, “not even a meteor could get me away from you, Sam.”

So, yeah.

Sam likes girls.

Jess isn’t homophobic. Of course, she’s not. After her speech, do you believe she is? Of course not.

But—and that’s a really big but—every time Jess catches Sam talking to a different girl on campus—walking, smiling, sitting and laughing—Jess has this weird feeling in her chest. Like it’s caving in on her. Does that mean she’s homophobic? How do you even know if you’re homophobic or not?

And don’t even get Jess started on that secret Sam mentioned in the car. Maybe the secret was her liking girls, but what if… it wasn’t? What if Sam likes somebody. They’ve been comfortable talking about their feelings, their trauma, but they’ve never talked about their love lives.

(Well, it’s not like Jess has a love life to talk about— Jess has been finding herself so disinterested in dating. Maybe it’s because there were no interesting boys around, nobody hot enough to catch her attention. But Jess knew that wasn’t true either. There’s tons of boys on campus that would’ve turned her head a while ago. But now? She doesn’t know. Maybe her standards have risen.

Or maybe—

No, she’s not going there).

And, yeah. She was still avoiding thinking about what Em and Ash had said That Night. She couldn’t afford to—not when she was already feeling so many weird, complicated things.

Some people sit and wonder if they’re gay. But does anyone ever sit and wonder if they’re… homophobic?

Jess finds herself turning to Lara, one of the girls on her squad. “Hey, what do you think about lesbians?”

Lara pauses mid-stretch, blinking at her. “What?”

Jess tilts her head. “You heard me.”

Lara exhales, shaking her head with a soft laugh, auburn ponytail swinging slightly. “Alright, captain. You want the version I tell my parents or the real version?”

Jess shrugs.

“I think they’re cool. What a life, huh? Not having to worry about stupid boys.” Lara grins, tilting her head. “And I’ve experimented with girls before—”

“You have?” Jess blurts, not even bothering to hide her curiosity.

Lara smirks, like she knows something Jess doesn’t. “Yeah.”

Jess stares at her. “How was it?”

Lara’s smirk deepens. “It was great. Soft hands, even softer lips.” She exhales, dreamy, like she’s actively replaying the memory in her head. “Girls just know what to do, you know?”

Like clockwork, Jess feels her stomach flip at the mere thought of it, an uncomfortable excitement pooling at the bottom of her stomach. She squashes it of course—which was just so Jess, incredibly oblivious about her own feelings.

Lara must see something in her face because she turns to her with a wicked grin. “You know, if you’re super curious—”

“Oh my God, Lara,” Jess cuts in, face burning.

Lara laughs. “I’m just saying. A girl can dream, right?” Her eyes drag down, slow, deliberate. Jess feels herself flush even redder.

“For what it’s worth,” Lara muses, lips curling, “whoever you’re asking about? They’d probably kill for a chance to get a piece of—”

“Lara!” Jess practically yelps, cutting her off.

Her brain, immediately and unhelpfully, conjures Sam. Sam’s hands, Sam’s lips, Sam’s—oh, fuck… Sam had been worried about coming out to Jess because of how straight girls react to gay girls. But had she ever thought about this? The other side of it?

About how maybe it’s not that Jess would be weird about it—not that she’d be uncomfortable, or grossed out, or whatever worst-case scenario Sam had built in her head—but that, after knowing, Jess wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.

Wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about Sam and kissing her senseless?

Oh…

She was completely and utterly fucked.

Chapter Text

Sam opens the door, the taste of whiskey still on her tongue, the burn still in her throat. But she manages a smile, doing her best to look put-together. “Hey. Come in.”

She hasn’t spoken to Jess in a year. She’s seen her around: in the quad, in the dining hall, in the library. She’s tried to make eye contact with her more times than she’d ever admit. But it was like Jess had blinders on, like she saw right through her. Like she didn’t want to look at Sam, wanted to leave her behind in the past, just like everything else they went through.

It’s not like Sam could blame her for that. How could she? She felt the exact same way.

She made sure to pick a college that would make her leave home and escape her town that knew everything that happened to her. The news—tabloids, articles—had made sure that they’d stayed anonymous. No photos. No names. They didn’t even mention where it happened—that would reveal a lot, wouldn’t it? And yet, it still came out—at least in Sam’s town. News travelled fast in small towns. It wasn’t exactly hidden, the fact that Sam kept disappearing for months for her psychological evaluations that Sam’s mother made sure she went to.

Her mother thought Sam was suicidal, and she couldn’t really blame her mother for thinking that. But at the same time, Sam didn’t go through all that shit to survive just to—what? End it all? No. She wanted to live, that’s why she’d fought so hard.

But she wanted to forget it happened. Losing Hannah and Beth was one thing, but that night… the fear she’d felt, even just from Josh’s prank? How he’d terrorized her? He was sick—Sam understood. But why had he terrorized her too? Did he think she had something to do with the prank? Blamed her for the disappearance of his sisters?

Sam already blamed herself enough for that.

If only she had found Hannah faster (God, fuck that big lodge, Sam constantly thought), then maybe Sam could’ve stopped the prank. And, yeah, Jess played such a big part in the prank. However, Sam couldn’t bring herself to fully blame her. It’s not fair to Jess. Pointing fingers, blaming people—it didn’t help anyone.

Besides, stepping back, looking at the bigger picture, all of them could be to blame. All of them. Chris and Josh shouldn’t have been black-out drunk. Sam should’ve found Hannah faster. Emily should’ve let her annoyance with Hannah’s crush go, maybe talked to her about it instead. Mike shouldn’t have participated in that prank—he had been the main star hadn’t he? Matt and Ash shouldn’t have stood aside like bystanders, filming, saying nothing. And Jess, of course, had even argued with Sam that night about it.

So, yeah, the blame game was convoluted. Unnecessary. Which was why Sam didn’t hate Jess.

But now, even after Sam survived, she’s haunted by that night constantly. Like she can’t escape the mines, can’t escape that lodge, can’t escape that night. It’s almost like she didn’t leave that mountain. Sometimes she thinks: what if she never escaped that lodge, she’s just actually dead and she’s in hell or something?

But now? With Jess standing in her dorm? Sam isn’t so sure she’s in hell anymore. Because Jess wouldn’t reach out to her first if she was.

And Jess?

Jess actually built a life for herself here. Picked up where she left off, slipped right back into cheer like nothing had changed. She was popular, too—always surrounded by people, laughter trailing behind her as she walked across campus. She’s magnetic. Always has been.

But Sam always noticed something off about her.

She remembered Jess in the hospital, the morning after. How empty her eyes had been, how she barely looked at Sam, barely registered she was even there. Like something had been hollowed out inside her. And Sam remembered the anger—the way it had settled, deep and seething, in the pit of her stomach. How the police had questioned them first, not as victims, but as suspects. Like they had something to do with the Stranger’s death—as if they could ever behead a person like that, cold-blooded.

Sam had wanted to scream. Jess had just sat there, silent, eyes dead set on the wall like she was seeing something Sam wasn’t.

But now… Jess is standing in her room, eyes darting around like she’s never seen a dorm before. Like she’s cataloging everything.

Sam’s gaze drifts downward, catching on Jess' hands. They’re trembling. Just barely, but enough that Sam notices. She watches as Jess curls her fingers into the cuffs of her sleeves, gripping tight, like she can force herself to be still. Like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

Sam doesn’t say anything.

She just steps back, lets the door click shut behind her, and waits.

It’s weird being this close to Jess now. Sam had gotten used to watching her from a distance, like she was something forbidden. Something out of reach. She knew she couldn’t talk to her, knew Jess would shut her out if she tried.

What she didn’t know was that someday, Jess would just randomly show up at her dorm.

No warning. No buildup. Just here, standing in Sam’s space like she hadn’t spent a whole year pretending Sam didn’t exist.

And Sam, well, she’d done the same thing Jess did.

She dove headfirst into school after months of psychological evaluations, after months of her mother hovering over her like she was something delicate, something shattered beyond repair. Which, in a way, she was—is.

The pain swirls inside her, the fear lingers in her waking moments and sinks its claws into her dreams. She doesn’t know how to deal with it. Her therapist tries, but Sam doesn’t even want to think about what happened, let alone talk about it. So she shoves it down and keeps herself busy—Environmental Club, Swim Club, Tennis Club—half of which she only went to a few meetings before quitting.

It doesn’t help.

It only pauses it.

And when she’s out of the meetings, when she’s alone in her dorm, with no distractions left to hold it at bay, the pain resumes. And consumes. And Sam consumes too—alcohol. To drown it all out. To help herself sleep.

She drinks until closing her eyes doesn’t make her see the Wendigos. Until she doesn’t see them perched on that chandelier in the lodge, long limbs, white eyes. Until she doesn’t feel the warm, rancid breath of one screaming right in her face.

She remembers that moment vividly. How much she’d forced herself to focus because everyone was depending on her. Because if she made a mistake, it wasn’t just her life at stake. And maybe if nobody had been depending on her, she would’ve died. But they were. So Sam made sure—forced herself—to stay still, to keep breathing, to survive.

Or else—

Or else it would have been her fault that her friends died. The Wendigos would’ve killed them all, Sam would have killed them all.

“Nice setup,” Jess says, bringing Sam back to the present. Sam blinks, trying to force herself to stay in the moment, to stop slipping into the past.

Jess is still looking around. Her voice is steadier, fuller. But Sam can’t stop thinking about how she’d sounded the morning after that night. Raspy, broken, empty.

“You’ve got the whole Pinterest vibe going on.”

Jess turns to her then, that signature smirk tugging at her lips. Sam can’t help but let out a small laugh—relieving almost—suddenly feeling very comfortable and warm—like she’s travelled back to a time where none of this happened. Like they were just normal students, talking about dorm decor choices.

And that’s how it started—how Jess started to slowly interweave herself into Sam’s life.

Sam was startled the first time Jess crashed one of her café study sessions. She remembered looking around, a little self-conscious (because, honestly, she wasn’t sure Jess would even want to be seen with her like this). But then there was Jess, standing in front of her table, pretending like she’d just run into her.

Sam knew she was pretending. But she acted like it wasn't completely obvious—the way Jess coincidentally had all her study materials in her bag. She had even pulled out a chair and invited herself to sit without waiting for Sam’s response.

So Sam played along.

Pretended she didn’t notice how Jess kept glancing at her between notes. Pretended she didn’t notice how Jess had ditched her usual group of friends that day, how she was sitting here with her instead. Pretended she didn’t notice how Jess was staring at her.

Did she have something on her face? Was there a coffee stain on her hoodie? She was too shy to ask.

The study sessions happened more often. Jess eventually stopped pretending like she just happened to be there and started to actually text Sam beforehand to plan with her. Sometimes Jess brought snacks, sometimes she leaned into her own laptop, studying away and sometimes she’d just steal glances at Sam, and Sam would pretend she didn’t notice.

Sam found Jess’ consistent presence in her life grounding… it is comforting in a way she’d never expect to get from Jess—of all people.

It felt like ever since that night, Jess had decided that she wanted to keep Sam in her life, and wanted to be around her. Sam couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was Jess’ way of coping with what happened. Maybe it felt better to know she was around somebody who knew exactly how she felt, who she could talk to without feeling judged or crazy (since information about the Wendigos had been kept out of the public’s knowledge).

And, yeah. Sam did want to forget it all happened, but… with Jess around—someone who understands—she found herself wanting to talk about her feelings.

It was something Sam’s therapist had been ecstatic to hear.

Oh, how’s Jess?

How’s it going with Jess?

Do you have any plans with Jess?

Not only did she have to deal with questions about Jess from her therapist, but she also had to deal with it with her mother too. Her mother used to pester Sam about boys—oh, how’s Chris? He’s single isn’t he? Oh, how about Mike? Tall and handsome, that boy—and then that night happened and it turned into: Are you taking your medications? Are you getting enough sleep? Have you finally ditched that god-awful whiskey?

Sam lied. She always did.

But now, her mother asks about Jess. It flusters Sam sometimes, makes her cheeks feel warm in a way they never did whenever her mother used to pester her about boys.

Sometimes she wished her mother would go back to asking about medications, sleep and whiskey…

Sam found herself stuck in Jess’ orbit like a moth to flame.

Once, one of Sam’s lectures ran relatively late. Her walk to her dorm conveniently passed by the field that Jess’ cheer team would practice at. Sam knew Jess had practice that day. It was 5:16 p.m., Sam was relatively tired, and she could feel the exhaustion weighing on her. Nevertheless, she found herself walking to the campus convenience store and grabbing a bottle of cold water. Her feet were leading her to the field before she even realized it.

She hesitated for a moment as she watched Jess do her routine. She was flying in the air. God, how does she even do that? Sam found herself fascinated, eyes tracking every moment. Sam knew fuck-all about cheerleading, but she knew that if she even tried any of these moves, her limbs would all be in the incorrect order.

Jess was… captivating, Sam found herself thinking.

Then, they started texting more often.

It was weird.

But good.

The last time Sam had a best friend… well.

And Sam wasn’t even sure if she was Jess’ best friend. Jess ran a tight circle. She was popular, for God’s sake. And Sam… was not.

But it wasn’t like Sam wanted to be. She’d considered joining the track team. She loves running—she’s fast too. But she thought that it would call attention to her in a way she didn’t want. Track meets… eyes on her… as she runs? No.

Then there was the Environment Club, of course, which was more of her vibe.

The club would meet up, talk about the environment, schedule events, and plan who does what. And, well, Sam just thought that planting trees and picking up garbage would be more fun than having people watch her run.

She’s considered it though. A lot. Maybe someday. When she feels less broken.

A few weeks later, Jess had casually suggested going hiking with Sam—maybe I could try it, she’d said, offhand, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like she wasn’t already setting up for the inevitable backtracking.

Sam could tell she was probably joking. But that didn’t stop her from thinking about it.

The idea of hiking with Jess sounded so fun, even though Sam could already hear the complaints. It’s too hot, Sam. My legs hurt. Are there bugs? Sam tried to play it cool, even made a joke, but in her head, she was already picturing it all.

So, of course, she made it special.

Jess—despite claiming she could “handle” dirt—wasn’t exactly in tune with nature. So, Sam wanted to make sure she had fun. Wanted to make it easier. Maybe help her get her mind off things.

And when they were there, standing in the middle of the woods, surrounded by trees and sunlight filtering through the leaves, Sam knew she had made the right call.

“Jess, come here,” she had said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. She gently pulled Jess down with her, both of them crouching over a patch of wildflowers.

Jess looked at them, then at Sam. Her eyes softened, something warm flashing across her face before she covered it up with a dramatic sigh. Sam noticed. She always noticed.

“Are we really stopping to look at flowers, nature girl?”

“Don’t act like these aren’t pretty,” Sam shot back, trying—and failing—not to think about how nice one would look tucked behind Jess’ ear. It would suit her, she thought. Something soft and delicate against all that sharp confidence.

But—the environment.

So Sam didn’t do it.

Instead, she flexed her fingers as they stood back up, shaking her hand slightly as if that would shake off the fact that she’d had the urge in the first place.

They continued. Sam made sure she wasn’t walking too fast, made sure she was close enough to Jess in case Jess tripped or something. Jess surprisingly didn’t complain the whole way through—though there were some grunts and mumbling sometimes. But Sam had a surprise in the end that she knew would make Jess happy—make it all worth it.

At one point, they stopped at a clearing near the edge of the trail. The view wasn’t as good as the final stop, but it was still nice—open sky, trees stretching endlessly below. But when Sam turned to Jess, she wasn’t even looking at the view. She had that faraway look on her face, like she was zoning out.

“Hey, trooper, you okay?” Sam teased, nudging her lightly.

Jess blinked, finally looked at her. And for a moment, she just… stared.

Sam felt it immediately—the sudden weight of Jess’ gaze, the way her blue eyes caught the light, turning bright and endless, like some kind of swimming pool she wouldn’t mind sinking into.

It was weird, the way it made her stomach flip. The way Jess’ eyebrows lifted slightly, like she was seeing something new. Like she was looking at her in a way she hadn’t before.

Sam sometimes hated being so introspective and… aware, because she was seeing this expression on Jess’ face… but she couldn’t believe it. There was no way that Jess was looking at her like… that, right? It made no sense. But she definitely was, and Sam didn’t know why.

“Jess?” she tried again, softly, even though she didn’t want Jess to stop looking at her like that.

Jess blinked again, flustered in a way Sam had never seen her before. “Sorry, I was just…” she trailed off, and Sam could see the gears in Jess’ head turning, scrambling for an excuse. (Her cheeks were also turning red, which was the one thing Sam decided to ignore). “Are we close to this so-called-cliff of yours?” Jess really likes deflecting, Sam realized. “Or did you make it up to get me to suffer through this hike?”

Despite the very obvious deflection, Sam let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head a little. It was more out of affection than anything.

Jess… she likes to push things down, run away from her feelings. Sam doesn’t like doing that, never had. Jess made her want to face her feelings. So, she did.

She journaled later that night until her hand started cramping up. She wrote about everything that happened, from when Jess showed up to her door to the end of their hike. She wrote about that hug they shared, how she’d felt her stomach fluttering in a way she’d never felt before. And how, after that hike, Jess had made Sam promise to call if she felt the urge to drink before bed.

And when did she not have that urge?

So, she called.

They called every night (still do).

Every time they called, Sam liked to picture it—Jess lying in bed, phone pressed against her ear, eyes tracing patterns into the dark ceiling. Saying things only Sam got to hear, her voice soft, impossibly intimate in the quiet of the night.

Sometimes, Sam could hear the smile in her words. Could feel it through the phone.

And in those moments, she could almost see it—the slight upturn of Jess’ pink lips, the way they might curve, lazy and amused. Maybe even a little shy. It was stupid. But Sam still imagined it anyway.

Obligatory calls stopped feeling obligatory after a while. They just were a part of the night. A part of her. Instead of reaching for whiskey before bed, Sam reached for her phone. Instead of numbing herself with alcohol, she let herself sink into the warmth of Jess’ voice—soft, familiar, something she’d come to crave more than the burn of liquor down her throat.

Sam remembered this one call. The one where she’d said something so stupid she had to physically mute herself and scream into her pillow.

“You do have a pretty face.”

What the fuck.

Why did she say that? Why did she say that?

Sam Giddings did not say things like that. And she definitely didn’t scream into her pillow like some love-struck teenager. If her mom had seen her, she’d never hear the end of it. She finally unmuted just in time to hear Jess’ voice come through the line—strained, like she wasn’t sure what to say.

“Um… thanks, you’re…” Jess trailed off. And Sam had snorted before she could stop herself, her embarrassment fading in an instant, because—God, look at them. “You’re pretty, too.”

That made Sam’s brain short circuit for a second.

And listen—Sam is rational. She’s a think-before-you-act, think-before-you-speak kind of person. But at this moment, she couldn’t, for the life of her, find the thinking part of her brain. It was gone. Completely wiped.

So, she did the only thing she could… deflect.

For the first time, Jess had managed to throw her off balance.

And she should’ve seen it coming. Of course it would be Jess. Jess, who had half the campus wrapped around her finger, falling to their knees at just a look. Jess, with her stupid magnetic smile and those deep, blue eyes—

Yeah. She was so fucked.

“Who’s that girl you’re always with?” Mark—a guy from her Environmental Club—had asked once, not even looking at Sam as he stapled a banner to the bulletin board, his voice casual—too casual.

Sam already knew who he meant, but still, she said, “Who?”

“The blonde? Braids?” He glanced at her then, green eyes bright with something that made Sam’s stomach twist. She didn’t know what she was feeling.

“Oh, uh.” She shifted her weight. “That’s Jess. She’s—”

Mark stopped what he was doing to look at her properly, head tilting slightly. Sam thought—stupidly—that he and Jess would probably look good together. He was handsome, tall, with soft brown curls, and he wasn’t an ass like Mike. That should be enough for her to root for him. (But she didn’t).

“She’s…?” he prompted, eyes stupidly expectant.

Sam cleared her throat. “She’s a friend. From high school.”

Mark had hummed, nodded, before his lips curled into something almost smug. “Oh, really?”

Sam didn’t like that.

“Is she…” He paused, just enough for her stomach to tighten.

Sam already knew it was coming.

“… is she single?”

The question shouldn't have bothered her. It shouldn’t have. But it did. It so did, no matter how much she tried to convince herself it didn’t. No matter how much she’d written about it in her journal, the side of her hand smudged with ink.

Sam forced a breath, face neutral, like it didn’t mean anything, like she hasn’t been stuck in this weird headspace for months now. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

Mark grinned. “Huh. Maybe I should ask her out.”

Sam’s jaw clenched before she could stop it. “Yeah,” she had said, voice a little too flat. “Maybe.”

He never did end up doing that.

Sam’s never been more glad.

Sam doesn’t like overthinking. She tries not to. She’d rather spill everything onto the pages of her journal, scrawl the mess out in ink, and then read it over a million times until it starts making sense. Until she can see her own thoughts clearly instead of just hearing them.

And if you could search a word in her journal like a document, Jess would probably be the top result.

Her journal has been an absolute mess ever since she figured out she had a—God… she can barely even admit it, not even in her own brain—ever since she figured out she has a crush on Jess. A crush. On the straightest girl on the planet.

Was God just cruel or something? The trauma, the mountain, wasn't enough? He had to make sure Sam’s gay awakening was her super absolutely straight best friend.

But….

But then—no matter how hard she tried not to—Sam always found herself thinking about that day. The hike. The way Jess had looked at her. Eyes deep and blue, like they could swallow her whole if she let them.

It was stupid. It was nothing. Probably.

Maybe Jess was just… incredibly, intensely, platonically in love with her or something. That was a thing, right? Jess was a passionate person. Maybe this was just how she was. Maybe Sam was reading too much into it.

And of course, as if Sam wasn’t already losing her mind, the universe kept throwing more moments at her. More lingering looks. More casual touches that didn’t feel casual at all. More little things Jess would say that stuck with her way longer than they should have. She found herself lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, replaying them over and over—like if she just analyzed them enough, picked them apart carefully, she’d find the answer she was looking for. Like if she looked between the lines long enough, she’d finally figure out if there was something there… or if she was just completely, hopelessly delusional.

And then there was that day.

The day Jess had asked if she was interested in any of the guys from Environmental Club, all casual, offhand, like it was the most normal thing in the world. And Sam—who had never really been offended by such a question before—had almost bristled.

Because, no. Absolutely not.

She’d thought about Mark, about how smug he’d looked when he said he was going to ask Jess out. Thought about the weird little grudge she’d been holding against him ever since. And then, in her flustered, defensive state, she’d let it slip.

Girls.

It had come out so fast, she almost hadn’t registered it. But Jess had. And Jess, who normally let things slide, had decided that today was the day she wouldn’t. She’d questioned it, tilted her head in that way she did when something didn’t quite make sense, brows furrowing, lips pursing slightly.

And Sam—who was usually good at keeping her cool—had felt her entire brain stutter.

Because, one, why had she said that?

And, two, why had she said it after Jess had called her cute? Yeah. Cute. Because apparently, Jess thought Sam’s whole thing with nature and sustainability was cute.

Which, fine, whatever. That was great. Except that Mark was also environmentally conscious. Mark was a guy. Mark, in theory, was the type of guy Jess should be into. And Jess had just called that cute. So, you know. A match made in heaven, right? For the next week, every time Sam caught a glimpse of curly hair in the distance, she found herself dragging Jess in the opposite direction. And Jess—who usually noticed everything—was too busy ranting about some minor inconvenience to even clock what was happening.

When Emily called out of the blue that night, chirping about some get-together she was planning, Sam had smiled… tight, polite… but her entire body tensed like she’d just heard a fire alarm go off inside her own head.

She didn’t… really talk to anyone anymore. Not consistently, anyway. Distance made it easy, and the unspoken agreement between most people who had lived through That Night seemed to be: let sleeping dogs lie. Nobody was rushing to rekindle ties with the Trauma Club, least of all Sam.

Except—well. Two weeks ago, she texted Ash. Tentatively. Just a hey, just checking in, just testing the waters. And now they were talking more. Not constantly, but enough. Enough that it had started to feel safe, maybe even warm. Especially since Sam had… started telling her things. About her situation. Her problem.

Her big sparkly: Jess problem.

Ash had seemed like the best person to confess to—years of swooning over Chris made her an expert in doomed crushes, even if that particular saga ended up with mutual hand-holding and soft morning-after smiles. Sam’s version was nothing like that. Jess wasn’t—Sam didn’t even think she liked her. Not like that. It wasn’t the same.

Which made Ash the ideal confidante. A responsive diary with feelings and good advice and appropriately scandalized reactions. Sam could pretend it wasn’t real if she only ever talked about it in texts. Could compartmentalize. Could breathe.

Until she had to see her in person. With Jess.

That, Sam thought, the moment she hung up the phone—was going to be a fucking disaster.

And it was. Of course it was.

The entire night, Sam had to pretend she hadn’t been talking to Ash on a semi-daily basis. Had to ignore the pointed glances Ash kept throwing her across the room like they didn’t share a digital archive of late-night emotional spirals and emoji-coded freakouts.

“Oh my God,” Ash said, practically skipping into Sam’s space during a lull in conversation. “At first I was like, what? You and Jess? But now that I see it in person—”

Sam nearly choked. “Ash,” she hissed, eyes darting around, her brows stitching together in panic.

“I’m sorry,” Ash said, in the least sorry tone possible, grinning so wide it was almost cruel. “It’s just—wow. I meant what I said, you know?”

Sam gave her a look. “What did you say?”

Ash tilted her head, visibly stalling. “Well, okay—I didn’t say the whole truth. Obviously.” She made a vague circling motion in the air like that would explain anything. “But don’t freak out, okay? I, um… talked to Jess.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “You what?”

“I was careful!” Ash rushed, hands up in surrender, giggling like this was a comedy and not the actual unraveling of Sam’s entire nervous system. “Really careful! But—you might be surprised at what I found out.”

Sam folded her arms, trying not to visibly hyperventilate. “What. Did. You. Say to her.”

Ash bit her lip. Paused. Definitely stalling.

“Ash,” Sam said, through gritted teeth, “just tell me.”

“I told you not to freak out—”

“I never agreed to that!”

Ash winced. “Okay, okay, fine. I just—ugh, I might’ve… maybe… lightly brought up your whole, um…” She gestured vaguely again. “…thing.”

Sam’s heart stuttered. “You talked to her about our… friendship?”

Ash smiled, far too pleased with herself. “If you want to call it that, yeah.”

Sam shut her eyes for a second and let out a breath so deep it made her chest ache. If there was one thing she could usually count on—something she prided herself on—it was her ability to keep it together. To look calm. Controlled. Neutral. Even when her entire body was practically vibrating with the urge to scream.

“God, okay… what did she say?” she finally asked, voice low, her gaze catching Ash’s too-wide eyes.

“That’s for you to find out.”

And Sam didn’t bring it up. That was the worst part. She didn’t initiate anything, didn’t lead the conversation there—Jess did.

“Did… Em and Ash talk to you about anything weird tonight?”

It had been a casual question. Almost. But Sam’s heart dropped like a stone the moment the words left Jess' mouth.

She turned to look at her, every muscle in her face pulling taut as she tried to hold steady. Neutral. Blank. Like she had no clue what Jess might be talking about, even though she absolutely did. She just didn’t know what, exactly, Em had said.

“Huh?” The word sounded foreign on her tongue, like someone else had said it. Her voice didn’t even feel like hers. She tilted her head to one side, manufactured confusion settling across her features like a mask. “Anything weird? Like what? That’s very ambiguous.”

It wasn’t ambiguous. It was the opposite. Her mouth tasted like metal.

“I know. Just—have they? Like, said something out of the ordinary to you?”

Sam kept dodging. It was becoming a habit. Not a conscious one, maybe, but it was happening more and more often. And yeah, maybe she didn’t always deflect. Except when her mom asked about Jess. Or when someone made a comment she wasn’t prepared for. Or when her thoughts drifted to places they weren’t supposed to. So, actually—okay. Fine. She did deflect. When it came to Jess, she was a world-class escape artist.

Because this wasn’t a crush. Not the way people normally talked about them. It wasn’t butterflies or daydreams or even hope, really. It was—magnitude. It had weight. Sam had liked people before, sure, but never like this. Never like Jess.

Which, honestly, tracked. Jess wasn’t just anyone. Mike literally dumped Emily to chase after her. People orbited around Jess like she was gravity. They watched her. Longed for her. Would’ve done anything to have her look their way.

And of course—of course—Jess brought up the café.

Sam’s dumb little slip-up. The one about girls. The one that had come tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop it, just because she couldn’t handle the idea of Mark from the Environmental Club making his move first. Because Sam wasn’t ready to imagine that.

But she didn’t get to stay safe.

It was out there now.

“I do.”

And then… silence. Not the kind she expected. Not the kind she prepared herself for, running this scenario over and over in her head like a disaster drill. No cold laugh. No disgust. No tender moment of clarity. Just—

“What?”

A shriek. Loud, unfiltered, so Jess that it had made Sam flinch.

Jess wore her emotions like a second skin. Always had. The problem was, for once, Sam couldn’t read her. Couldn’t even try. She looked… shocked. Eyebrows practically disappearing into her hairline, lips parted like she’d lost her next word mid-sentence. Then she closed her mouth. Opened it again. Didn’t speak.

Her cheeks turned pink.

Her eyebrows drew in.

She started to shake her head.

Sam’s eyes dropped, fast, to Jess’ hands—just in time to catch the way they were trembling before Jess noticed and curled them into fists.

And—wow. Okay. Believe it or not, this night had.. it had a good ending. Surprisingly. Against all odds. Sam still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Jess’ initial reaction—there had been too many emotions flashing across her face in rapid succession, too fast for Sam to track or decode. It was like trying to read a book with the pages flipping themselves. But the important part, the only part that mattered, was this: Jess hadn’t looked disgusted. She hadn’t bolted. She hadn’t rolled out of the car and straight into traffic just to escape the conversation. Which, honestly, was something Sam had mentally prepared for in the five seconds Jess had given her to prepare.

Instead, Jess had been… supportive. Shockingly so. And then, just to really ruin Sam’s entire emotional equilibrium, she gave a whole speech…

(“I was feeling so lost. So alone. Despite everything I had going on. Y’know: cheer, friends, parties. They were just distractions. Things to keep me from looking at what I didn’t want to see. But you…”

“You made me want to face it. You made me stronger. Made me believe in myself. That I can get better. That there’s… things in this world that—that are worth sticking around for.”)

It was something sincere and wide-eyed and so Jess that it left Sam’s stomach in knots and her chest melting like wax under a flame.

You’d think that would be the end of it.

A neat conclusion. Sam moves on. Her crush fizzles out like a candle finally burning itself down. Jess names her maid of honour someday, drops her kids off at Sam’s place on weekends so she and her husband can sneak away to Cancun or wherever for a little alone time. Sam babysits and pretends she’s not in love with someone else’s wife. You know—the usual.

She knew she was spiraling. Knew she was letting her thoughts veer way too far into the future. But it didn’t matter. Because the problem—the problem—was that Jess loved with her whole chest. That kind of reckless, all-consuming loyalty. And somewhere along the way, she had turned that focus onto the wrong platonic friend.

Which was Sam… of all people.

And yeah, we’ve been over this. Many times.

But lately… something had started to crack. Not in a big, dramatic way, but in the subtle, insidious way that makes your stomach hurt before your brain can catch up. Sam kept flipping back through her journal like it would hold the answer—like some past entry would be circled in red, underlined three times, with a little arrow pointing at the exact moment everything shifted.

But there were no clues. No riddles to solve. Just messy handwriting and soft confessions and stupid hope. Jess had been acting weird. Not outright strange, just… different. Tense. Off. And she had always insisted it wasn’t because Sam liked girls, but it was hard not to notice how perfectly everything seemed to line up right around that time. It felt too exact. Too timed.

But then Sam would think about the speech. The one Jess had delivered with too much feeling, too much sincerity, too much Jess-ness to be fake. Sam knew her. Knew how bad she was at lying—embarrassingly bad, really—and there’d been nothing disingenuous in her voice.

Which only made things more confusing.

Because if it wasn’t fake, then what the hell was it?

Chapter Text

Jess’ weird behavior fizzled out over the next couple of weeks like it never happened. Sam’s cautious, though. At the café, she’s half studying, half stealing glances at Jess, who looks perfectly fine now.

There was a stretch where they barely saw each other, but then Jess started planning study sessions again. Started planning hangouts. Everything’s normal. Maybe Sam was just overthinking. Maybe Jess really was busy with school, like she said. Maybe her absence had nothing to do with Sam liking girls.

A few weeks later, Sam’s on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes follow the cracks, her mind stuck on what happened that night, when she came out to Jess.

Her phone pings on the nightstand, and the sound makes her stomach jump. Nobody else texts her this late so she already knows who it is before she even picks it up.

Sam, come over? It’s an emergencyyyyyyy <3

Thirty minutes later, they’re sitting on Jess’ bed. Sam is cross-legged, facing her while Jess is on her knees, leaning in with a brush steady in her hand.

Sam stays still – or tries to, anyway – eyes flicking up for a second before darting away. Jess is too close. It makes Sam nervous.

“This was your emergency?”

Jess laughs under her breath – not even bothering to answer. The brush drags soft across Sam’s cheek, a light dusting of blush. Sam’s never been a big fan of makeup. She puts on concealer, water line liner, and mascara on a good day, at least, but Jess is in a doll-playing mood, and, of course, Sam would let her.

“Do I really have to come to this party with you?” Sam asks. Jess just hums, completely focused on her task, like she didn’t even hear her. Sam’s lips twitch upward anyway.

“‘Course you do. It’s basically your job now,” Jess says after a moment. So she did hear her. Sam almost laughs, feeling a rush of something warm in her chest, even if Jess is making her go. “I need my best friend with me. It’s always been like that.”

Sam smiles, eyes still closed, and she feels Jess pause. At this, she opens her eyes, and Jess is staring at her. Sam’s heart skips, and before Jess can say anything, she blurts, “Yeah, but Em actually liked parties. Your current best friend just wants to stay home for once.”

Jess pouts, and Sam’s eyes catch on the shape of it before she can look away.

“Yeah, but I’d hate to go alone. Come on, Sam.” Jess’ voice turns playful. “What if something happens?”

“What could possibly happen?” Sam counters. Jess' hand comes up, tilting Sam’s face gently.

There is a lot that can happen. She thinks of Wendigoes, a car crash, a house fire, and everything that can go wrong. Maybe all those things are partly why she’s coming even though she hates parties.

“Close your eyes,” Jess murmurs, breaking her thoughts.

Sam does. There’s a pause, and Sam can feel the hotness of Jess’ breath on her cheek. “So many things can happen at a party, Sam.”

“Like what?” Sam asks, even though she knows.

Jess is quiet for a second. “I’ll miss you.”

Oh.

She purses her lips, trying to school her expression, suppressing the real blush under the fake one Jess just brushed on. It always surprises her when Jess says things like that, things that show that she values Sam more than Sam thinks she does.

“You’ve been to, like, a thousand parties without me,” Sam says.

“Yeah, but it’s different now,” Jess insists, her thumb tracing lightly over Sam’s cheek. It’s so gentle that Sam almost wonders if she’s imagining it. “It’s too late for you to back out, so don’t even bother, okay?”

Whatever Jess says always goes.

And that’s how Sam ends up in a house she doesn’t even know. Lara’s, apparently. One of Jess’ teammates.

She brings the red solo cup to her lips and drinks. It’s just water, obviously — Sam can’t help but worry about who’s going to take Jess home (not in that way…). Someone has to get her back to the dorm, and it’s going to be Sam. Responsible, sober Sam.

Sam is hanging back, a wallflower as usual, watching Jess move through the crowd. Jess has friends everywhere, and Sam can’t help but notice how easy it is for her. She sips her water and wonders what she really has to offer, standing here.

Jess catches Sam’s eye and waves her over. For a second, Sam thinks about slipping out the door, but that would be ridiculous since she’s already made eye contact. So, she lets out a long breath, and heads over instead.

The house is packed. She has to wiggle her way through, accidentally bumping into two people pressed up against the wall making out. Her cheeks heat up at the sight. She tells herself it’s just because she hasn’t kissed anyone in forever — no other reason.

She finally sees Jess at the end of the crowd, in the middle of a circle of friends. Everyone’s loud, everyone’s drunk, and Jess looks so happy.

Right as she reaches her, Jess slings an arm around Sam’s shoulders, which is easy for her since she’s taller. Her grin is wide as she starts introducing Sam to everyone on the varsity cheer team, one by one.

Sam feels a little ridiculous, standing here. It’s like she’s some kind of celebrity; most of them have a reaction when Jess says her name, like they already know her, like Jess talks about her when she’s not around. It makes the tips of her fingers tingly, and she takes a sip from her water to ground herself.

“So, you’re the famous Sam?” A redhead (whose name Sam already forgot) leans in and murmurs to her after the introductions died down.

“The famous Sam?” Sam repeats, and chances a nervous glance at Jess, who’s too engrossed in a conversation with someone else to notice this exchange. She looks back at the redhead, swallows the lump in her throat. “Uh, I guess.” Sam hesitates, before adding, “uh, why does everyone seem so starstruck by me?”

The redhead chuckles, shakes her head. “Oh, nothing. Just that our beloved team captain literally hasn’t stopped talking about you ever since you two reconnected. Usually she’s so nonchalant about everything, and anyone — including hot guys. Now she’s just Sam, Sam, Sam.”

Sam stares at her.

“What are you telling her, Megan?” Jess’ voice suddenly cuts in through the noise and Sam almost jumps. She looks over at her, and sees her face unnaturally red. It’s the alcohol. Probably. But there’s a twitch in her right brow, a telltale sign that she’s nervous.

“Nothing! Just telling Sam here how nice it is to put a face to her name!” Megan says, smirking in a way that says otherwise. Then she starts dancing, slowly backing into the crowd.

It doesn’t take two seconds before Jess opens her mouth again. “What was she telling you?”

Sam wants to ask Jess why she’s so fixated on this, why there’s a bead of sweat falling down the side of her face and why she seems so nervous and jittery all of a sudden.

“Nothing,” Sam mutters. “Just that… she said you talk about me a lot.”

Jess gets even redder. Her lips part, and Sam waits for her voice to go all high and awkward, but before Jess can say anything, some guy slides in next to her, draping an arm over Jess' shoulders as if he belongs there. And he kind of looks like he belongs there.

He’s tall, and a football varsity jacket clings to his frame. So, they basically look like poster children for some kind of romantic comedy. He kind of resembles Mike.

“Hey, Jessica!” he says, grinning, not even glancing at Sam. She feels her stomach twist, but she tries to ignore it.

Jess shrugs him off, and Sam tries not to look too pleased about it.

“Chad,” Jess says, flat, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

His smile falters for a moment before he recovers, looking at Jess like he’s surprised she’s pushing him off. “What? Haven’t had a drink yet?”

“We could be the last people on earth, Chad, and I still wouldn’t waste my time with you,” she says, not even trying to sound nice. “I’m busy right now, so go somewhere else.”

Sam’s used to watching Jess reject people. Back in high school, Jess had admirers everywhere. Sometimes she’d play along, just for fun. But now? It’s like she doesn’t even want to waste her time with them.

The only person who ever really had Jess swooning was Mike Munroe… but that’s done with. Or maybe not. Sam wonders if he’s ever reached out. She’s seen his Facebook — he’s still at every party, always a new girl clinging to him. Not surprising. That boyish grin probably works on everyone except Sam.

Chad finally glances at Sam, eyebrows raised. “Oh, hey. You one of Jess' friends? You a cheerleader?”

Sam almost laughs. Her? A cheerleader? “Uh, no.”

Jess sighs. “Chad, seriously. Just go.”

He shrugs, throws Jess a wink. “Whatever. You know where to find me.” Then his gaze flicks back to Sam, something different in his eyes now. “That goes for you too.”

Sam, confused, watches as he disappears into the crowd. When she turns back, Jess is still watching him leave, brows furrowed.

“He really knows how to push my buttons,” Jess mutters, before meeting Sam’s eyes.

A beat. Then:

“Is that one of the things that usually happen at these parties?” Sam asks, lifting her cup to her lips just to have something to do.

“Unfortunately.” Jess rolls her eyes, then reaches forward and hooks their arms together. “But with you on my arm, I feel safer.”

“You know, if Chad ever actually punched me in the eye, I’d be useless, right? I’d probably go straight down.”

Jess laughs under her breath. “He’d have to go through me first.” She’s smiling at Sam, soft and fond.

It’s almost too much to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright. Too blue. Sam can’t stop staring — can’t stop thinking about how pretty she is. Jess’ arm is looped through hers, warmth bleeding through the leather.

“I really like this jacket on you,” Jess says suddenly, her other hand brushing over the sleeve. She hums. “Might have to steal it one day.”

The thought of Jess wearing her jacket makes her feel so many things. It’s a surprise she’s managed to respond with, “if you like it on me so much, why steal it?”

Jess’ brows lift like she’s surprised with her answer, and it’s then that Sam realizes how close they’re standing, and how it seems like they’re… flirting? But it can’t be. Jess is straight — that’s for sure… so Sam’s definitely imagining this weird tension she’s feeling in the air.

… right?

“Um…” Jess says eloquently, and Sam can see that she’s rendered speechless for some reason. Jess doesn’t get speechless so… what was up with that?

“Jess! There you are.” Megan pops up out of nowhere, already grabbing her arm, Sam trailing behind them. “Come on, we’re playing Truth or Dare in the kitchen.”

Just like that, the moment’s gone.

Nobody really knows who Sam is, so she’s barely picked. Jess, however, is the star of the show — unsurprisingly. Every other round, it’s her name. She keeps picking truth, and the questions stay simple. Until they don’t.

“Jess… who in this room would you kiss?”

Sam barely has time to process before Jess glances at her. Their eyes meet for a split second — so quick Sam almost convinces herself she imagined it. But it happened. She knows it happened. No amount of self-gaslighting could talk her out of it.

“Oh, uh…”

Again, Jess is speechless. It throws Sam off, because sure, she’s seen Jess at her worst (and at her best), but Jess almost never lets her guard slip in public. Jess is the loud one, the charismatic one — she doesn’t like people she barely knows being able to tell what she’s feeling. It isn’t like her to just… pause like this.

Sam glances around the room. Chad looks pathetically hopeful, and Jess' friends keep flicking their eyes between the two of them, clearly waiting for Jess to pick him. Meanwhile Jess just sits there, lips parted.

Then she clears her throat. “I’d probably, um… kiss…” She bites her lip. It’s a tell, something she always does when she’s nervous. So she is nervous. But why?

“It’s gonna be me,” Chad cuts in, smirking. His friends burst into premature cheers, which makes Sam want to roll her eyes for her.

Jess actually does. “No. I was going to say I’d probably kiss Sam.” She waves a hand toward Sam, casual, like the words are nothing.

The game moves on like Jess never said it. Sam spends the next few rounds staring at the floor, replaying the words in her head, trying to process. Jess hadn’t even explained herself — not that she got the chance. The circle had erupted, Chad insisting she was lying, everyone else demanding answers, and Jess had just ignored them all.

Just when Sam thinks she’s in the clear until the end of the game, someone says her name.

She looks up. One of Jess' cheer friends. Sam’s bad with names.

“So, Sam, are you gonna be brave and pick dare?” the girl asks, smirking.

Sam lets out a short laugh under her breath. No way. “Truth.”

Several people groan in exaggerated disappointment, which earns a round of laughter. Sam just clears her throat and tries to focus on the girl — the one who may or may not actually be nice to her.

“Would you kiss Jess back?”

A surprised laugh slips past Sam’s lips before she can stop it.

She’s already sick of this game. The last thing she wants is to spill her actual feelings in front of a circle of half-drunk strangers… but lying somehow feels worse.

Friends can kiss, can’t they? Especially girl friends.

But — Sam cuts herself off — she’s gay. Jess… isn’t. And Jess knows that she is. That makes it different. Doesn’t it?

Except Jess was the one who picked her in the first place.

God, when did her life spiral into problems like this? Problems so far from the life-threatening ones she had on that mountain, and yet somehow just as terrifying. She knows the answer should be obvious — of course the mountain was worse — but this feels life-threatening too. Like whatever she says next could completely upend everything.

No more sleepovers. No more movie nights. No more café study sessions with Jess.

What is Sam without Jess? She doesn’t even know where Jess ends and she begins.

There was a time when Sam didn’t have to worry about shit like this. Back when Jess was Emily’s best friend, Mike’s girlfriend. And Sam was Hannah’s best friend — Beth by extension — and she ate lunch with them, with Chris, Ash, and Josh. Those days felt easy.

Who would’ve thought that years later, the girl who used to sit across the cafeteria holding court with the popular kids would end up being her best friend?

They lived in different worlds then. In some ways, they still do.

Sam lives in petitions and protests, in speaking up for animals and the environment. Jess lives at the top of a pyramid, doing flips, enchanting the whole student body with just a smile.

But they also live in trauma, in fear, in the mountains, running for their lives. And sometimes one of those worlds overpowers the other. Being with each other makes it hurt less for both of them. What’s the science behind that, anyway? Trauma bonding?

“Sam?”

She’s yanked back into the circle, out of her head. A lump in her throat. She has to answer or it’ll be weird.

“Um, I would probably kiss back, yeah,” she blurts, quicker than she means to.

The group reacts loud and over the top again, but Sam’s eyes go straight to Jess. Jess is already looking at her. There’s a furrow in her brow. Then she blinks, looks away. She says nothing, and just clears her throat, a sound that can barely be heard over the music and people talking.

An hour later, Sam and Jess find themselves in the backyard alone. The music inside is slightly muffled, though it is still really loud. They’re sitting beside the bonfire, and Sam’s staring into it, yellow and orange hues highlighting her face.

Jess hums to the music and watches the sky. She smells like a mix of alcohol and her vanilla perfume. She has a drink clutched in her hand, and she’s tapping the rim with her red nails. The rhythmic tick is soothing.

The energy of the Truth or Dare game finally died down. Nobody has brought up the incident yet, but Sam feels a lump in her throat the more minutes pass. It’s like a time bomb waiting to go off.

But Jess seems relaxed. Sam looks at her, lets herself look at her. The fire makes her look softer. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, like she’s thinking about something. Sam wonders if they’re thinking about the same thing.

Then Jess meets her eyes, her gaze softening. “What?”

Sam smiles. “Nothing. Just… what are you thinking about?”

Jess clenches her jaw, then smiles back, but it’s tight. “Nothing important.”

Silence slips in between them. Jess starts chewing on her lip again.

“Jess,” Sam says quietly. “I know it’s important when you do that.”

“Do what?” Jess asks, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Sam picks up a loose leaf from the ground and tosses it at her. Jess giggles, the sound breaking the tension.

“Be serious.”

“Okay, fine. But I’m gonna need to drink a little more before I share.” Jess tips back her cup and downs the rest, determined. Sam watches, amused, as she turns it into a whole performance.

When she finally finishes, Jess grins. “How about we play a guessing game?”

Sam groans, and Jess laughs — the sound carrying straight into Sam’s chest, warming it. “How many games do we have to play tonight?”

“Just one last one, Sammy,” Jess says softly, and how can Sam say no to that?

“Fine,” she relents, fighting a smile. “You’re really drunk, by the way.”

Jess rolls her eyes, lips curling. She sits up straighter. “So, I’m thinking about something that happened tonight.”

Sam’s heart skips. It’s obvious, but Jess wants to dance around it — and for once, Sam does too. “Huh. Something that happened tonight? A lot of things happened.”

Jess just hums.

“Okay… is it about Chad?”

Head shake.

“When you did a keg stand?”

Another shake.

“Am I warmer?”

Shake.

Sam hesitates. “Is it… about the Truth or Dare game?”

Jess’ brow twitches, and she leans forward just a little. Bingo. She’s been thinking about the game. The only question is — which part? Sam’s pulse kicks up, and she knows she doesn’t want to dance around it anymore.

She’s always had this gut thing, even as a kid — like a warning bell that goes off before something happens. On the mountain it saved her more than once, made her sharper, told her when to duck, when to hide. And now it’s back, humming under her skin. Something is about to happen.

Sam just never knows whether it’s good or not…

Jess finally nods.

“Okay,” Sam breathes, her pulse skyrocketing. “Um… is it the, uh, question. That one question?”

Jess has the gall to look at her like she’s confused — like she doesn’t already know which one Sam means, as if Sam could possibly be talking about any other question.

“Are you really gonna make me spell it out, Jessica?”

Jess laughs like she always does when Sam full-names her.

Sam loves her. She really does. Jess makes her feel normal in a way no one else ever has. Jittery at her fingertips, skin buzzing, heart racing — but still normal. Like a college kid at a party, not a survivor.

With Jess, it feels like she could forget the mountain, forget all of it. Like she’s just meeting her for the first time tonight, drawn in because she’s cute. And Jess would lead her out to the backyard, and maybe let her kiss her. Like she meant what she said back in Truth or Dare.

“No, you don’t have to spell it out,” Jess says slowly, grinning now. She picks at the frayed edge of her chair, fingers trembling just enough for Sam to notice. “Um, yeah. I was thinking about the game,” she admits. “That one question, like you said.”

“And what about it?” Sam’s throat is dry, drier than before.

“I don’t know,” Jess says softly. Her nails worry at the fabric, tugging loose threads. “I just… hope it didn’t make anything weird. I picked you because… well, I trust you the most.”

“Yeah?” Sam murmurs, knowing her face is making a pathetic expression.

“Yeah, and, well… are we really gonna act like you aren’t a hotshot?” Jess says it like a joke, but her voice is too steady. Everything else she’s been saying tonight has been slow, slightly slurred. Not this.

Sam’s brows furrow, and she eyes Jess, tries to find her tells, but even drunk, Jess is suppressing them quite well. The only thing giving anything away is just her voice, something Sam shouldn’t even be noticing, but of course she does because she notices everything about Jess.

“Hotshot?” Sam repeats, bewildered. “Did I hear that right?”

Jess rolls her eyes. “I know you heard me.”

“No, really. I’m confused. I’ve never…” Sam looks into the distance, trying to process this. “I’ve never seen myself like that. You’re telling me you do?”

Jess breathes out a laugh, brows furrowing even as she smiles. “What? Yes, you are. You’d be blind not to see it.”

Before Sam can react, Jess reaches forward, catching the loose strands that frame her face. “You’re beautiful, Sam.”

Sam freezes, lips parted, no words. What the hell is happening right now?

Jess’ hand trails down until it cups her cheek. Her thumb moves across her skin like she’s holding something fragile. Blue eyes roam Sam’s face like she can’t decide where to land.

“You have your pretty hazel eyes,” Jess says softly. “Freckles you don’t even notice. Ridiculously long lashes.” She pauses, smiles to herself. “Don’t even get me started on…”

Her thumb shifts, brushing from Sam’s cheek to her bottom lip. She traces it lightly, and Sam swears her whole body sparks. Her brain keeps chanting — what is going on — as she stares at Jess’ unfocused blue eyes, pupils blown wide.

“On what?” Sam manages.

Jess’ eyes go up to meet hers. Like she’s waking from a trance. She pulls back fast, hand dropping, lips pursing. Sam can see the walls slam up in real time. Her cheeks flush red, and she buries her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is muffled.

Sam reaches forward, wraps a hand around her wrist, pulling gently until Jess’ face reappears. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Jess’ eyes are shining now, tears clinging at the corners.

“I don’t know. I-I’ve been so… God, I’m sorry, Sam…” Jess’ voice cracks, and then she’s sobbing.

Sam doesn’t think. She just stands and pulls her in. Jess rises too, arms wrapping tight, clutching the back of Sam’s shirt like she’ll fall without it. Her face presses into Sam’s shoulder, wet with tears, and Sam holds on.

“What is wrong with me?” Jess cries, and Sam pulls back, just enough to look at her face.

“Jess, nothing’s wrong with you,” she says softly, her hands coming up to cup her cheeks. She wipes her tears by swiping her thumb over them. Gentle, just like how Jess was earlier. “Why are you crying? Didn’t you have fun tonight? You had all your friends… I got to meet them. They all love you, I just know. Because I do, too.”

“Really?” Jess manages to ask between her soft sobs. “You love me?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Even when I’m just a mess?”

“We’re all a mess,” Sam murmurs. She leans forward, and their foreheads touch. She closes her eyes. “You helped me, Jess. I was drowning before you. You crying after a party isn’t gonna change that.”

Jess just sniffles quietly. At least she isn’t sobbing anymore.

After a moment, Sam tries again. “What’s got you crying, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Jess answers after a while.

Sam leans back, giving her a look. “You’ve been saying nothing all night, but nobody cries over nothing, especially not you.”

Jess steps back, wiping her face with the edge of her sleeves. She sighs exasperatedly, and then groans. “Oh, God. I look like a mess, don’t I?”

She’s deflecting, but Sam doesn’t have it in her to press, even if she really wants to know. It might upset her more to be questioned.

“No, you look perfect,” Sam decides on saying instead, fixing Jess’ hair and wiping the tears Jess missed. “Are you ready to go?”

Jess nods her head, and they go.

Twenty minutes later, after Jess says a million goodbyes, they’re in Sam’s car. Jess slumps in her seat, sighing, and Sam stifles a laugh as she flicks on the A/C and turns up the radio.

A pop song comes on. Jess scrunches her nose.

“No, change it.” Her voice is rough from crying.

“To what?”

“Classical.”

Sam breathes out a laugh as she switches the station. There’s nothing like blasting Mozart at 3 a.m. with your drunk best friend in the passenger seat. Jess has her eyes closed, smiling to herself, softly humming along.

“I like listening to what you listen to, you nerd,” Jess says.

“I don’t only listen to classical music, Jess.”

“Whatever you say, Professor Giddings.”

Sam starts the engine, rolling her eyes. “That doesn’t even make any sense. You have no punchline.”

Jess grins. “I just like imagining you as a professor. All serious and professional. You’d look cute as one.”

Sam’s cheeks burn. She doesn’t answer, just backs out of the spot and drives away.

She will never come to one of these parties again.

By the time Sam gets them to Jess’ dorm, Jess is barely upright. Slurring, one-word answers. Sam opens the door, peeks in — no roommate. What a relief.

She almost drops Jess dragging her to the bed. Jess flops down, out cold in seconds, soft snores spilling out. Sam smiles. Her arms are stretched over her head, her mascara smudged, and her - usually perfect – eyeliner is gone.

Sam sighs, gets up to find the makeup remover in Jess’ drawer, and comes back. She kneels at the bed, wipes gently over her eyes, down her cheeks.

“Sam?” Jess mumbles.

“Yeah?”

“Can you stay?” Jess doesn’t wait for an answer. She tugs, pulling Sam into bed with her.

Sam’s cheeks heat instantly. Jess is close, too close, arm wrapping around her, face pressed into her neck, breathing her in.

“Jess, I—I should go,” Sam whispers, trying to push her off, but Jess doesn’t budge.

“Stay,” she says, muffled against her skin. “Please?”

And whatever Jess says goes.