Only One Bed

When we’d moved to New Jersey to train with the winningest coaches in the world, I’d left my best friend because we needed to take it to the next level now or never. But was this all even worth it? Bree was hurt, and I missed Sam, and we worked so hard every day.

Taking another loop around a block of houses, I ordered myself to stop thinking about Sam. Most people went away for university and didn’t live in the same place as their best friends anymore. That was normal. I shouldn’t miss him so much. I shouldn’t think about him so much.

I shouldn’t… Lots of things. There were lots of things I shouldn’t do when it came to Sam.

I took the stairs back up, breathing a bit heavier as I reached the tenth floor. Bree still sat on the couch, the apartment totally dark again. As I took off my shoes, she asked, “Did you talk to Sam?”

“He’s the one who told me the news. Chloe and Phillipe are there in Calgary. He missed the start of the men so he could tell me first.”

Bree chuckled, and I asked, “What?” as I gulped a glass of water and flopped onto the other side of the couch.

“Our Olympic dream is probably over, but you can still get that look on your face.”

I huffed. I knew—I wasn’t that clueless—but still demanded, “What look?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you’re unaware? Let me explain.”

Groaning, I shook my head. It was always a mistake not to ignore Bree’s teasing. Always. At least she seemed to be feeling better after the broth.

“Whenever Sam comes up, you get the goofiest, softest expression. Your eyes go distant, like you’re imagining his pretty face, and there’s a tiny smile on your lips. It’s a Sam smile. I never see it for anyone else.”

“That’s not true,” I muttered. “You can barely see me.” We were in the dark, after all.

“I see you.” She sat sideways and poked my thigh with her toe. “Also, I could be blindfolded and know you were making a Sam smile.” She dropped the teasing voice. “Honestly, those are your only real smiles lately.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “That’s not true.” Yeah, it had been tense and stressful this season after Bree’s concussion. If I’d been quicker, it wouldn’t have happened at all. I flashed her a performance smile. “See?” I said through my teeth.

She rolled her eyes. We sat in silence for a bit before she asked, “Are you ever going to tell him?”

I jerked, staring at her. “Tell him what?”

“Do you really want me to spell it out? I will, but—”

“No!” I held up a hand. I wasn’t clueless about how I felt, but that didn’t mean I spoke it out loud. “And are you kidding? No way. Never. Forget it.”

“Wow. You’re practically admitting it.” She sounded genuinely shocked and leaned closer, squeezing my forearm. Even in the faint glow of streetlights, I could see how serious she was. “You’re in love with him. Aren’t you?”

Wait. No. How did we get here? After years of teasing, we were actually talking about this for real? I must have been raw from the big news of the day. My usual defenses faltered. I never talked about it. Never.

But Bree was staring at me with so much love and compassion and like she was begging me to be honest with her. Her defenses had to be low too considering how sick she’d been for months now.

In that moment, after laughing it off for so long, I had to be honest with Bree. She deserved it. Holding my breath, I nodded.

She gripped my arm. “So tell him.” When I shook my head, she asked, “Why not? It’s like a cloud hanging over you.”

“Because he’s my best friend! My straight best friend.” Tabarnak! This was bizarre to talk about out loud. When I woke up in the morning, I hadn’t thought this day would end with Chloe and Phillipe returning to competition and me confessing my secret love for my best friend.

“I dunno about that.”

My heart pounded like I was running again. “What? Sam’s straight.”

“Before we left Vancouver, I thought he was getting into you. Something about the way he looked at you changed.”

“No way.” My throat went dry. “Sam’s not into me! He only hooks up with girls.”

“In high school. But he’s in university now. It’s been two years since we moved. How do you know for sure he hasn’t been experimenting?”

The idea of Sam with other guys had me leaping to my feet and pacing on the cheap IKEA polka-dot rug. It had never occurred to me. I hated it. I hated it so much I thought I might puke or shout or run outside in my bare feet.

Bree whistled softly. “Guess you’re the jealous type after all.”

“I’m not jealous! And Sam’s not fucking other guys! Or any guys. And he wouldn’t want to fuck me.”