For Sam

“He asked me to marry him!” Samantha screams through my cell phone speakers.

My. World. Stops.

I’m not sure if it’s because Sam is my oldest and longest friend or if there is some other reason I freeze. I want to be excited by her news, but I’m not.

“Congrats. That is so exciting. I’m happy for you, Sam.”

Fuck did I lie to Sam? Now I know something is wrong with me. This is Sam we’re talking about. Samantha Laplow, with her long brown hair and soft blue eyes. She would make any man happy. But that man will, unfortunately, never be me.

“Robbie, are you okay? You haven’t said anything for a few minutes. Were you even listening to me?”

Fuck again! She said something, and now it’s a pop quiz. I don’t have a cheat sheet for this test. I’ll admit I have a slight crush on Sam. But who wouldn’t? She’s hot as fuck. And I’d be blind not to notice. But a crush isn’t a reason to stop a wedding. Speak now or forever hold my peace.

Silence, I choose you. It’s too late. I’m too late. I haven’t even met her groom-to-be. Sam went away for a whole semester in the spring. She went to England. During the semester, she met some guy who I nicknamed ‘Mr. Darcy.’ Even though I haven’t met him, I know he’s Mr. British accent.

It’s not like Sam, and I haven’t tried each other on before. In our senior year of high school, I took her to prom. I thought since I didn’t have a date and she didn’t either. So we could go as friends. But then I saw her. Her hair was perfect that night. She wore the most beautiful blue gown. And we turned to each other.

We crossed all friendship lines that night. She and I kissed. That’s when I fell for Sam. I fell hard. We ended up having sex after prom, as all dates do. I won’t deny we were fire together. But reality kicked in, and we became friends again overnight. Ever since then, I’ve questioned whether that night meant anything to Sam.

It meant something to me. But, of course, we’ve never talked about that night either. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Here we are three years later. We’re 21, and it still doesn’t mean a damn thing.

My parents have attempted to set me up on blind dates. They don’t get it... I want Sam. I’m not in love with her; I don’t think. I just like knowing she’s available. But now she isn’t, and I will die a lonely old man. We always had each other. Mr. Darcy is now replacing me.

“Robbie! Robbie? Are you there?” Sam asks.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Great, now I’m lying again.

“Look outside your window.”

I hear a car horn beeping from the driveway. I look out my window and see Sam waving at me. My heart feels a significant weight on it. I go to the fridge and get an energy drink to energize whatever is going on inside me. I’m a man; we don’t talk about our feelings...let alone have them.

I head out to the driveway. Sam is by herself. I am spared meeting Mr. Darcy. Sam gets out and places her sunglasses on top of her head. I see her blue eyes and know my feelings are a little more than a crush.

It’s summer, and Sam always wears strapless shirts in summer. I feel my temperature rise. Fuck, this shit. I retreat into the house. I don’t want to act like a fool today. I don’t have it in me to be foolish in front of Sam.

“Where are you going, Robbie Garvie? I just got here. I have to tell you everything.”

Sam shows off her expensive gold diamond ring. She takes it off and hands it to me. It says, ‘Our Love Will Never Fail’ inside. How can she marry a man she just met? I want to barf now...

“I’m hungry,” I reply.

“Why aren’t you happy for me? I’m engaged, Robbie! Me, Samantha Laplow. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I am. It’s just...” Fuck don’t do this now, idiot!

“What, you’re just what? Scared for me?”

“No, I think you’re rushing into this, don’t you?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why did God curse men with lips? She doesn’t want the truth; she wants me to tell her what’s she thinking. She wants to hear it repeated back to her in my male voice.

I look at Sam’s lips. I want them on mine one more time before she ties the knot. I know that will never happen. Love is a game of cards, and I have been given my hand. Only my hand is empty and losing, and it’s not holding hers.

Ugh, what the fuck are these feelings? No, it’s just a crush, and it’s not ruining her day. My feelings for Sam will go away. Yeah, like they have for the past three years.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Fuck...don’t do this, Robbie. Sam doesn’t need this conversation now.So what the hell am I doing?

I will be a good boy and keep my hands, thoughts, and feelings to myself.I don’t like Sam. I don’t like Sam.

I close my eyes and push my feelings back. I feel flustered. Sam’s presence sets me on edge. I hear her breathe, and then she speaks.

“What did you say?” Sam asks.

“Nothing. Congratulations.”

I look down at Sam. She’s a little thing, delicate and perfect. I’m a foot taller than her. I’m a gentle giant compared to most. I’m six-foot, three-inches tall.

I stare at her lips as they speak to me. I know she’s telling me her engagement story. But I don’t want to hear it.

“Robbie, are you listening?” Sam asks again.

“Yeah, you’re marrying Mr. Darcy.”

“Stop calling him that,” Sam punches my arm. I pull her hand away. It’s smooth to the touch. Is it possible for a moment like this to last forever?

“Not going to happen. He’s Mr. Darcy,” I insist.

She follows me inside the house. I watch as Sam takes off her shoes and sits on the couch.

Damn, the inner fire I can’t shake off is flaring up again. I get a cup of coffee. I need something to distract my feelings for Sam.

I don’t like Sam. I don’t like Sam.

“Robbie, you’re acting funny today. Did I do something? You’ve been drinking a lot of liquids since I got here.”

I’m nervous! But I can’t tell her that. She’s just pulled a carpet from underneath me.

I don’t like Sam. I can’t like Sam.

She comes over to me with her arms, ready to hug me.

I don’t like Sam. I can’t like Sam.

“Robbie, for crying out loud, come sit with me. It would help if you calmed down. I’ve known you long enough to know something is bothering you.”

“Nope, I’m good, Sam. Are we done here?” I ask, trying to shoo Sam outside. If she’s gone, my truth hides with me.

“Why do you hate me? Are you mad I went to England without you?”

“Yeah, sure, that’s why. Bye, Sam...have a nice life with Mr. Darcy.”

I hear the anger in my voice. It’s not that I want to be angry or jealous. I hate being replaced by a man I haven’t met yet.

Sam sits down on the couch. This is her universal sign that she isn’t leaving.

“You’re upset. And I want to know why. And stop calling him Mr. Darcy.”

“Of course, he’s Mr. Darcy. He’s British and perfect.”

“If he’s Mr. Darcy, then who am I?” Sam asks as she bats her eyelashes at me. It drives me crazy, seeing those butterfly wings open and close on her baby blues.

I blush instantly. I’m not sure if she can tell that I’m blushing against my tan Polynesian skin.

My dad grew up in Hawaii. He’s Samoan. He met my mother at a university in Honolulu. We’ll go to Hawaii to visit my grandparents from time to time. Sam’s never been to Hawaii, but now that she has Mr. Darcy, she’s inheriting England. So taking Sam to Hawaii would be pointless.

“You’re...a dork,” I reply.

“That’s not what you said outside.”

“What?” I ask, pretending I forgot already.

“Come on, Robbie. You told me I’m beautiful.”

This conversation is not happening. It can’t. She’s engaged, and I’m an ostrich in the mud.

“No, I didn’t.”

I look away from Sam. My entire face is blushing. Crushes suck. Why am I not over her already? We kissed years ago.

“Yes, you did. Thanks for the compliment,” Sam whispers.

After a few minutes, the red in my face disappears, and I look at Sam again. Then, finally, I turn to face her.

I don’t like Sam. I can’t like Sam.

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you mean it?” Sam asks.

“Mean what?” I ask, annoyed that we are still having this conversation.

“Do you think I’m beautiful?” Sam flirts again. I hate it when she flirts with me. It makes me want her more than I do now.

“Of course, I do. Who wouldn’t just look at you, Sam?” I place my hand on her cheek. God, what the hell am I doing?

I look at Sam, and she looks at me. The elephant in the room tiptoes slowly behind me. Now I’m full-on blushing, and my tan skin can’t hide the fact that I have a crush on Samantha Laplow.

Sam notices me staring at her lips. And she’s staring at mine. I move closer to Sam and watch as she closes her eyes. But I can’t let us kiss, because if I do...Samantha Laplow will hate me forever. She’ll hate that her best friend destroyed her chances with Mr. Darcy. So instead, I chicken out and kiss her forehead in disappointment.