The Samsung guy
(Book poster)
At twenty-one, I wasn't searching for love.
I was finally starting to feel like I had my life in order — or at least, like I was getting there.
The kind of place where you breathe without overthinking it. Where you take selfies and don't hate what you see. Where food isn't a fight. Where your silence doesn't scare you anymore.
I had just started acne medication that was actually working.
I was eating what I liked again.
The scars on my body had begun to fade — not just the ones people could see.
And after years of living in a house where my head never felt like it belonged, I was preparing to sign the lease on a studio that would be mine.
I wasn't looking for anything.
Not a relationship. Not drama. Definitely not a boy two years younger than me who I only remembered because of a dumb Samsung-versus-iPhone argument on a train.
That night started with my sister.
She wanted to go to a party but couldn't go alone, so I came with her. I didn't want to be there. The music was loud and chaotic — not my kind of vibe. Most of the people were younger, sixteen to twenty maybe. I felt older, out of place. I stayed in the hallway for most of the night, watching the crowd pass me like static. Nothing stood out. Nothing pulled me in.
On the train ride home, he was there — sitting with his girlfriend, surrounded by a few of the same people from the party.
The conversation was loud and pointless, like most post-party train talks.
They were arguing about whether Samsung or iPhone was better.
His girlfriend voted iPhone.
He defended Samsung like it was a family member.
Some agreed with her. Some with him.
I agreed with her — not that anyone noticed.
Later, I asked my sister who he was. She told me his age — eighteen, almost nineteen.
Her age: sixteen.
Mine: twenty-one.
Just numbers. Irrelevant at the time.
Some weeks later, a rumor floated by — something about him cheating. I didn't care enough to ask. I just remembered him as "the Samsung guy" from then on. A random face from my sister's friend group. Quiet, with a girlfriend and an accent. That was all.
Until one afternoon, when I was picking my sister up for coffee.
We were seated, catching up, when she spotted some of her friends nearby and asked if we could join them.
He was there too.
We sat at the same table.
He was quiet, staring into his phone with his AirPods in.
I noticed the iPhone in his hand and, without thinking, leaned toward him.
"Now you like iPhone, huh?" I said casually. "I thought it was Samsung all the way?"
He looked up with the smallest smirk.
"What's Samsung? Never heard of it," he replied dryly, sarcastically — like the train argument had never happened.
We both laughed a little.
And that was it.
Nothing meaningful.
Just a one-liner. A shared joke. An inside reference to a moment he probably didn't even think I remembered.
I didn't feel anything. Not curiosity. Not attraction.
He wasn't my type physically, and he had a girlfriend.
He was just... quiet. Shy. There.
The Samsung guy. That's all.
And that's how it began.
No spark. No slow motion. No signs.
Just a sentence.
Just a phone.
Just a boy I barely noticed.
(Train ride back home)
(Café greetings)
