Serendipity (Book 1)

Practically Perfect by shannonann

Chapter 2

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Her apartment is not what he would picture her in. It's almost...artsy. There are lots of bookshelves lined with...get this...books. Books? In Sam Puckett's apartment? The walls are painted a bright yellow color and the kitchen cabinets are sky blue; she's even painted little white clouds on some of them. She clomps over to the refrigerator and pulls out two more beers, before moving to a lavender couch...where she found furniture that color, he may never know...and sits with a huge sigh.

Freddie doesn't follow. He walks around the living room, taking in who she is now. There are pictures, lots of pictures. Most of them are of her and her mom. They look so happy. He smiles because they were never happy in Seattle. There are lots of Sam with the pistol girl, Jen. They're best friends, he assumes. His heart hurts a little because he knows she's taken Carly's place. He recognizes Adam's face in a few photos of large groups, but there's none of just him and Sam. The knot in his stomach starts to loosen up.

"Freddieeeeee," he hears Sam squeak sleepily from the sofa behind him and turns to face her. "Come sit with me. Why are you walking around? Stop that."

He laughs and moves to join her on the couch. "My bad, princess."

She lets out a loud giggle at her old nickname. "I forgot!" She leans back against the cushion and closes her eyes. "We had so much fun, didn't we?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we did," he says as he takes one of the beers from her.

She turns her head toward him and opens her eyes. "How are you, Freddie?"

I'm good," he smirks, "how are you, Sam?"

"Nooo," she whines, "how are you Freddie? Are you happy?"

There it is: the question that he knew would come eventually. She's always been able to read him, no matter how hard he tried to prevent it. But still, part of him wants to lie. He wants to say that yes, of course he's happy, why wouldn't he be? Everything is fine and dandy...he's graduating, his degree will make him tons of money, no doubt...of course he's happy.

But a bigger part of him wants to tell the truth. Because if anyone will understand it's her; if anyone can make him feel better, it's her; if anyone deserves to be trusted with the truth, it's her. If he's going to open up to anyone, he wants it to be her. Just her.

"No."

The look on her face, it breaks his heart. It's a look of genuine pain. She's hurting for him. And he's hurting for both of them.

"Why not?" she inquires.

He doesn't know how to answer so he just shakes his head. He feels Sam's hand on his leg.

"I'm not sure," he answers finally. "I don't know."

She moves to get up, but stumbles and falls back to the couch. Freddie is surprised; he'd almost forgotten she was drunk. On her knees on the sofa cushion, she puts her hands on his face again, just as she had at the bar when she'd called him a "cutie pie."

"I wish that you were happy." Even through the beer-induced fog in her eyes, he could see that she was sincere.

"I'm happy right now." It's not a lie, which surprises him. Tonight, for the first time in a long time, he's happy. He's happy with her. He's happy here, away from everything that makes him unhappy. She's managed to make him forget it all.

His answer seems to please her because she grins and hugs him tight. "Oh, Fredderly. I just want you to be the happiest person. No one else is nice to me like you always were. I was more scared to leave you than I was anyone else. You're the best friend, Freddie, the best."