In Your Shoes

Chapter 9- Sam

Every house has a scent. You know, that one smell that will evoke certain memories of the inhabitants of the home, or maybe the mere area in itself. The Reynolds' house had always given off the scent of fresh ocean water and cherries, as strange as it sounds. That is the exact aroma that filled my lungs as I walked into the kitchen I had spent so much time in years prior. I was confused before looking at my reflection once more only to be reminded of the situation I had somehow thrown myself into. I didn't recall relocating to Matt's house, let alone anything that had happened following the party from the previous night.

The room illuminated with a familiar hue that I had become accustomed to years ago. A woman of her early twenties and a younger girl sat at a circular table. Must be Matt's sisters, I thought. The older one, presumably Khloe, smiled thoughtfully as I trudged in. "Feeling better?" Slowly, I lowered myself into a seat, attempting to ignore the subtle stinging around my eye.

"Yeah," I lied, though it wasn't my best lie ever, as I said it through gritted teeth. Two bowls filled with cereal sat before Sarah. Bigger appetite than I remember. Two familiar puppy-dog eyes remained planted on her face as she slid one of the bowls over to me.

"Here, I made you cereal . . . I'm sorry for yelling at you." She lowered her head. I stared at the bowl of cereal and grimaced internally, as I had never really been a cereal person.

"Uh, thanks, Sarah, but I think I'm—" a blaring doorbell ring interrupted me mid-sentence, leaving me to shoot up and mumble an I'll get it before heading to the front door in anticipation of Matt-in-my-body standing on the other side of it. Instead, when I opened the door, my eyes laid upon the one person I didn't expect to be at the foot of Matthew Reynolds' doorstep: Emily. She held a look of repentance yet a slightly cold demeanor, and if I hadn't been best friends with her at the time, I would probably have thought that she actually wanted to be there out of sheer regret. But, having known her very well, it was obvious that she had not come willingly.

"Um—"

"Don't say anything. I just . . . I wanna make this quick. I'm sorry for last night. I was so angry and shocked that I didn't care about the consequences and I wasn't—"

"It's okay." She stopped and arched her eyebrows.

"What?"

"It's okay. I forgive you." A few seconds had passed as Emily was evidently at a loss for words out of dubiety.

"Really?" Her voice dropped.

"Uh . . . Yeah?" I said in uncertainty as she proceeded to thrust her head to the side and scoff.

"Is this some sort of joke?" I merely stared for a number of seconds before she laughed. "Of course it is. Some kind of . . . reverse psychology? You're getting back at me by . . . by doing nothing! You're trying to make me go crazy or something, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not." Yet another awkward silence passed, Emily staring at me in confusion. I sighed and lowered my head before speaking again. "After last night, I guess I had some sort of . . . epiphany. What you did . . . I had it coming."

"You really did."

"What I mean is . . . you shouldn't be apologizing to me." Emily stared at me in disbelief, and I was soon after interrupted by the clearing of someone's throat. My eyebrows furrowed and Emily jerked to the side to reveal me; well, my body — Matt. He held an evident smirk.