Colliding with a famous rock band vocalist was an accident, but dating him was a choice.
Samantha Morris felt at a crossroads after graduating from university. The expectations from her family and the promises she gave to her ex-boyfriend, Tom, fel...
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Sam spent most of her day in the kitchen, making ribs with mashed potatoes and salads. Tom was visiting, and she decided it would be best if they have their conversation not in public. Sam knew Tom would feel offended, and sometimes his temper got out of control.
The previous day she spent with Molly, they went to yoga and had lunch afterward. Considering Molly will depart from Los Angeles soon, the girls tried to spend as much time as they could. Since Mason got back from Vancouver and Tom was spending the night at Sam's apartment. Samantha felt calmer when Molly went back home. Molly planned to move in a week, so they had a little time left. But first Sam needed to end things with Tom.
The doorbell rang, and Sam went to open the door. She didn't dress up for this dinner, Sam felt no need to do that. Tom has seen her in every condition possible. She remained in her house clothes: plaid shorts and a Metallica t-shirt, her hair held in a messy bun, and her face stayed bare.
"Hi there," Tom said as she cracked the entrance. A full smile beautified his face, revealing his dimples.
"Hi, come in," she said, opening the door wider.
"These are for you," Tom said and gave her a gigantic bouquet of wrapped red roses.
Sam never dared to tell him she didn't like cut flowers. He brought them often while they dated, she felt delighted about his efforts and didn't say to him it was unnecessary.
"Thank you." Sam sniffed the flowers. "Take off your shoes and put your bag somewhere." She waved her hand toward the living room.
Tom looked great, he always did. His black hair was cut shorter than it used to be. He gained some muscles, she could see them through his tight white shirt. His black jeans were giving him even longer legs than they actually were and forming his butt nicely. He took off his Converse sneakers and settled his bag next to them. Tom came to the kitchen area and sat on the stool as Sam took care of the flowers.
"So, how have you been?" he asked, looking around the apartment.
"Good, and you?" Why is it so awkward this time?
"Fine, I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck.
"You're a bit early, so food is not ready yet," Sam said and motioned to the stove.
"I'm not here for the food, babe," he said and peered at Sam. Tom's eyesight traveled toward the stereo system. "Maybe some music?" he asked and went into the living room. Sam sipped the water, her throat felt drained from the nerves, possibly. "I found this great band, I think you will like them," Tom said, plugging his phone into the stereo system.
The melody filled the apartment, and then Sam heard Ray's voice coming out from the speakers. She choked on the water mid-gulp, and liquid leftovers poured out of her mouth on the kitchen counters.
"Are you okay?" Tom rushed toward her, placing his palm between her shoulder blades, slightly tapping it.
"Yeah—the wrong pipe—I know this band," she replied, trying to revive herself after that choke.
