"You really seem glad to see her," Harry observed, taking a delicate sip out if his own whiskey.
"I missed her a lot, really." Sam placed his empty glass on a passing tray and focused on the dancing kids.
After seeing Lisa again and being there with Harry, he could almost pretend like nothing had changed, that they were still in high school, attending their own dance.
"Do you think Christine will be okay with you seeing her again after last time?"
Sam shrugged because he really didn't give a rat's ass about Christine's opinion on Lisa. Not anymore. There was absolutely no reason for her to be insecure. Him on the other hand... And the weight inside his stomach was back, stronger than ever.
"Speaking of the she devil, where is she?"
Sam opened his mouth to tell him to be nice, but didn't see the point. He was too used to Christine and Harry constantly jabbing each other.
"Let me guess," Harry pressed on, totally not getting that he didn't want to talk about Christine. "You screwed her and ruined her makeup, and she had to stay behind and reapply it."
"Smooth, you dick," Sam mumbled. The comment however made him feel even crappier because it was not something he'd do. Or ever done for that matter. Could that be part of the problem?
"Sam? You okay?" Harry's tone had changed dramatically as his annoying social macho persona left way to Sam's true friend. "Did I hit a nerve or something?"
Yes, he had. A bigger one than he could possibly imagine. And he had to let it out because it was killing him.
"I don't screw Christine, Harry." Over or otherwise.
"Don't get pedantic on me. I know-- " He stopped which made Sam not feel instantly sorry for telling him that. "You mean, like not at all?" The shock in his voice was justified since who the hell lives with their girlfriend for almost two years without getting it on? "Why?"
Sam took in a deep breath because this was a matter he preferred to think about as little as possible since it still enraged him. "Just don't laugh."
Which was the reason why he'd never told any of his brothers either. He didn't want them judging Christine or him and making not so subtle jabs about it. But Harry was more neutral since he didn't spend so much time with them and barely saw Christine.
"When Christine started spending nights over, her father paid me a visit," he started, trying to keep his voice even. "He mentioned how Christine had made a promise to her dead mother that she wouldn't be with anyone until her wedding day and that it was up to me to help her keep that promise. Not bring it up to avoid embarrassing her. Just sort of let her have this if I truly cared for her."
God, it sounded so stupid. But the truth was, Christine never gave him a real sign that she was past that promise. There were subtle things that hinted she would let him go all the way, but those were hormones and he liked to kid himself that he could overcome them. That he could power through and not be part of why Christine chose to break her promise. It was one of the reasons it was easy to deny any possible cheating. Unless...
He turned to Harry who was biting down on his fist. "Are you laughing?"
He shook his head, his knuckles still in his mouth. "This isn't funny, Sam. It's the least funny thing ever. The professor is such a dick."
"You think he lied to me?"
"I don't know, but things change. Any promise a pre-teen Christine might have made could go down the drain with ease once she entered puberty." Harry lowered his hands, and Sam noticed they were shaking. "It was such a low blow. Did you even talk to her about it?"
"No. But I've been wanting to bring it up for a while because I'm not as good at controlling myself as I thought."
"So she never asked you why you've never...?"
Sam shook his head, the pain in his chest growing in intensity. Harry obviously saw beyond the bullshit with ease. What if everyone except him did? What if his attempts at being noble were just him being a total idiot and playing into the professor's game? What if Christine was really cheating on him for that particular reason?
"Sam? You okay? You've just gone very pale," Harry said, his voice low and comforting.
Sam shook his head again, grateful for this Harry, the one outside his social image, the one who knew how to be a true friend. "I..." He wasn't sure if he should be saying this, but it was driving him insane. "I think Christine might be cheating on me."
"What?" Harry's shock was well placed. Sam couldn't believe those words had left his mouth either. "Are you serious?"
"Yes. And if you're right, it might explain it."
"No." Harry shook his head vigorously. "No, no, no. If that was the problem, she should've told you!"
Sam agreed, but all he could do was shrug in misery. Now that the words were out, so was the pain, the doubt, the feeling of betrayal. Maybe it's not true. It was only a supposition anyway. Maybe he was just insane.
It would've helped to hear those things from Harry, but he just stood quiet, his face scrunched up in disgust.
"You're really hurting," he finally whispered. "Even if it's just a hunch."
"I just..." He felt like such an idiot. "I've worked so hard for this relationship, learned to focus on the good and just sail through the bad because..."
"You love her," Harry said, finality in his tone.
Sam nodded, doing his best not to start weeping like a pansy.
"She's not just a trophy girlfriend, is she?"
Sam let out a bitter laugh. "You know I'm never in it for the trophies."
"True," Harry muttered. "You always gave them to me."
It was true. Sam loved winning, but he never cared for the material proof. Ever since they'd started school, if he ever won something, he gave the medal or trophy to Harry. He just liked knowing he'd done well. It was enough for him while Harry liked to play with the actual trinket. Making his friend happy had always meant the world to Sam.
"Maybe I'm just stupid," he finally said. "I mean I don't have real proof. Just a nagging suspicion which could totally be me acting up."
"Don't," Harry said unexpectedly. "Don't smother your instincts."
Sam's eyes widened as he turned to his best friend. "Do you know something?"
Harry was looking into the floor, biting down hard on his lower lip. "I just... It's... Screw it, I can't do this to you. You're right to suspect Christine. She is cheating."
Sam's brain froze as his blood began to boil, but the confusion kept everything at bay as he tried to rationalize the words coming out of Harry's mouth and make them mean something.
The doubt was torture. The confirmation was hell.
"How do you even know that?" Sam whispered.
Harry threw a fleeting look around as if to make sure no one would hear him. "Because she's cheating on you with me."
There were more words. Harry continued talking, mentioning something about how in his senior year Christine dumped him right before she got together with Sam, about how he never got over it. Maybe he even mentioned the word love a couple of times. Sam couldn't follow.
The moment the meaning of his words sank in, everything went black. It was cold and it was painful and all he wanted was to drop through the ground and stop in the middle of the Earth. Living in the planet's core had to be less painful than this.
Then the black was replaced by red as rage took over like a tidalwave of mercy. The pain was replaced with the desire to punch Harry's face in, and he saw no reason to deny himself that little treat.
His elbow shot back and his fist slammed straight into Harry's nose. A satisfying crunch filled the air before people started yelling. Harry fell off his feet, his hands over his bloody nose.
"You piece of shit," Sam growled. "I thought you were my friend. My best friend."
"Sam, come on, listen."
Oh no. He was done listening. Because Harry hadn't plunged the dagger into his back by himself. He'd had help. Very potent help. His eyes swept the crowd, but she wasn't there. As if she knew what would happen, she'd avoided the scene. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
His body seemed to be on autopilot as he exited the school building out into the rain, got into his car and drove home. His mind on the other hand kept throwing random words at him. I never got over her. It happened by accident one time when you had to leave during a college dance. I didn't think you cared that much about her.
He scoffed at every argument, at every word Harry had managed to produce in record time to try and save his life. It didn't work. It didn't justify anything.
You have to understand, it's hard to resist her.
He didn't have to understand shit. All he had to do was sort this out once and for all. Before he knew it, he was out of the car, into the elevator, in front of the door, unlocking it.
"Christine!" he yelled the moment the door banged against the wall. "Christine, where are you?"
He rushed towards the bedroom, jumping the step that led there on the way. Everything was dark and quiet. He'd missed her. But he knew exactly where she would be. So back into the car, back to school in what felt like second, his mind buzzing with the need to face her, to make her confess everything.
He stomped inside the school and made his way among empty lockers, down dark corridors. He stopped at a corner because he could hear voices. There she was, dressed in her beautiful black velvet gown and her silver stilettos, her hair curled and falling over her shoulders in chocolate waves. Yet, she'd never looked less beautiful next to the one who'd brought proof of her downfall.
"I have to tell him, Christine, I can't keep doing this to him," Harry wailed.
"You shut your mouth," she said between her teeth. "You're not telling him anything. What the hell happened to you anyway? Hit on the wrong girl again?"
Sam turned the corner. There they were, facing each other, none of them smart enough to look around and see he was standing right there. Christine had raised her hand to touch Harry's nose, but he swatted it away.
"I mean it. And if you're not brave enough to do it with me, then I'm--"
Christine cupped his face with one hand and squeezed his cheeks until he could no longer produce intelligible speech. "You listen to me. You're not telling Sam anything. I'm not going to lose him just because you decided to be a pussy for five minutes. Own up to what you're doing and be a man."
Harry pulled out of her grip. "That's exactly what I'm planning to do. You have to decide, Christine. You can't have both of us."
"Have both of you?" She let out a laugh. "It's not a matter of choice, Harry darling, because there is no way I would chose you over Sam. You are convenient, but I could do without you."
The pain on Harry's face would've tugged on Sam's heart if the two people standing before him hadn't broken it into pieces. But he straightened his shoulders and pushed his chest out. "You're acting all high and mighty now, but whenever he leaves, you're more than happy to have me warming your bed so you don't feel like an abandoned kitten."
The look on Christine's face could kill a man. "That's all you're good for anyway, you slut."
"I'm telling him. He already suspects something anyway."
"The only reason he suspects something is because you're a sloppy idiot, not getting out of there when you should and leaving your damn shirts in his closet."
The color drained from Harry's face and he took one step back. Christine's expression morphed instantly into a playful smile as she put her finger under his chin. Just like she'd done to Sam that evening before he'd left.
"If you tell him," she said, her voice low and breathy, "I'll just deny it. I'll tell him the truth about how we used to go out, how I dumped you and you never got over me. How you've been secretly jealous of him ever since and now all you're trying to do is break us apart in a desperate attempt to have me. Who do you think he'll believe? You or me?"
"You're despicable," Harry breathed, the idiot enthralled by her game, by her smile and the way she came closer to him with each poisonous word.
"And then, not only will you lose his friendship," she continued, "but you'll never lay a hand on me again. Is that really worth losing over your guilty conscious?"
Harry was a moron. In that moment, he probably forgot he'd already told Sam the truth, that Sam had broken his nose and stormed out only to return. He maybe thought he was safe, that he could avoid the tragedy. Sam saw no other reason for him to accept Christine's kiss, to wrap his arms around her and kiss her back.
Something seemed to break inside Sam's head. With a low clang, everything turned black and white, tainted with a red that spoke of murder. He couldn't focus, couldn't hear the little voice screaming inside his head to leave it, walk away and cut them off because that was the normal, reasonable thing to do.
No, all reason was drowned by the sound of Christine's voice showing how stupid she thought he was. By the image of his best friend and his girlfriend kissing right before him, their arms tight around each other, low moans escaping them as if they were one second away from ripping their clothes off and doing it right there on the tiled floor.
This was over.
In a moment, he was upon them, his hands slipping between them, pushing them apart. He registered the shock in Harry's eyes before his fist smashed into his former friend's jaw with enough force to knock him out. Sam knew what he was doing. He didn't want Harry getting up again.
And Christine. Oh, Christine.
"Sam, it's not what it--"
He grasped her shoulder and pushed her back until her back hit the lockers. She winced and looked at him with wide, terrified eyes, her mouth half open. His hand balled into a fist and Christine shut her eyes.
A loud bang echoed off the empty hallway as his punch left a dent in the locker, right next to her head. The rage inside him kept building up, so much that he let go of her shoulder, afraid he'd cause real damage. His fingers ached to wrap around her, squeeze so she could feel at least a small fraction of the agony inside him.
She opened her eyes and they were filled with tears. "Sam, please, you have to listen."
"Listen to what?" he raged. "Are you going to rehash how you've been sleeping with him behind my back? Because I'm really looking forward to hearing that again."
"No, it wasn't like that--"
"He told me, Christine! I heard you! How could you? And in my own house? With my best friend out of all the people in this world? Should I be grateful that you didn't take a stab at one of my brothers?"
She winced and pulled further back, though the locker wouldn't allow it.
"I was just lonely," she said in a tiny voice.
His fist slammed into the locker again and she whimpered. "So was I! So was I as I tried so hard to contain myself and not force you into anything because that's what your father said you wanted!"
For a moment, she looked surprised, then her eyes filled with that calculated look he knew only too well. "I'm glad you brought that up. Because this is your fault as much as mine and Harry's."
He took a step back. "What?"
"Did you ever think about that?" she plunged on with crazy bravery. "That if you weren't going to give me what I needed, I would look for it somewhere else?"
"Are you making excuses for yourself?"
"You wouldn't sleep with me!" she said, taking one step forward. "And I needed a man, Sam."
Sam didn't know what to say to that. Deep inside, he knew it was bullshit. But she knew where to hit him, how to play on his self doubt. Fortunately, the anger wouldn't let her win. Not this time.
"That justifies nothing! If something didn't work, you should've talked to me about it, not jump into bed with my best friend!"
"You--"
He punched the locker again and effectively silenced her. "Me nothing! This is on you. And we're done. So done."
He whipped around and stalked away from her before the next punch found flesh instead of metal. Because he didn't want to hurt her, not physically. She hadn't hit him. She'd used words and her body to destroy him.
And it had been more efficient than any weapon in the world.
♠️♠️♠️
I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it. I had to post this one, too.
And so begins the drama. The bomb has been planted and everything is waiting to blow up.
I'm curious how you feel about Harry after this? And Christine. You got her POV before so you sort of already know her reasons.
I'm also very curious about your thoughts on Sam's reaction. It's so hard to write this type of scenes without making someone the bad guy, but I hope it worked.
Now, of course, delicious aftermath whenever I get the chance to write it. Let's hope it will be soon.
Hit the star and leave me your thoughts!