Chapter Text
Jess’ weird behavior fizzled out over the next couple of weeks like it never happened. Sam’s cautious, though. At the café, she’s half studying, half stealing glances at Jess, who looks perfectly fine now.
There was a stretch where they barely saw each other, but then Jess started planning study sessions again. Started planning hangouts. Everything’s normal. Maybe Sam was just overthinking. Maybe Jess really was busy with school, like she said. Maybe her absence had nothing to do with Sam liking girls.
A few weeks later, Sam’s on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes follow the cracks, her mind stuck on what happened that night, when she came out to Jess.
Her phone pings on the nightstand, and the sound makes her stomach jump. Nobody else texts her this late so she already knows who it is before she even picks it up.
Sam, come over? It’s an emergencyyyyyyy <3
Thirty minutes later, they’re sitting on Jess’ bed. Sam is cross-legged, facing her while Jess is on her knees, leaning in with a brush steady in her hand.
Sam stays still – or tries to, anyway – eyes flicking up for a second before darting away. Jess is too close. It makes Sam nervous.
“This was your emergency?”
Jess laughs under her breath – not even bothering to answer. The brush drags soft across Sam’s cheek, a light dusting of blush. Sam’s never been a big fan of makeup. She puts on concealer, water line liner, and mascara on a good day, at least, but Jess is in a doll-playing mood, and, of course, Sam would let her.
“Do I really have to come to this party with you?” Sam asks. Jess just hums, completely focused on her task, like she didn’t even hear her. Sam’s lips twitch upward anyway.
“‘Course you do. It’s basically your job now,” Jess says after a moment. So she did hear her. Sam almost laughs, feeling a rush of something warm in her chest, even if Jess is making her go. “I need my best friend with me. It’s always been like that.”
Sam smiles, eyes still closed, and she feels Jess pause. At this, she opens her eyes, and Jess is staring at her. Sam’s heart skips, and before Jess can say anything, she blurts, “Yeah, but Em actually liked parties. Your current best friend just wants to stay home for once.”
Jess pouts, and Sam’s eyes catch on the shape of it before she can look away.
“Yeah, but I’d hate to go alone. Come on, Sam.” Jess’ voice turns playful. “What if something happens?”
“What could possibly happen?” Sam counters. Jess' hand comes up, tilting Sam’s face gently.
There is a lot that can happen. She thinks of Wendigoes, a car crash, a house fire, and everything that can go wrong. Maybe all those things are partly why she’s coming even though she hates parties.
“Close your eyes,” Jess murmurs, breaking her thoughts.
Sam does. There’s a pause, and Sam can feel the hotness of Jess’ breath on her cheek. “So many things can happen at a party, Sam.”
“Like what?” Sam asks, even though she knows.
Jess is quiet for a second. “I’ll miss you.”
Oh.
She purses her lips, trying to school her expression, suppressing the real blush under the fake one Jess just brushed on. It always surprises her when Jess says things like that, things that show that she values Sam more than Sam thinks she does.
“You’ve been to, like, a thousand parties without me,” Sam says.
“Yeah, but it’s different now,” Jess insists, her thumb tracing lightly over Sam’s cheek. It’s so gentle that Sam almost wonders if she’s imagining it. “It’s too late for you to back out, so don’t even bother, okay?”
Whatever Jess says always goes.
And that’s how Sam ends up in a house she doesn’t even know. Lara’s, apparently. One of Jess’ teammates.
She brings the red solo cup to her lips and drinks. It’s just water, obviously — Sam can’t help but worry about who’s going to take Jess home (not in that way…). Someone has to get her back to the dorm, and it’s going to be Sam. Responsible, sober Sam.
Sam is hanging back, a wallflower as usual, watching Jess move through the crowd. Jess has friends everywhere, and Sam can’t help but notice how easy it is for her. She sips her water and wonders what she really has to offer, standing here.
Jess catches Sam’s eye and waves her over. For a second, Sam thinks about slipping out the door, but that would be ridiculous since she’s already made eye contact. So, she lets out a long breath, and heads over instead.
The house is packed. She has to wiggle her way through, accidentally bumping into two people pressed up against the wall making out. Her cheeks heat up at the sight. She tells herself it’s just because she hasn’t kissed anyone in forever — no other reason.
She finally sees Jess at the end of the crowd, in the middle of a circle of friends. Everyone’s loud, everyone’s drunk, and Jess looks so happy.
Right as she reaches her, Jess slings an arm around Sam’s shoulders, which is easy for her since she’s taller. Her grin is wide as she starts introducing Sam to everyone on the varsity cheer team, one by one.
Sam feels a little ridiculous, standing here. It’s like she’s some kind of celebrity; most of them have a reaction when Jess says her name, like they already know her, like Jess talks about her when she’s not around. It makes the tips of her fingers tingly, and she takes a sip from her water to ground herself.
“So, you’re the famous Sam?” A redhead (whose name Sam already forgot) leans in and murmurs to her after the introductions died down.
“The famous Sam?” Sam repeats, and chances a nervous glance at Jess, who’s too engrossed in a conversation with someone else to notice this exchange. She looks back at the redhead, swallows the lump in her throat. “Uh, I guess.” Sam hesitates, before adding, “uh, why does everyone seem so starstruck by me?”
The redhead chuckles, shakes her head. “Oh, nothing. Just that our beloved team captain literally hasn’t stopped talking about you ever since you two reconnected. Usually she’s so nonchalant about everything, and anyone — including hot guys. Now she’s just Sam, Sam, Sam.”
Sam stares at her.
“What are you telling her, Megan?” Jess’ voice suddenly cuts in through the noise and Sam almost jumps. She looks over at her, and sees her face unnaturally red. It’s the alcohol. Probably. But there’s a twitch in her right brow, a telltale sign that she’s nervous.
“Nothing! Just telling Sam here how nice it is to put a face to her name!” Megan says, smirking in a way that says otherwise. Then she starts dancing, slowly backing into the crowd.
It doesn’t take two seconds before Jess opens her mouth again. “What was she telling you?”
Sam wants to ask Jess why she’s so fixated on this, why there’s a bead of sweat falling down the side of her face and why she seems so nervous and jittery all of a sudden.
“Nothing,” Sam mutters. “Just that… she said you talk about me a lot.”
Jess gets even redder. Her lips part, and Sam waits for her voice to go all high and awkward, but before Jess can say anything, some guy slides in next to her, draping an arm over Jess' shoulders as if he belongs there. And he kind of looks like he belongs there.
He’s tall, and a football varsity jacket clings to his frame. So, they basically look like poster children for some kind of romantic comedy. He kind of resembles Mike.
“Hey, Jessica!” he says, grinning, not even glancing at Sam. She feels her stomach twist, but she tries to ignore it.
Jess shrugs him off, and Sam tries not to look too pleased about it.
“Chad,” Jess says, flat, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
His smile falters for a moment before he recovers, looking at Jess like he’s surprised she’s pushing him off. “What? Haven’t had a drink yet?”
“We could be the last people on earth, Chad, and I still wouldn’t waste my time with you,” she says, not even trying to sound nice. “I’m busy right now, so go somewhere else.”
Sam’s used to watching Jess reject people. Back in high school, Jess had admirers everywhere. Sometimes she’d play along, just for fun. But now? It’s like she doesn’t even want to waste her time with them.
The only person who ever really had Jess swooning was Mike Munroe… but that’s done with. Or maybe not. Sam wonders if he’s ever reached out. She’s seen his Facebook — he’s still at every party, always a new girl clinging to him. Not surprising. That boyish grin probably works on everyone except Sam.
Chad finally glances at Sam, eyebrows raised. “Oh, hey. You one of Jess' friends? You a cheerleader?”
Sam almost laughs. Her? A cheerleader? “Uh, no.”
Jess sighs. “Chad, seriously. Just go.”
He shrugs, throws Jess a wink. “Whatever. You know where to find me.” Then his gaze flicks back to Sam, something different in his eyes now. “That goes for you too.”
Sam, confused, watches as he disappears into the crowd. When she turns back, Jess is still watching him leave, brows furrowed.
“He really knows how to push my buttons,” Jess mutters, before meeting Sam’s eyes.
A beat. Then:
“Is that one of the things that usually happen at these parties?” Sam asks, lifting her cup to her lips just to have something to do.
“Unfortunately.” Jess rolls her eyes, then reaches forward and hooks their arms together. “But with you on my arm, I feel safer.”
“You know, if Chad ever actually punched me in the eye, I’d be useless, right? I’d probably go straight down.”
Jess laughs under her breath. “He’d have to go through me first.” She’s smiling at Sam, soft and fond.
It’s almost too much to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright. Too blue. Sam can’t stop staring — can’t stop thinking about how pretty she is. Jess’ arm is looped through hers, warmth bleeding through the leather.
“I really like this jacket on you,” Jess says suddenly, her other hand brushing over the sleeve. She hums. “Might have to steal it one day.”
The thought of Jess wearing her jacket makes her feel so many things. It’s a surprise she’s managed to respond with, “if you like it on me so much, why steal it?”
Jess’ brows lift like she’s surprised with her answer, and it’s then that Sam realizes how close they’re standing, and how it seems like they’re… flirting? But it can’t be. Jess is straight — that’s for sure… so Sam’s definitely imagining this weird tension she’s feeling in the air.
… right?
“Um…” Jess says eloquently, and Sam can see that she’s rendered speechless for some reason. Jess doesn’t get speechless so… what was up with that?
“Jess! There you are.” Megan pops up out of nowhere, already grabbing her arm, Sam trailing behind them. “Come on, we’re playing Truth or Dare in the kitchen.”
Just like that, the moment’s gone.
Nobody really knows who Sam is, so she’s barely picked. Jess, however, is the star of the show — unsurprisingly. Every other round, it’s her name. She keeps picking truth, and the questions stay simple. Until they don’t.
“Jess… who in this room would you kiss?”
Sam barely has time to process before Jess glances at her. Their eyes meet for a split second — so quick Sam almost convinces herself she imagined it. But it happened. She knows it happened. No amount of self-gaslighting could talk her out of it.
“Oh, uh…”
Again, Jess is speechless. It throws Sam off, because sure, she’s seen Jess at her worst (and at her best), but Jess almost never lets her guard slip in public. Jess is the loud one, the charismatic one — she doesn’t like people she barely knows being able to tell what she’s feeling. It isn’t like her to just… pause like this.
Sam glances around the room. Chad looks pathetically hopeful, and Jess' friends keep flicking their eyes between the two of them, clearly waiting for Jess to pick him. Meanwhile Jess just sits there, lips parted.
Then she clears her throat. “I’d probably, um… kiss…” She bites her lip. It’s a tell, something she always does when she’s nervous. So she is nervous. But why?
“It’s gonna be me,” Chad cuts in, smirking. His friends burst into premature cheers, which makes Sam want to roll her eyes for her.
Jess actually does. “No. I was going to say I’d probably kiss Sam.” She waves a hand toward Sam, casual, like the words are nothing.
The game moves on like Jess never said it. Sam spends the next few rounds staring at the floor, replaying the words in her head, trying to process. Jess hadn’t even explained herself — not that she got the chance. The circle had erupted, Chad insisting she was lying, everyone else demanding answers, and Jess had just ignored them all.
Just when Sam thinks she’s in the clear until the end of the game, someone says her name.
She looks up. One of Jess' cheer friends. Sam’s bad with names.
“So, Sam, are you gonna be brave and pick dare?” the girl asks, smirking.
Sam lets out a short laugh under her breath. No way. “Truth.”
Several people groan in exaggerated disappointment, which earns a round of laughter. Sam just clears her throat and tries to focus on the girl — the one who may or may not actually be nice to her.
“Would you kiss Jess back?”
A surprised laugh slips past Sam’s lips before she can stop it.
She’s already sick of this game. The last thing she wants is to spill her actual feelings in front of a circle of half-drunk strangers… but lying somehow feels worse.
Friends can kiss, can’t they? Especially girl friends.
But — Sam cuts herself off — she’s gay. Jess… isn’t. And Jess knows that she is. That makes it different. Doesn’t it?
Except Jess was the one who picked her in the first place.
God, when did her life spiral into problems like this? Problems so far from the life-threatening ones she had on that mountain, and yet somehow just as terrifying. She knows the answer should be obvious — of course the mountain was worse — but this feels life-threatening too. Like whatever she says next could completely upend everything.
No more sleepovers. No more movie nights. No more café study sessions with Jess.
What is Sam without Jess? She doesn’t even know where Jess ends and she begins.
There was a time when Sam didn’t have to worry about shit like this. Back when Jess was Emily’s best friend, Mike’s girlfriend. And Sam was Hannah’s best friend — Beth by extension — and she ate lunch with them, with Chris, Ash, and Josh. Those days felt easy.
Who would’ve thought that years later, the girl who used to sit across the cafeteria holding court with the popular kids would end up being her best friend?
They lived in different worlds then. In some ways, they still do.
Sam lives in petitions and protests, in speaking up for animals and the environment. Jess lives at the top of a pyramid, doing flips, enchanting the whole student body with just a smile.
But they also live in trauma, in fear, in the mountains, running for their lives. And sometimes one of those worlds overpowers the other. Being with each other makes it hurt less for both of them. What’s the science behind that, anyway? Trauma bonding?
“Sam?”
She’s yanked back into the circle, out of her head. A lump in her throat. She has to answer or it’ll be weird.
“Um, I would probably kiss back, yeah,” she blurts, quicker than she means to.
The group reacts loud and over the top again, but Sam’s eyes go straight to Jess. Jess is already looking at her. There’s a furrow in her brow. Then she blinks, looks away. She says nothing, and just clears her throat, a sound that can barely be heard over the music and people talking.
An hour later, Sam and Jess find themselves in the backyard alone. The music inside is slightly muffled, though it is still really loud. They’re sitting beside the bonfire, and Sam’s staring into it, yellow and orange hues highlighting her face.
Jess hums to the music and watches the sky. She smells like a mix of alcohol and her vanilla perfume. She has a drink clutched in her hand, and she’s tapping the rim with her red nails. The rhythmic tick is soothing.
The energy of the Truth or Dare game finally died down. Nobody has brought up the incident yet, but Sam feels a lump in her throat the more minutes pass. It’s like a time bomb waiting to go off.
But Jess seems relaxed. Sam looks at her, lets herself look at her. The fire makes her look softer. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, like she’s thinking about something. Sam wonders if they’re thinking about the same thing.
Then Jess meets her eyes, her gaze softening. “What?”
Sam smiles. “Nothing. Just… what are you thinking about?”
Jess clenches her jaw, then smiles back, but it’s tight. “Nothing important.”
Silence slips in between them. Jess starts chewing on her lip again.
“Jess,” Sam says quietly. “I know it’s important when you do that.”
“Do what?” Jess asks, her voice dripping with faux innocence.
Sam picks up a loose leaf from the ground and tosses it at her. Jess giggles, the sound breaking the tension.
“Be serious.”
“Okay, fine. But I’m gonna need to drink a little more before I share.” Jess tips back her cup and downs the rest, determined. Sam watches, amused, as she turns it into a whole performance.
When she finally finishes, Jess grins. “How about we play a guessing game?”
Sam groans, and Jess laughs — the sound carrying straight into Sam’s chest, warming it. “How many games do we have to play tonight?”
“Just one last one, Sammy,” Jess says softly, and how can Sam say no to that?
“Fine,” she relents, fighting a smile. “You’re really drunk, by the way.”
Jess rolls her eyes, lips curling. She sits up straighter. “So, I’m thinking about something that happened tonight.”
Sam’s heart skips. It’s obvious, but Jess wants to dance around it — and for once, Sam does too. “Huh. Something that happened tonight? A lot of things happened.”
Jess just hums.
“Okay… is it about Chad?”
Head shake.
“When you did a keg stand?”
Another shake.
“Am I warmer?”
Shake.
Sam hesitates. “Is it… about the Truth or Dare game?”
Jess’ brow twitches, and she leans forward just a little. Bingo. She’s been thinking about the game. The only question is — which part? Sam’s pulse kicks up, and she knows she doesn’t want to dance around it anymore.
She’s always had this gut thing, even as a kid — like a warning bell that goes off before something happens. On the mountain it saved her more than once, made her sharper, told her when to duck, when to hide. And now it’s back, humming under her skin. Something is about to happen.
Sam just never knows whether it’s good or not…
Jess finally nods.
“Okay,” Sam breathes, her pulse skyrocketing. “Um… is it the, uh, question. That one question?”
Jess has the gall to look at her like she’s confused — like she doesn’t already know which one Sam means, as if Sam could possibly be talking about any other question.
“Are you really gonna make me spell it out, Jessica?”
Jess laughs like she always does when Sam full-names her.
Sam loves her. She really does. Jess makes her feel normal in a way no one else ever has. Jittery at her fingertips, skin buzzing, heart racing — but still normal. Like a college kid at a party, not a survivor.
With Jess, it feels like she could forget the mountain, forget all of it. Like she’s just meeting her for the first time tonight, drawn in because she’s cute. And Jess would lead her out to the backyard, and maybe let her kiss her. Like she meant what she said back in Truth or Dare.
“No, you don’t have to spell it out,” Jess says slowly, grinning now. She picks at the frayed edge of her chair, fingers trembling just enough for Sam to notice. “Um, yeah. I was thinking about the game,” she admits. “That one question, like you said.”
“And what about it?” Sam’s throat is dry, drier than before.
“I don’t know,” Jess says softly. Her nails worry at the fabric, tugging loose threads. “I just… hope it didn’t make anything weird. I picked you because… well, I trust you the most.”
“Yeah?” Sam murmurs, knowing her face is making a pathetic expression.
“Yeah, and, well… are we really gonna act like you aren’t a hotshot?” Jess says it like a joke, but her voice is too steady. Everything else she’s been saying tonight has been slow, slightly slurred. Not this.
Sam’s brows furrow, and she eyes Jess, tries to find her tells, but even drunk, Jess is suppressing them quite well. The only thing giving anything away is just her voice, something Sam shouldn’t even be noticing, but of course she does because she notices everything about Jess.
“Hotshot?” Sam repeats, bewildered. “Did I hear that right?”
Jess rolls her eyes. “I know you heard me.”
“No, really. I’m confused. I’ve never…” Sam looks into the distance, trying to process this. “I’ve never seen myself like that. You’re telling me you do?”
Jess breathes out a laugh, brows furrowing even as she smiles. “What? Yes, you are. You’d be blind not to see it.”
Before Sam can react, Jess reaches forward, catching the loose strands that frame her face. “You’re beautiful, Sam.”
Sam freezes, lips parted, no words. What the hell is happening right now?
Jess’ hand trails down until it cups her cheek. Her thumb moves across her skin like she’s holding something fragile. Blue eyes roam Sam’s face like she can’t decide where to land.
“You have your pretty hazel eyes,” Jess says softly. “Freckles you don’t even notice. Ridiculously long lashes.” She pauses, smiles to herself. “Don’t even get me started on…”
Her thumb shifts, brushing from Sam’s cheek to her bottom lip. She traces it lightly, and Sam swears her whole body sparks. Her brain keeps chanting — what is going on — as she stares at Jess’ unfocused blue eyes, pupils blown wide.
“On what?” Sam manages.
Jess’ eyes go up to meet hers. Like she’s waking from a trance. She pulls back fast, hand dropping, lips pursing. Sam can see the walls slam up in real time. Her cheeks flush red, and she buries her face in her hands.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is muffled.
Sam reaches forward, wraps a hand around her wrist, pulling gently until Jess’ face reappears. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
Jess’ eyes are shining now, tears clinging at the corners.
“I don’t know. I-I’ve been so… God, I’m sorry, Sam…” Jess’ voice cracks, and then she’s sobbing.
Sam doesn’t think. She just stands and pulls her in. Jess rises too, arms wrapping tight, clutching the back of Sam’s shirt like she’ll fall without it. Her face presses into Sam’s shoulder, wet with tears, and Sam holds on.
“What is wrong with me?” Jess cries, and Sam pulls back, just enough to look at her face.
“Jess, nothing’s wrong with you,” she says softly, her hands coming up to cup her cheeks. She wipes her tears by swiping her thumb over them. Gentle, just like how Jess was earlier. “Why are you crying? Didn’t you have fun tonight? You had all your friends… I got to meet them. They all love you, I just know. Because I do, too.”
“Really?” Jess manages to ask between her soft sobs. “You love me?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Even when I’m just a mess?”
“We’re all a mess,” Sam murmurs. She leans forward, and their foreheads touch. She closes her eyes. “You helped me, Jess. I was drowning before you. You crying after a party isn’t gonna change that.”
Jess just sniffles quietly. At least she isn’t sobbing anymore.
After a moment, Sam tries again. “What’s got you crying, anyway?”
“Nothing,” Jess answers after a while.
Sam leans back, giving her a look. “You’ve been saying nothing all night, but nobody cries over nothing, especially not you.”
Jess steps back, wiping her face with the edge of her sleeves. She sighs exasperatedly, and then groans. “Oh, God. I look like a mess, don’t I?”
She’s deflecting, but Sam doesn’t have it in her to press, even if she really wants to know. It might upset her more to be questioned.
“No, you look perfect,” Sam decides on saying instead, fixing Jess’ hair and wiping the tears Jess missed. “Are you ready to go?”
Jess nods her head, and they go.
Twenty minutes later, after Jess says a million goodbyes, they’re in Sam’s car. Jess slumps in her seat, sighing, and Sam stifles a laugh as she flicks on the A/C and turns up the radio.
A pop song comes on. Jess scrunches her nose.
“No, change it.” Her voice is rough from crying.
“To what?”
“Classical.”
Sam breathes out a laugh as she switches the station. There’s nothing like blasting Mozart at 3 a.m. with your drunk best friend in the passenger seat. Jess has her eyes closed, smiling to herself, softly humming along.
“I like listening to what you listen to, you nerd,” Jess says.
“I don’t only listen to classical music, Jess.”
“Whatever you say, Professor Giddings.”
Sam starts the engine, rolling her eyes. “That doesn’t even make any sense. You have no punchline.”
Jess grins. “I just like imagining you as a professor. All serious and professional. You’d look cute as one.”
Sam’s cheeks burn. She doesn’t answer, just backs out of the spot and drives away.
She will never come to one of these parties again.
By the time Sam gets them to Jess’ dorm, Jess is barely upright. Slurring, one-word answers. Sam opens the door, peeks in — no roommate. What a relief.
She almost drops Jess dragging her to the bed. Jess flops down, out cold in seconds, soft snores spilling out. Sam smiles. Her arms are stretched over her head, her mascara smudged, and her - usually perfect – eyeliner is gone.
Sam sighs, gets up to find the makeup remover in Jess’ drawer, and comes back. She kneels at the bed, wipes gently over her eyes, down her cheeks.
“Sam?” Jess mumbles.
“Yeah?”
“Can you stay?” Jess doesn’t wait for an answer. She tugs, pulling Sam into bed with her.
Sam’s cheeks heat instantly. Jess is close, too close, arm wrapping around her, face pressed into her neck, breathing her in.
“Jess, I—I should go,” Sam whispers, trying to push her off, but Jess doesn’t budge.
“Stay,” she says, muffled against her skin. “Please?”
And whatever Jess says goes.