Sam finally decided that there was no point to keep living in denial. Life sucked and he had to face it the way it was, so he chose to bury himself in college work. If he were completely honest, he did it because he couldn't stand being in his own house anymore.

Part of him feared the inevitable return of his father and what it meant to what was left of his family. The other part was sick of watching his mother pretending to be brave and acting as if nothing had happened. It was bullshit, everything had changed.

His last session with Skye hadn't helped. Sam had wanted to come clean about his parents' divorce, so he carefully prefaced it with a lengthy description of his family, actually answering Skye's irrelevant questions about his childhood. He'd wrapped it up so nicely, presented it so objectively, and then she'd dropped the bomb. He was a sheltered little rich kid who was for the first time realizing life wasn't all roses.

What had fallowed was a hurricane of curses before he stomped out of her office and swore to himself for the millionth time that he was never going back there. It was a lie. He would and soon because hating her gave him something to distract him from the rest of his shitty life.

Just like he'd hoped college would be a distraction. It turned out, it was a poor one. He could hardly focus on the classes and people were still surprisingly hug up on his personal life and the reason he broke up with Christine. Maybe screaming it from the roof of the building would make everyone happy.

His head pounded as he exited the building, the sense of exhaustion and numbness already achingly familiar. He really wished he would stop feeling like a zombie, but fat chance at the moment. If he could only get home and sleep. Or anywhere, actually. He faltered on the final steps, wondering where he should go. His first impulse would be Tom and Angie's, but since Tom had just moved out a day ago, it sort of felt like betrayal. For some reason, he wanted to see Angie though, even if just to comfort her. What stopped him was the feeling she'd sink a knife in his neck for looking like Tom.

"Finally! You're impossible to find these days."

Sam jumped and turned to his right. It was impossible and he was certainly hallucinating, because there was no way Christine was heading for him and had announced her presence as if nothing had happened.

But there she was, stopping in front of him, a small smile on her lips, shaking her head. The lack of sleep was getting to him and the throbbing in his head just proved it.

"I've been trying to talk to you since forever," she said, her tone light and friendly.

"Are you shitting me?" Hallucination or not, he was not going to let her act as if he'd failed to return her call once and she was now scolding him with good humor.

"I'm not. You've just hid away and left me no choice but to basically stalk you." She still smiled, but it was obviously forced now. "We need to talk about what happened."

"Have any news about it?" Why wasn't he just walking away? Why did his feet feel like they'd sunk into the last concrete step?

"You don't have to be an ass." She narrowed her eyes at him, finally revealing her real intention. Shifting the blame some more.

"If you're here to tell me how this is my fault, you can save your breath."

"I'm actually here to apologize and ask you to come home so we can talk."

"Wouldn't want to bother Harry now."

She gritted her teeth. "That idiot is not there. Who do you take me for? I told you it was nothing, just a moment of weakness from my part."

"How long did it last then, Christine?" Everything hurt with every word, but he finally had the chance to rage at her and he wasn't going to squander that opportunity. "Your so-called moment of weakness? One night? A week? A month? A year?"

He was getting to her, he could tell by the way her eyes flashed. Christine had never taken criticism well, and him calling her out on her cheating was getting on her very last nerve. But lashing out would mean pleasing the crowd that was already discreetly forming around them. She'd have to come out as a cheater, be the bad guy, and she wasn't having it.

"It hasn't been that long," she said between her teeth. "Can we please get out of here?"

"Why?" He spread out his hands. "Suddenly don't like the attention? Seemed different from all the clubbing you've been doing. You're a tabloid sweetheart now."

"Stop it."

He wouldn't stop it. He would be petty and continue jabbing her because she deserved it. "You know what the best thing about not being with you anymore is? The fact that I don't give a shit if you get upset anymore." And just like that, he brushed past her and away, his heart beating so fast, his vision tunneled, but who cared? He'd faced her and walked away with his dignity intact.

"You know what the best thing about not being with you is? Not trying to spare your damn feelings."

In spite of his better judgement, he stopped and turned to face her. She was livid, her brows drawn together and her fists clenched.

"You think you can just walk away from me? News flash, pal! It doesn't work like that, because you'll come crawling back to me. Who's gonna take you and your crazy mess of a life? Who's gonna take you when you can't even be a man? It wasn't that hard, Sam. It wasn't rocket science. All I wanted was for you to have sex with me. And if you wouldn't..." Her posture relaxed and she just shrugged. "Then there are plenty of other people out there who would. Don't think you can treat my like your second choice and get away with it. This is on you."

Her words pierced him like poison arrows, sinking into his skin, filling him up with a tidal wave of disgust he wasn't even sure was directed at her or himself.

"But..." Christine took in a deep breath. "I'm reasonable and accept I hold part of the blame, so I'm willing to forgive you. You can still figure your shit out and start acting like a normal boyfriend. And in turn, I won't have to seek comfort somewhere else. Just step up and do your job. It's not that complicated."

A whirlwind of images flashed before his eyes, memories of the times they spent together, of how close they'd come to actually getting it done. He'd made her scream so many times without even having to do what she apparently so desperately wanted.

"You faked everything?" His voice was so weak and pathetic he wanted to just die, but his entire body felt numb and he no longer wanted anything. Just to drift off and stay somewhere he wouldn't have to think or feel again.

"I had to give you some encouragement," she answered with an eyeroll. "Now quit making a scene and let's go home."

Nope, he was done. So done. "Fuck off, Christine. I don't want anywhere near you." And just like that he turned around and walked away. Because a new image was spinning inside his head, one of him strangling her, and that couldn't be healthy. He had to get away from her. 

"Play hard to get as much as you want," she called after him. "You know you'll be back. And just hope I'll still be willing to forgive you when you do."

His hands shook so badly, he was sure he'd crash his car, so he started off on foot, trying to focus on the sound of his footsteps as he walked away. He couldn't. Jogging and physical exercise of any type only made him sink deeper into his thoughts. She wasn't right. She couldn't be right. He wouldn't crawl back to her. He wouldn't.

His vision became hazy and his knees shook, but he kept moving even if he felt he was going nowhere. He'd get better. He'd get over her. There was no way she was right, no way he would...

Who would take you? She had a point there. Who would accept his crazy life and give him the sense of safety he needed? What if months would pass and he would crumble and go back to her just to feel loved again? And what if she wouldn't take him back then?

No, get that crap out of your head. It's over, it's really over. His head hurt so bad, it felt about to split open. He needed to go somewhere he'd be safe. To someone who would get the crazy out of his head. To... He stopped in front of Angie's door, not entirely sure how he'd gotten there, but convinced that she was the only one who could understand at the moment. Maybe she'd throw him out, but he knew she wouldn't.

When he rang the doorbell, it took Angie forever to answer. Or maybe just a few seconds because time was oddly distorted like that. She wore a checkered shirt and a pair of shorts that sort of complimented her red, puffy eyes. A tissue was crumpled in her hand and she sniffed as she took him in.

"You look as bad as I feel." She stepped out of the way and let him inside.

Sam just headed for the couch, trying not to crumble, not to think about Christine's words, about how miserable Angie looked. He didn't want to think about anything.

Angie closed the door, then sat on the coffee table in front of him, looking exhausted. "She got to you, didn't she?"

He nodded, his chin trembling, his mind numb and unresponsive. "What if she's right? What if I never find anyone who can handle my life? What if I won't be strong enough to get over her and will end up..." He couldn't say it. Something dripped down his cheek and he wiped it away with a nervous jab.

Her eyes filled with tears as she watched him, biting her lower lip to keep herself from crying. "She's an idiot. She's just scared you'll get over her and that's why she's doing this. You'll make it. You're strong. You're not like me." Angie lowered her face and sunk it in her hands as her shoulders shook.

A wave of rage swept Sam, but it quickly passed, leaving behind weariness and pain. "I'm really sorry about Tom. He's such a moron."

She shook her head so hard, it must've hurt. "He doesn't know. He only thinks this is about me leaving. But it still hurts so much. I needed him there to comfort me, I counted on it."

Sam wanted to ask, but a part of him didn't want to know. It had to be something bad and he wasn't sure he could handle more.

Angie didn't spare him. She kept crying into her hands, words making their way between sobs. "My family is dead. Their house burned down. I was so out of it, I didn't think about him for one second. If I'd just called..."

He grabbed her hands and pulled her into his lap, hugging her tightly against him. Yes, he was crying too, but fuck it. "Why is life so unfair? That idiot. That damn idiot."

"Christine is a bigger idiot," Angie said into his chest. "What the hell was her problem? Why did she have to go and cheat on you and with Harry of all people?"

"I wasn't sleeping with her and she apparently had to find a real man somewhere else." The words came out easy, because this was Angie and his head was spinning anyway, doing its best to numb out some of the pain.

She looked down at him, her eyes wide and confused, so beautifully green between the tears. "What? Why?"

"Her dad told me she wanted to wait until marriage and I did my best to give her that. I was such an idiot, not seeing the obvious--"

Angie took his face in her hands, her tears falling on his cheeks. "You're not an idiot. You're sweet and she's just horrible."

"So is Tom for leaving you in a moment like this, not seeing how amazing you are..."

"They are both idiots. We deserve much better," she sobbed.

Sam couldn't agree more. She deserved not to suffer, not to cry, to have someone adore her. He kissed the tears off her cheeks. She took in a sharp breath, her eyes never leaving his face.

And then it happened. He wasn't sure if he'd raised his face or she'd lowered hers, but in a moment they were kissing. Her lips were salty from the tears and her body hot and feverish. She twisted in his lap and straddled him, putting her hands on his face and kissing him back. He tightened his hold on her, his hands running up and down her back.

His head pounded, his mind reeled and his entire body ached, but he went with the flow, laying her back on the couch, his fingers brushing her leg. She had goosebumps. It felt weird, he wasn't used to kisses like this. Christine was slow and sensual. Angie was quick and furious, like a spreading wildfire. A perfect match for Tom.

A jolt to his stomach had him breaking it off and looking at her. There was a haze in her eyes that explained everything. He was an insensitive ass.

"I'm so sorry," he said desperately, pulling off her. "This was so insensitive."

"What? Don't be." She sat up too, looking confused. "I kissed you back, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah, but you probably thought I was Tom..." He stopped when she shook her head.

"I knew what I was doing. You and Tom kiss differently anyway. There's no way I could confuse you."

He faltered. "Different as in I'm worse? Better?" Why did that even matter? But apparently his brain decided returning to high school level was in order. That was why he'd been as stupid as to kiss his twin's girlfriend. Ex girlfriend. A small panic attack came and went in seconds.

Angie let out a wet giggle. "Just different. You're both great in your own way." She sighed and sank her face in her hands. "It would've been so easy if this could go somewhere."

"You and me?"

She nodded. "You're much better for me than Tom. I've known that for a while now. We're much more alike. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm in love with Tom."

"Fair enough." He agreed. Angie was a good kisser, but he really didn't feel like doing that again. He'd much rather stay friends. "I'm still in love with Christine, too." As stupid and as painful as it was.

"Plus," Angie continued, "I love you so much as a friend, I really don't want us to muddle it with... well, with anything."

"Couldn't agree more." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. It still felt comfortable, even after what had happened. "Thanks for telling me about your parents."

"Thanks for telling me about you and Christine," she mumbled back. "And don't believe her. You're no less of a man for what you did. On the contrary." She looked up at him. "You're amazing."

He kissed her forehead and then stared into empty space some more. Life was so weird. He'd just kissed Angie and here he was, cuddling up with her as if nothing had happened, both of them comfortable around each other even if they didn't plan on doing it again, accepting that they were in love with other people.

"Want to stay over?" she asked.

"Yeah. I have nowhere to go anyway. I don't want anywhere near that house."

"Why, what happened?" She glanced up at him, worry in her eyes.

Sam sighed because he really didn't want to think about this. "My parents are divorcing." Why did it hurt so much to say this? Tom was right. They were adults. And he couldn't deny that it was maybe for the best.

Angie clutched his shirt. "I'm so sorry. How's everyone?"

He understood the underlying question, but he didn't want to discuss Tom with her. "It hit me and Jerry hardest. The others are dealing pretty well with it. It's not like they ever liked Dad much."

Her hold on him tightened in a sideways hug and he had to agree he loved her to bits. But as much as he did, he wasn't in love with her. And even if he were, he could never betray Tom like that.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of Tom ever finding out what had just happened. As much as he claimed he and Angie was done, he'd probably beat the shit out of Sam.

"Let's eat something." Angie got off the couch and headed for the fridge.

Sam shrugged his shirt off, suddenly feeling hot. There was a reason Angie was walking around in those impossibly short shorts. He wondered if he should tell her to put something on, but he didn't mind and they were alone so who the hell cared? He pulled his t-shirt out of his jeans and arranged it.

"What are we having?"

"Will food scraps do?"

He let out a short laugh. God, it felt weird and freeing at the same time. He got up and walked to her, reaching the fridge just as she turned around and splattered him with a bowl of leftover pasta.

She looked at the giant stain on his chest, the food on the floor and just laughed. Sam joined her, letting it out because he was so sick of crying. His eyes still stung and he felt his face swollen.

"I'll put that in the wash," she said between hiccups.

Sam nodded and pulled his t-shirt over his head, trying to keep a straight face. She grinned and headed for the bathroom while Sam looked around for a broom or a mop or something.

The doorbell rang into the silence. With a frown, he opened the door. His heart jumped into his throat. Christine stood there, her face scrunched in confusion.

"Sam? What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Angie asked, coming up from behind and leaning her elbow on his shoulder.

"I wanted to talk to you actua--" Christine froze mid-word as her eyes took Angie in.

At that moment Sam noticed that she'd pulled on his shirt which was long enough to hide that she actually had pants on. He was shirtless. It looked really odd and he wasn't sure if to laugh or panic.

Christine frowned and turned to him. "Why didn't you tell me you were Tom?"

"I'm not," he said with a shrug.

"No scar, no tattoos," Angie pointed out, her tone light and joyful. "Now if you don't mind, you're interrupting." And she slammed the door in Christine's shocked face.

They both walked back to the living room, Angie taking his shirt off as she went. And when they were finally safe inside, they both started laughing again.

"Oh my God, did you see the look on her face?" she asked between rounds of laughter. "This was totally worth it."

"You're crazy!" But she was also right.

Whatever happened next, the look on Christine's face had been totally worth it.

♠️♠️♠️

I'm on a roll since I'm going to be taking a break from updating for a while.

I had to have Sam do something stupid and actually close this arch for him and Angie. They tried and it's not going to happen. They like each other a lot more as friends. Plus Tom is probably killing someone 😅

How do you feel about Christine? Girl can't take rejection. And do you feel like it made sense for Angie and Sam to take comfort in each other? Maybe not in the healthiest way possible, but still. They'll realize what they actually did later.

Any and all thoughts are welcome and don't forget to vote if you're enjoying the story.