SAM

The bookshelf slipped from Sam's hands with a heavy thud and Sam whirled back, cursing up a storm as he reached for his toe as pain shot up through his bones, muscles, and his very soul. Ned hurried over as his side went back down. "Sam! Are you okay? What happened?"

Not sure what to do, Ned kept his hands hovering around Sam. "Is it broken?"

Flushed to the tips of his ears, Sam pushed up his glasses and sighed, letting his foot go as he lowered to his hind legs. "I'm fine," he groaned out. "I'm fine. I just—my hand slipped. It's fine."

An itchy irrational feeling festered across Sam's skin like cheap cotton peeling down his edges. He wanted to pick and gnaw at it. Restless to rid himself of this frustration. It was impossible to control his facial expression, toeing the line between anger, horror, and even a twinge of humiliation. He might as well just rip his clothes off and run through the neighborhood.

Sam asked, "You're going on a date? Today? The day before Christmas Eve?"

"Uh, yeah." Ned rubbed the back of his neck. "There was this guy—"

"What's his name?"

Crazy person.

Sam Hayes sounded like a crazy person.

Ned made him crazy.

"Oh, uh Griffin. We're in the same gym class and I don't know." Ned shifted back and forth, almost dancing, and Sam thought he was going rip out of his skin. "Neither of us ever wanted to play whatever sport coach wanted us to play, so we've been walking around the gym together all semester and talking and he just asked me out last Friday."

He just kept going like everything was fine and like the world wasn't falling apart. "And you know, my parents like it when I find a way to get out of the house. They like keeping the noise to a minimum."

"And do you like him?" Sam asked, a glutton for punishment.

Behind Sam, he could feel his past self laughing at him. A side splitting, snorting, silly laugh right at him. Just behind Sam was the very spot where Ned Flowers kissed him three years ago and now, Ned Flowers of today was standing in front of him, threatening him with a date. A date with someone other than him.

A date on its own was harmless.

But it promised more.

What if this date went well? And they bonded over the things Sam lacked like a love of Christmas, the ability to be honest, and a normal family that didn't hate Ned's guts. They could date openly. Without hiding from their parents' disapproval.

Sam hadn't stopped thinking about that kiss from three years ago. Three years of walking up porch steps and recalling the way Ned leaned into him, the way he smiled, and softness of his lips. For three years, Sam was wondering if he kissed Ned wrong and that was the reason they never kissed. The reason they never spoke about the kiss again.

And if he did such a terrible job kissing Ned Flowers, did that mean he'd never get his chance to kiss Ned again? He wanted one more chance. One more chance to kiss him right. Sam could want something all day, all his life, but it wasn't going to happen.

Ned quirked his brow, and he opened his mouth, when Sam realized he'd rather throw himself off a cliff than listen to his answer. "Never mind," he quickly cut Ned off. "My foot's fine. Let's just get this to my house and Maggie will help me with the rest..."

As soon as the idea came to Sam's head, he couldn't stop the words now flooding from his mouth. He didn't want to feel all this pain and anger alone. He wanted to lash out. Wanted to be back on equal footing.

If Ned could do it? Why couldn't Sam?

"Because you know, I actually have a date tonight too." He stared right into Ned's eyes as the words left his mouth and Ned Flowers didn't even flinch.

"Really?' He asked. "That's a wild coincidence."

He even laughed and Sam's whole face was enflamed. He started talking more, weaving this lie into something bigger than a scarf or a sweater. This was going to be a giant lie quilt. "Yeah, that's another reason Maggie wants my help because... because she's going to help me get ready. She's setting me up."

"Maggie's setting you up?"

His surprise wasn't crazy. Margaret didn't run in the same social circles as them. Hers were all jocks and preps while Sam's friends consisted of three people and a few acquaintances he sat next to at lunch sometimes. Not that her friends weren't nice to Sam. He usually had a good time with them, but polite conversation and spit swapping were on two totally different levels.

"Yeah," Sam continued, "it's uh- a friend of hers she's bringing to the Christmas party."

"You're going to the Christmas party?"

"Yes."

"But you hate Christmas—"

Sam opened his mouth to argue, his chest tightening at the sight of Ned wilting like a sad puppy dog.

"And you hate parties!" Ned insisted.

It was aggravating to be known so well and yet misunderstood time and time again. How did Ned know all of Sam's likes and dislikes without clueing into what Sam liked most of all? Ned Flowers. Sam hated him.

They dropped the shelf on Sam's front lawn. Their eyes met as Ned and Sam caught their breath, Sam still buzzing from his lies. He gazed into Ned's dark brown eyes so long, Sam almost got sucked right into them. His longing burned like the very end of a candle. Surrounding wax threatened to extinguish the flame, but Sam still somehow held on. Somehow still bright.

Sam fibbed again, "Well, I like going on dates so..." He crossed his arms, annoyed by how easily every lie fell out of his mouth.

These didn't feel like the comfortable lies he'd tell his parents about plans to go to law school, about liking his mother's homemade eggplant lasagna, or that he was fine. These lies felt too powerful. These lies felt like opening doors he didn't know how to close.

"So," Sam sighed. "I'm excited. I can call you after."

Ned stared at him a beat longer before he smiled and nodded. "Okay, yeah. That sounds good. Uh, call me if you need a ride or anything."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Sam tightened his grip on his arms. Ned lingered. They stood there. Not speaking. Just staring as if Sam was supposed to be a goddamn mind reader. With greater effort than necessary, Ned looked like he physically had to move his feet back. Sam watched him leave the grass and had to pick his own feet up, too. Glancing behind his shoulder, Sam realized Ned wasn't watching him go, so he kicked it into gear and dashed inside, slamming the door behind him.

"Maggie!" He called, running past the living room, only to fall back.

His sister was perched on the couch, curled up in a flannel blanket with her laptop on her stomach. Her brows raised. "That was quick."

"Hey, I need a favor."

She groaned, squirming against the couch. "I saw that shelf and I'm too comfy. Can't Ned just grow a set of balls and walk into our house?"

"No, uh it's not that. Well, it is too. I guess I need two favors."

Her deepened grimaced aged her thirty years and suddenly, she looked just like their mother.

"Set me up for a date tonight. Whoever is going to this stupid Christmas party."

"You want to go?"

"God, no, but I have to go now."

"Okay, okay, okay," Maggie said, raising herself up and setting her laptop to the side. "Go back. Where's this coming from?" This strange declaration didn't slow her down. She stood, grabbing Sam's arm and tugging him to follow her to his bedroom.

"I really don't want to talk about it. Can't I just owe you a favor?" Sam begged his twin. "Anything. You can ask me to do anything."

Margaret's scowl didn't disappear. Normally, that would've been an offer too sweet not to take. She opened his closet, shifting through every hanger. "One day all that stuff you keep stuffed inside of you is going to explode." She eyed him. "Just try not to stand too close to me when that happens."

Sam peered at her. "Shut up. You got a C in English last year. Don't try to sound deep. What are you looking for?"

"Something descent," Margaret explained. "You weren't planning to go, so I doubt you have anything to wear."

"I do—" Sam nudged her out of the way. "Let me grab it. You find me a guy."

"It's not a long list, Sam." She rolled her eyes. "Our high school isn't a Mecca of Queer people. You're basically friends with half...." Still, she opened her phone and did some light scrolling. "And then they have to even be going to the party tonight. Oh—I might have someone. What's your opinion about guys who play soccer?"

"My opinion is that I have no opinion."

"I'll shoot Thomas a text, then."

Sighing, Sam reached into the deepest part of his closet to pull out a few options for his sister to hate, nitpick at, and eventually settle on. He glanced at the top shelf, wondering if his bar mitzvah suit would still fit when he locked eyes with the small handwritten note taped to the door.

Ned Flowers might be the only guy in the world with nice handwriting and Sam loved looking at it. It was some note on a scrap piece of notebook paper that Ned shoved into Sam's locker one random day. Unprovoked. He just wrote his review on The Outsiders after he had to read it for class and gave it to Sam.

And at the bottom, in beautiful letters, he wrote: STAY GOLD, PONY BOY.

By now, the paper had grown soft. The ink had faded. But he cherished it. Sam had a small envelope with all kinds of notes Ned had written. Little ideas he jotted down from one of the thousands of stories running through his brain. Doodles he drew during class. Sam collected them like a dragon hungry for gold pieces. A crush on someone's short hand. The way they put care in every little line and curve. Sam blushed when he read his name in Ned's handwriting.

But this one had always remained Sam's favorite. Not because he particular enjoyed The Outsiders, but because Ned wrote this review up without being asked. Just because. Just because Ned had thought about Sam.

"Alright," Maggie said suddenly and Sam jumped, snapping the closet shut. "I've got a guy, Thomas. He came out as pansexual this year." She raised her phone to show Sam a picture of someone their age in a soccer jersey with warm brown skin and a black buzz cut. Sam didn't recognize him, but he didn't care.

Margaret added, "He dated Taylor Smith last year, so he obviously doesn't have any standards." That was a pointed comment at the clothes on the bed.

"Thanks, Maggie."

She wrinkled her nose, eventually picking out what Sam wanted to wear the least. He had only one plain black suit that he's only worn twice: at their great grandmother's funeral and their aunt Ruth's wedding.

"A suit?" Sam grimaced.

"Everyone's gonna be fancy. Have you seen my dress?"

"Can I at least wear sneakers?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, but you have to wear contacts."

Sam groaned, falling face first into his bed. If he knew this was going to be one of the most painful days of his life, he wouldn't have bothered getting out of bed. Possibly, he shouldn't have even been born. What a stupid thing to be. A person. They're all just flailing about and while most people can figure out how to fail upwards, Sam spent too much time tumbling down a very steep, never ending hill.

Bruised, bloodied, and stupid.

#

THE GREGOR

This story is essentially about Ned. Ned, who is about to embark on a date on which he gets stood up on, but this story is also about the dates Ned should've gone on. This same night, Ned could've been on a nice friend date with Lena and baked cookies and watched Elf for the third time this month. It could've been the perfect opportunity for Lena to tell her secret to Ned.

But that's not what happened.

Possibly, Ned could've accompanied Indie to their white elephant party.

But that's not what happened.

Ned could've gone out with Sam, if he was brave enough to confess again, three years after his initial failure.

But that's not what happened.

This is about Ned getting stood up.

But this story is also about Sam's date, who doesn't stand him up, but Sam would wish he did. Sam's date, who might be the worst date in the entire world Margaret Hayes could've chosen, but Sam won't know that for at least a few more hours. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hello! Hello! Again. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! What did you think about Sam's reaction? And what are your thoughts about The Gregor's POV??? That foreshadowing is worrisome. Lol. 

Please vote on the chapter and add it to your library if you like the book! All comments are appreciated, printed, and put on my refrigerator. And if you're enjoying yourself, check out my other books~ I've got two completed queer babies in my library.