Sam.

~~~

Three days had passed since I'd uncovered Scott's dishonesty, and my emotions had run high at that time. Today, though, I just felt numb. I sat on the couch, cradling my coffee in both hands, my thoughts circling the same familiar loops. Linkin Park played softly in the background, their raw lyrics providing some semblance of structure to my fractured routine.

"Do you want some French toast?" Molly's voice broke through my haze.

I looked up at her standing in the kitchen, spatula in hand. "What?" I asked, distracted.

"French toast," she repeated. "Do you want some?"

"Uh, no. Coffee's enough for now." I tightened my grip on my Slytherin mug as if it might save me.

Molly had been staying with me for the past two nights, which I suspected was part of some unspoken arrangement between her and Raymond. Ray came by every day, checking on me, but Molly spent the nights here, camping out in her old room since her boyfriend, Mason, was still in Vancouver.

"I almost forgot to tell you something," I said, my voice breaking the quiet hum of the music.

"Yeah?" she replied, coming to join me in the living room.

"Tom texted me last Saturday."

Molly froze for a moment. "Tom?" she asked, cautiously.

I nodded. "He said he's coming in two days."

Molly choked on her toast, coughing and sputtering as she set her plate down. "Why?" she demanded, her voice raspy.

"He claims it's for business," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Business?" she scoffed. "Tom's a real estate agent in New York. What business could he possibly have in L.A.?"

"I don't know, but I'm guessing it's a lie. He said he wants to talk."

Molly's brows shot up. "Oh. Right. Your four years expired."

I sighed. "What are you, a countdown clock?"

"Well, I'm just saying..." She trailed off, then tilted her head at me. "What are you going to do?"

I stared into my mug, tracing the rim with my thumb. "I think, I'm done. It's time to end this cycle we've been stuck in." Her mouth opened slightly in surprise, but she said nothing for a moment. "You know how I feel," I added softly. "Every time I see him, it all changes. But... I can't keep doing this."

Molly chewed her toast slowly, thinking. After a beat, she set her plate aside and came to perch on the sofa, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder.

"How'd you land on this decision?" Her tone was teasing, but her eyes searched mine.

"It's time. It should have been time a long time ago." My voice wavered as the words escaped me, but deep down, I knew I was right.

Molly swung her legs over the back of the couch and plopped down beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. "Is this because of a certain brown-eyed rock star?" Her green eyes gleamed mischievously.

I sighed loudly, shooting her a sidelong glance. "I don't know." She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe," I admitted with a small smile. "But it's not the same. I don't feel about Raymond the way I felt about Brian or Jason. Or even Tom."

"Good." She nodded firmly. "You should end things with Tom—for your sake." She paused, studying my face. "The first two years with him? Sure, they were great. But after—"

"Don't," I said sharply, cutting her off.

Her eyes softened. "I'm sorry. You're making the right call, though. I'll go take a shower, okay?"

I forced a smile. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Molly. I know you mean well."

After she left, I finished my coffee and wandered into the kitchen. Before I could even rinse my mug, the doorbell rang.

Probably, Ray. I thought, heading to the door. I swung it open without checking and froze.

"Scott," I said, my heart plummeting to the floor.

His wide smile and open arms nearly made me recoil. "Hey, who else?" he said, pulling me into a quick hug before stepping inside.

"I... wasn't expecting you," I managed, forcing a smile.

"Figured I'd stop by," he said casually, glancing around.

I struggled to keep my breathing steady. Just stay calm. He didn't know what I knew. At least, I hoped he didn't.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and lied through my teeth. "Yeah. Totally fine."

He kicked off his shoes and walked into the living room, feeling Scott's presence like a storm cloud I couldn't shake. He sprawled himself in my armchair, looking far too comfortable, while I stood there, forcing a casual tone.

"Want some coffee?" I offered, hoping to steer this interaction into something mundane. The normalcy was my armor, my best defense.

"No, I'm good." Scott leaned back, his expression hard to read. Then his eyes squinted, studying me too closely. "You look fine. Any pain today?"

"Feeling better," I replied cautiously, caught off guard, reminding me of a white lie I told him so that I could avoid the interaction. He seemed... off. Different than three days ago.

"Good, good, good," he repeated, his hands gliding down his thighs. The movement made my skin crawl. "So listen, what happened at the club?"

"What do you mean?" I shot back, trying to sound indifferent. "You passed out." My heart pounded at the thought. Did he suspect I knew?

"Yeah, but before that," he said, his voice carrying a strange edge. "I barely remember Rory's performance."

He was lying. I could see it in the way his eyes darted, never fully meeting mine.

"Not much, I guess," I said with a shrug, playing along.

Scott laughed, a sound that grated on my nerves. "I'm not gonna lie. We smoked a little weed before you came, and then all those shots. That must've done the trick." He leaned back, tucking his arms behind his head like it was all a joke.

"Probably," I muttered, biting the inside of my cheek. I couldn't let my irritation show, though it bubbled just beneath the surface. "So, why didn't you tell me you live across the street?" I added, forcing a grin. My lips twitched slightly at the corner. Did he notice how fake my smile was?

Scott shrugged. "Sorry, I should've mentioned it. I just felt a little embarrassed, you know? Your apartment's so... enormous," he said, gesturing dramatically toward the ceiling. "And mine's, well, unimpressive. Luxury's not in my budget right now."

"You know I don't care about that stuff," I said, the words automatic but truthful.

"Yeah, well, now you know." His tone was lighter, almost teasing. "So, are you going to yoga on Thursday?"

I froze for a split second. How did he know that? My schedule wasn't exactly public knowledge.

"No, I've got other plans," I said, shifting uncomfortably and tucking my legs under me.

"Are you quitting sports now? First the gym, and now yoga?" He smirked, pointing at my stomach. "You've been doing so well. Your butt's almost decent, and your stomach's flatter than ever."

There it was—those "compliments" of his. They were the reason I could never fully grasp the concept that he was in love with me. He had this way of turning everything into a backhanded remark, as though my appearance was some kind of project he'd been overseeing.

"I'm not quitting," I snapped, my voice firmer now. "I'm just taking a break for a week. I told you that already." He didn't seem fazed, and it irritated me even more.

Before I could dwell on it, I caught a glimpse of Molly coming toward the living room. She stopped short, clearly recognizing Scott, and spun on her heel, retreating to the guest room. A door slammed shut, way louder than I'd expected.

Scott leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "What was that?" he asked, his eyes darting toward the hallway.

"Probably Molly," I said, keeping my tone even. "She was taking a shower."

"Why is she here?" His voice held an accusatory note.

"We had a girl's night," I replied calmly, my gaze steady. "She spent the night. Mason's in Vancouver, remember?"

"Oh, right." He chuckled awkwardly, his posture relaxing again. "I forgot about that."

We fell into a conversation about nothing—pointless small talk that dragged on and on. All the while, my mind raced, searching for a way to get him to leave.

The doorbell rang, cutting through my thoughts like a lifeline. My chest tightened. What if it was Raymond? The bell rang again, insistent.

"Aren't you gonna get that?" Scott asked, gesturing toward the door.

I forced myself up, my legs feeling heavy as I approached the door. When I opened it, I blinked in surprise.

"Hello, Samantha," a calm, unfamiliar voice said.

I stared at the man standing there. He was tall and lean, with light brown hair and a face that could've been carved by a sculptor.

"Remember me?" he asked, his tone patient. "I'm your neighbor, Paul."

I hesitated, trying to place him. He noticed my confusion and gestured toward the end of the hall. That's when I saw Raymond standing there, nodding subtly. My heart thudded as the realization sunk in.

"Oh, right. Paul, yes, sorry. My head's a little foggy today," I said quickly, pulling myself together. "Can I help you with something?"

"My wine opener broke," he said, holding up the item in question. "I was wondering if I could borrow yours?"

"Sure," I said, stepping aside. "Come in. I'll grab it for you." Paul stepped in, his gaze sweeping over the apartment.

Scott got up from his seat, moving toward us. "Hi, I'm Scott," he said, offering his hand.

"Paul," the man replied, shaking it firmly.

They exchanged pleasantries, but I wasn't paying attention. I rummaged through a kitchen drawer, finally pulling out the wine opener.

"Got it," I announced, holding it up.

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver," Paul said with a warm smile. "My girlfriend's on her way over, and it's our anniversary. I've got this wine from Italy I've been saving."

"Congrats," I said, watching as Scott slipped on his shoes.

"Thanks again," Paul said, heading for the door, but still lingering, assessing Scott.

Scott turned to me. "I'll head out too. Think about what I said about the gym," he added with a smile that made my skin crawl.

"Sure," I said, barely hiding my relief as the door closed behind them. Finally.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Scott and Paul, I stood there, frozen, staring at it like it could somehow explain what just happened. My fingers hovered over the latch, and I felt my pulse gradually slowing, my thoughts racing. I need a new door, one with a peephole.

"Did he leave?" Molly's voice came from the hallway. When I turned, she stood there, looking pale, her green eyes wide and unfocused. She looked more frightened than I felt, and that was saying something.

"Yes," I said, exhaling deeply. The tension in my chest loosened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I could breathe properly again.

"So, Ray took care of him?" Molly's voice steadied, but she still looked hesitant, almost fragile.

I shook my head, trying to process it. "No, it wasn't Ray. It was... some guy. A stranger. But I saw Ray in the corridor. I think he was keeping watch." My words tumbled out as I tried to make sense of it all.

Molly's shoulders relaxed, her posture softening. "I called Ray," she said after a moment, her voice still shaky. "That was probably the guy he mentioned."

"You called him?" I stared at her, eyebrows shooting up. That piece of information completely blindsided me.

Molly crossed her arms and gave me an incredulous look, tilting her head like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Why else would I leave you alone with that creep?"

I didn't know what to say to that. The weight of everything caught up with me as I stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. Her familiar scent of vanilla swirled around me, chasing away the lingering stench of Scott's cologne. Relief washed over me, and for the first time that morning, I felt safe.

"Thank you," I murmured, my voice muffled against her shoulder.

Molly pulled back just enough to look at me, a small smile breaking across her face. "I know this isn't the time," she said, her tone light but teasing. "But Raymond is so good to you. Like, way better than Tom ever was." Her smirk tilted mischievously, and she tilted her head to the side.

I raised an eyebrow, not in the mood for her commentary. "You're right—this isn't the time, Molly."

We both laughed quietly, the tension easing, until the sudden chime of the doorbell shattered the moment. We both turned, our eyes snapping toward the door like deer caught in headlights.