The Boy I Hate(91)

“Better,” she croaked. “What did you bring me?”

He furrowed his brow and opened the bag. “Well let’s see…” He pulled out three bottles of juices, ranging from red to orange. “I wasn’t sure which one you’d like, so I got orange, passion fruit, and I’m not sure what this one is.” He grinned. “She tried to tell me, but…”

Samantha grinned, propping herself up to kiss his nose. “Thank you. You’re the sweetest.”

“Ahhh… But that’s not all.” He stuck his hand in the bag and pulled out a Styrofoam cup and a loaf of crusty bread. “It’s only bone broth, but I thought if you were hungry—”

Her eyes began to water, and he stopped talking, setting the broth on the table to move closer. “Are you okay? Is it your throat?”

“No,” she said shaking her head. “It’s you.” She wiped at the corner of her eye and hugged him. Gripping his body to hers with all the strength she could muster. “How did I get so lucky? How is it possible I found someone to love me this much?”

He hugged her back, all his muscles tightening around her at once. “I’m the lucky one.”

Eventually they sat side-by-side, tearing off pieces of the delicious bread and soaking them up in the warm broth as they watched a movie. It wasn’t the ideal thing to do on vacation in Paris, but they still had three weeks left, and she couldn’t think of anything else she’d rather be doing.

When the movie was over, she peeled herself from the mound of blankets and took a shower. She washed her hair for the first time in a couple of days, and when she got out, she felt practically like a new woman. Clean, fed, loved.

She found Tristan over by the window, looking out at their spectacular view of the city. Her hair was tied up in a towel, and she wore one of his threadbare old t-shirts that smelled just like him. She walked toward him, because even a year later, she still craved to be near him. She set her hand on his shoulder, and rested her face against his muscular back. “Do you know what today is?” she whispered.

“No. What?”

“Your sister’s one year anniversary.” She moved to his side, and he draped his arm around her shoulders pulling her closer. “Do you think it’s a good time to call?”

He smiled down at her, then moved the short distance to the table to fetch his phone. “Let’s find out.”

“Hello,” Renee answered on the first thing. She was on speakerphone, held in Samantha’s palm as they looked out the window.

“Hey Ren.” Samantha smiled. “Your brother and I just wanted to call and wish you a happy anniversary.”

Renee laughed. “You’re in Paris on vacation and remembered my anniversary? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Tristan took the phone from Samantha and started laughing “Samantha’s sick, so we’re just hanging out, waiting for her to get better.”

“Aww… Well that sucks. I thought she sounded different.”

Samantha grinned, and Tristan handed her the phone again. He then moved behind her, and began massaging her lower back with firm fingers. “Could be worse,” she said softly.

The two friends then went on to chat about the normal things. Work, life, and all the strange things only a best friend would care about. But before long, Phin could be heard in the background, and Renee was getting off the phone.

“Well, we’re about to go out to dinner, and I can’t find my shoes. I’ll tell Phin you called, and I’ll expect a whole rundown of your trip when you get home.”

“Sounds good,” Samantha whispered.

They all said their goodbyes, and then Samantha turned around, to rest her cheek on Tristan’s chest.

He hugged her tightly, peppering kisses along the side of her neck, “Do you know what else today is?” he whispered.

She only grinned, feeling herself getting turned on even in her state of weakness. “What?” she asked.

He kissed her again. “The anniversary of the day you first told me you loved me.”

She turned around, tears brimming her eyes in surprise. “It is, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “The best day of my entire life.”

She tilted her head, squinting up at him. “The best? Because I remember that day, and it felt more like a slow, endless torture.”

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek and looked into her eyes, as if the realization still pained him. Very much. He then lowered his hands to the small of her back and closed his eyes for a moment. “It was torture for me, too.” He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes allowing her to see all the emotion that lived inside of him. “I watched you walk out of the reception that night, thinking it was the last time I’d ever see you, and it—” But he shook his head, unable to continue, as though he didn’t want to relive the pain. He dropped his chin down to the crevice of her neck, as though he needed her closer, needed her as much as she needed him.