Reese’s eyes flit to each of us, the phone in her death grip looking ready to crack. She makes a strangled sound and stomps from the room.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“That decides it,” Bruno says with a clap. “Sam, pass those shot glasses. I feel a round of Never Have I Ever coming on. Drama makes me thirsty.” A series of woo-hoos and all rights rise from the group.
While they set up, I nod to Leigh, who’s sitting so close to Paige they’re practically conjoined. “You sure you’re okay?”
Still glowing from that fairy-tale kiss, she says, “Tomorrow’s gonna suck, but yeah. I’m good.”
God, that girl is brave.
After the first round, my glass is still full, but Callum has admitted to an unfortunate event with Bengay and a jockstrap, and Brianne has come clean about a thin white T-shirt and a water hose. Sam’s free hand stays on my thigh, inching up my skirt, whispering periodically how it’s still his favorite. It’s the floral skirt I wore on the airplane that gave him an unimpeded view of my nether region.
Bruno and he have spent much of the last half hour studying Leigh and Paige, Bruno wearing a typical look of male wonder, no doubt picturing himself in various unclothed positions with the two girls, both of whom would likely rather snort wasabi than be with him. But Sam looks pensive.
As if aware I’m watching him, he turns and puts both hands on my shoulders. “You ready to own your crazy?”
What the…? His look of mischief has me shrinking on the bench. “Sorry. No. Please. No. Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.”
“You can’t apologize your way out of this, Canada. Check out Leigh.” He flicks his head toward her.
She has such an air of ease, she’s almost unrecognizable. As though releasing her truth into the world has unburdened her. At least momentarily. So she has owned herself, and Sam walks around in shorts, no longer hiding his scars. What about me? Thanks to him, I’ve faced down a number of phobias, but in a group of friends, I’d still rather hide behind the façade of normal than parade my eccentricities. And he’s calling me on it. The guy who doesn’t even know my name.
I look back at Leigh—her broad smile, the shine in her eyes. If she can risk it all and come out laughing, I can, too. Sitting taller, I grip my shot glass. “Okay, do your worst.” I can be courageous. Fearless. I’m a regular Joan of Arc.
He drops my shoulders, squeezes my thigh, and holds his other hand in the air. “My turn,” he calls.
All heads turn our way, and I gulp. Maybe I’m more Cowardly Lion than Joan of Arc. I doubt anyone will notice if I slip under the table and huddle in the fetal position. My floral skirt will for sure camouflage me with the floor tile. Or I could pull the fire alarm.
Sensing my imminent freak-out, Sam tightens his grip on my leg. Then he says, “Never have I ever…” OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod. He won’t really do it, will he? “Wet myself on an airplane, tossed out my underpants, then flashed a very flustered guy.”
He sure did.
My heart shoots to warp speed, my neck so tense it might snap, and everyone looks at Sam like he’s lost his freaking mind. “Own it, Canada,” he whispers.
So I do. I lift my shot, drain the vodka, and slam it down, fire burning the length of my throat. While I sputter and cough, I keep my attention focused on the single drip cascading down my empty glass. Bruno’s hyena laugh nearly shatters the thing. Then Leigh hollers, Callum chuckles, and Brianne giggles, the noise loud enough to wake the hostel.
“Priceless!” Bruno falls over on the bench in hysterics.
“That you are,” Sam says into my ear, his nose, then lips, finding my neck. I shiver from the contact and glance at our friends. I’m no stranger to laughs at my expense, but the warm smiles and genuine humor on their faces isn’t hurtful. Or mocking. As Bruno’s cackle escalates, I find myself laughing with them. I snort in the process and Leigh points at me, falling face first onto the table. Sam loses it, too, slapping his knee and holding his chest.
So this is chasing your crazy. And catching it.
I’m not sure if meeting Sam was preordained, a magical twist of fate. But it’s because of