Sam's Night

Andy woke up with a start when the elevator’s buzzer rang. Blinking the sleep off his eyes, wiping away a thin rivulet of drool from his chin, Andy checked his watch out of reflex. “Shit!” He realized he had prepared nothing for dinner, but he got up and rushed to the elevator, pressing the admittance button. The doors slid open, and Sam stood there, eyes wide, balancing on one leg while trying to slip a sock on her other foot. Her blue hair was a mess of curls, and she wore a sweatshirt over gym shorts. “You fell asleep too?” she said sheepishly.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling.

She walked in and crossed the room in three long strides, bypassing any morning pleasantries. “Okay, this is gonna sound needy, but I need a hug. Like, right now.”

Andy stood, braced, and she barrelled into him with all the confidence of… well, of Sam. She wrapped her arms tight around his ribs, face mashed into his shoulder, and just… stayed there.

He returned the hug, a little unsure at first, then more certain as he felt the tension go out of her. She was a full head shorter, but somehow it felt like she was holding him up, not the other way around.

After a long minute, she pulled away, not looking at him. “Sorry. If I don’t get my daily dose of human contact, I start thinking about murdering people.”

Andy grinned. “Thought you got one today. And I thought you’d recite Disney movies at your worst. Besides, you could just ask. The hugging, I mean, not the ****.”

Sam flopped onto the sofa and patted the space beside her. “Sure, but I want to pack one up for later. Sit. I need to borrow your aura for a while. Also, your heating pad.” She pointed at his chest. “You run hot. Did you know nights in a tropical island get cold?”

He chuckled. “I’m just a giant hot water bottle for you, aren’t I?” Andy sat, and she leaned in again, tucking herself under his arm. Her head rested on his shoulder, her legs drawn up on the couch. Andy marveled at how completely normal it felt—like they were back in the tiny shared apartment during their last year of college, cramming for finals and pretending the world wasn’t falling apart outside. Erin had never been on board with Andy and Sam sharing an apartment. But she had never understood their friendship, after all.

“Better?” he asked.

Sam’s eyes closed. “Way. There is a shocking lack of hugs in this hotel. You’d think, with the number of women wandering around, someone would’ve organized a snuggle party by now. Or a slumber party, at least. But no.” She made a show of sniffing the air. “Also, you don’t smell like sweat or armpit, so bonus points.”

Andy snorted. “Didn’t shower yet.”

“Don’t care,” she said. “You have big golden retriever energy, which is what the world needs.”

He let the words hang for a second, then asked, “You good?”

She thought about it, then nodded. “Yeah. I just—” She searched for words, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “You know how when a computer gets really slow, and you have to close all your tabs except the one thing you need, but then you remember there are like seventy tabs open in another browser window that you totally forgot about?”

Andy grinned. “Metaphor checks out.”

“That’s my brain right now,” she said. “I’m not as emotionally bulletproof as I thought.”

Andy gave her a little squeeze. “No one is.”

She nodded, then let her head drop back to his shoulder. “So. You want to ask?”

Andy glanced down, then said, “How’s Erin?”

Sam’s face went soft. “She’s brittle. Not in the way you think—she’s not going to break, exactly, but I think she’s trying so hard to stay angry that she’s going to burn out.” Sam paused, then nudged Andy in the ribs. “You still care about her?”

He nodded, slow. “I don’t think I ever stopped.” He paused. “Seeing her… brought back memories.”

Sam smiled, but there was sadness in it. “You’re a good guy, Andy. Even when you shouldn’t be.”

They let the conversation go quiet, the only sound the soft click of the hotel’s climate system and the far-off rush of surf.

Sam asked, “You ever think about just… quitting? Walking into Arabella’s office and saying, ‘No thanks, this is a garbage reality show and I’d rather go back to being a nobody’?”

He laughed. “Every day. But I can’t find her office.”

Sam elbowed him lightly. “Liar. You like the weirdness.”

He shrugged. “I can take it or leave it. But I like you more.”

She closed her eyes and let her head sink against him, tension gone from her jaw. “You’re the best fake boyfriend I’ve ever had,” she mumbled, voice fading as she let herself relax. He remembered when she’d introduced him as such to her parents, before she came out to them. She’d begged him to pretend. After that one visit, she had realized, though, she couldn’t hide who she was. She still teased him about that, though, six years in.

Andy sat there, holding her, and for a while, they didn’t move at all.

It was Sam who broke the companionable silence, rolling her face up toward him and grinning a little sheepish. “Okay, so, this is where you’re supposed to ask me what’s really wrong. Because you should know I don’t do snuggling often, there’s always something, and if you don’t, I’ll just make it weird by volunteering it anyway.”

Andy smirked, played along: “What’s really wrong, Sam?”

She huffed out a breath, then picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of her hoodie. “I’m gonna get voted off first,” she said. “You know that, right?”

Andy shook his head. “This again? Why would you think that?”

Sam shrugged, but the motion was a little too tight to be casual. “Come on. There’s a whole hotel full of brilliant, hot, hetero, and at least somewhat into-you women. OK, then you have Erin and Norah. But I’m the only one whose transformation is basically a participation ribbon.” She **** a smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous. I get to bunk down with seven gorgeous girls, ten out of ten, no notes. But what’s my role here, Andy? I’m not competing for your affection the way the others are. No offense, but I want to see you naked like I want to see pigeon droppings. I’m the chaperone.”

Andy let her words settle before answering. “Ah, pigeon droppings. Of course, the hottest of all droppings. But Sam, you’re not a chaperone,” he said. “You’re my friend. You matter to me.”

Sam blinked, then nudged his ribs. “That’s the right answer. But we both know the format. Every week, someone goes home. That’s what Arabella said. They don’t say it out loud, but I feel it, in the way the other girls look at me when I walk into a room.” She smiled, a little sad. “I’m the sacrificial lamb, dude. The example lesson. It’s fine, just… I wish I knew what kind of exit transformation I’m getting. If I have to be a pet, I hope I get to be a corgi. They’re at least dignified.”

Andy started to protest, but Sam shushed him with a hand over his mouth. “Don’t. Don’t say I’ll make it to the final round. It’ll just make it worse if I don’t.”

He considered, then just nodded, the best kind of agreement he could offer.

Sam stretched, arms over her head, then tucked her feet under Andy’s thigh. “So, can I ask you a weird question?”

Andy glanced at her. “Sure.”

She said, “Do you think the game is fair?”

He paused. “You mean the transformations? Or the way they score everything?”

“Both,” she said. “But mostly, I mean the way Arabella’s always… watching. She acts like she wants what’s best for you, but I think she also gets off on keeping everyone slightly off-balance.”

Andy laughed. “I used to think she was messing with us for fun. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Sam eyed him, surprised. “You’re not?”

He shook his head. “I think she’s trying to help, in her own way. Even if it’s brutal.”

Sam let that percolate, then grinned. “You’re getting soft, Andy Cooper. I’m gonna have to start calling you by your full name, just to remind you who you are.”

He snorted. “Go ahead.”

“Fine, Andrew Michael Cooper,” she said in a stage whisper. “Let’s break it down. Do you trust Arabella?”

He answered honestly. “I do. A bit. Maybe.” He blinked. Where did that come from?

Sam chewed her lip, then said, “I don’t. I mean, I respect her hustle, but she’s a manipulator. And I think she’s setting you up to… I don’t know. Break, maybe.”

Andy was quiet for a moment. “Maybe,” he said. “But maybe that’s what I need.”

Sam eyed him sideways, eyebrow arched. “Not the way I think she wants to break you. And you’re not usually this Zen. Is this the Andy I remember, or have you been replaced by a pod person?”

He grinned. “Pretty sure I’m still me. Just… more tired. And… seeing some coincidences that maybe are anything but.”

She nodded, like she could respect that. Then, switching topics without warning, “You wanna know who I think is getting the worst of it?”

Andy was curious. “Who?”

“Erin, of course,” Sam said, voice softening. “I know she’s hard, but the curse Arabella stuck her with… It’s cruel, Andy. She pretends it doesn’t bother her, but I’ve seen her after the group stuff, just sitting alone, eyes red. I think she’s losing it.”

Andy’s heart squeezed a little. “I wish I could help.”

Sam snorted. “That’s the Andy I remember. Fixer-Upper Andy.” She poked his shoulder. “Sometimes you gotta let people figure their own shit out. Otherwise, it never sticks. Especially considering the details of her transformation.”

He nodded, knowing she was right. “What about Norah?”

Sam’s face darkened. “She’s brittle, too. Maybe worse. She’s convinced that if she relaxes for a second, someone will stab her in the back.” Sam shrugged. “I like her. But she’s not built for this kind of game. Still, Emi said she spoke with her today, maybe cracked the shell.”

Andy sipped his coffee, thoughtful. “Do you think any of us are? Built for this kind of game, I mean?”

Sam looked at him, really looked. “Maybe not. But you’re the only one who’s even trying.”

He snorted. “You could say it’s easy to try when I’m not the one who gets transformed.”

They sat in silence a while. Andy found himself cataloging every little motion in Sam’s body language—the way she curled her fingers, the way her jaw set when she tried not to cry. She covered it well, but he could see her fear: not of losing, but of being forgotten.

Instead, he said, “You want to know what I think?”

Sam perked up, “Always.”

Andy drew a slow breath. “I think this is all about vulnerability. About making us admit what we want, and what we’re afraid of. Maybe fix the flaws that hold us back. Maybe the point isn’t to win, but to survive with your soul intact.”

Sam sat back, impressed. “That’s deep. Did you write that down, or just come up with it?”

He laughed. “Just now.”

She was quiet for a moment, then said, “You know what I’m afraid of, Andy?”

He waited.

She looked down. “I’m afraid I’ll get eliminated and nobody will notice. That I’ll just be a footnote in the experiment. ‘Sam Collins, token queer, nice hugs, eliminated week two.’” She swallowed, hard. “I don’t want to go back to my old life and feel like I didn’t matter.” She paused. “Especially if I do go back as a corgi.”

Andy put his hand over hers, steady and warm. “You matter to me,” he said. “You always have.”

Sam’s eyes were wet, but she wiped them with the back of her hand and grinned. “Damn it, Cooper. You’re supposed to be the robot.”

He shook his head. “Never was.”

Sam finally let herself smile, real and unfiltered. “I think you’re going to own this, Andy. I just hope you don’t lose yourself in the process.”

He didn’t answer, but the look he gave her was enough.

They spent the rest of the evening side by side, trading stories and old memories, until the world outside the suite faded away and all that was left was the quiet, steady pulse of friendship.

When they decided it was time for bed, Andy made a relaxing herbal infusion and poured two mugs, setting one on the nightstand while Sam wandered the bedroom, studying Katherine’s painting with undisguised hunger (Katherine pretended to be a normal painting) and rummaging in the closet for pajamas.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, holding up a pair of flannel pants she’d clearly stolen from the wardrobe. “The women’s sleepwear is all, like, negligees. I’d rather sleep in a sandpaper sack.”

Andy grinned. “Didn’t even know they were there. Knock yourself out.”

She ducked into the bathroom and came out a minute later, hair damp, face clean and honest. “So, question,” she said, crawling onto the bed, “actually, two. Can I keep her?” She pointed her thumb at Katherine’s painting. “And do you think spooning counts as a valid substitute for a daily hug?”

Andy considered. “Ah, the painting comes with the Suite. I don’t want to be the one to tell Arabella you’re… ‘researching’ with it. And as for spooning… pretty sure Arabella would say you only get one Suite night per week.”

She huffed. “That’s cold, Andy. But, honestly, I’m glad. I can only take so much testosterone in one dose. And no offense, but the other girls smell better.” She threw a pillow at his face, then settled on her side, back to him. “Can you…” She murmured. “Would you hold me? Just until I fall asleep?”

Andy joined her, feeling the mattress dip with his weight. For a second, the arrangement was supremely awkward—should he go full spoon, or was that overstepping? Sam didn’t make it easier; she lay perfectly still, hands under her chin, pretending not to care but obviously waiting for him to commit.

Finally, Andy just draped his arm around her waist and let his hand rest on her hip, loose and light. Sam snorted, then scooted back into him until they fit together like puzzle pieces.

“See?” she whispered. “Not so bad.”

He chuckled, the warmth of her back against his chest already relaxing him.

Spooned by the Master! +1 VP

They lay like that for a while, the silence interrupted only by the occasional creak of the walls and the wind outside. Andy watched the moon through the window, a pale white coin rising over the sea. He thought about all the years he’d known Sam—how easy it was to be honest with her, how rare it was to have a friendship that survived every bad decision either of them ever made.

Eventually, Sam spoke, voice so quiet he almost missed it. “Hey, Andy?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitated, then: “If I get booted, and turned into a corgi, will you come visit me in the kennel? Bring treats and stuff?”

He smiled. “I’ll adopt you and give you treats every day.”

She was silent for a while, then said, “I hope you make it without changing too much. Not for the harem or whatever. Just… because you deserve to be happy. Even if you don’t think you do.”

Andy pulled her a little closer, chin resting gently on her hair. “You too, Sam. I don’t care what you turn into. I need you. I can’t do this without my best friend.”

She made a little noise, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “Shut up and go to sleep, Cooper.”

He closed his eyes, letting the warmth and weight of her fill the space between them.

Across the room, Katherine’s painting caught the moonlight, the green eyes glinting in the pale silver. Shortly afterwards she heard the rustling of sheets and Sam's whisper, "Cooper, you don't know how to spoon properly. Let me show you how it's done."

Katherine looked at the bed—at Andy and Sam, curled together in the dark—and her painted lips bent in a happy smile.

Spooned the Master! +1 VP
First! x2