Visitations, Part 4

The buzzer rang before Andy’s back even hit the bed. It startled him, even though he’d been half-expecting it to ring again, Third time's the charm, after all. He considered ignoring it, just lying back and letting the silence wash over him. But the Suite seemed to lean in, every shadow and ripple of moonlight eager to see what kind of idiot answered his door after midnight. And he had a responsibility.

He crossed the floor in three long, **** strides, jammed the “Permit Visitor Access” button, and braced himself as the elevator doors whispered open.

Sam stood inside, hands shoved in the pockets of her faded jeans, red flannel shirt with its sleeves rolled up, worn white sneakers, blue curls framing her face. She gave him a sheepish, crooked smile, then immediately looked away and scuffed her sneaker against the floor.

“Evening, Master,” she said, putting a heavy, sarcastic spin on the last word.

Andy rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “Don’t do that. You’re the third person to visit tonight. Should I be flattered, or just terrified?”

She shrugged, but her shoulders moved higher than he remembered. “You always liked to keep a harem, right?” Her tone was light, but the weight of the last twelve hours clung to her like a soaked T-shirt. She kept shifting her weight from foot to foot, and every time her gaze ticked up to meet his, she flinched away.

He realized, after a moment, that she was fighting the urge to hug him. The compulsion wasn’t subtle. She was literally vibrating with it, her arms tensing at her sides, her fingers twitching like they wanted to leap for his torso and squeeze until something snapped.

He decided to make it easy. He stepped forward and opened his arms. “Sam. Seriously. Do you really think you have to ask? Come on. I hear it works better if you just get it over with.”

She snorted, relief washing over her features. “Yeah, that’s what the therapist always said.” Then, before he could make a joke about that, she closed the distance and wrapped her arms around him in a full-body, no-escape bear hug.

It was weird. Not sexual—nothing about their relationship was, after all—but deeply physical. Sam’s body was warm and solid, her arms locked with the certainty of someone who’d been bracing herself all day and finally found a place to exhale. Andy felt his own tension unravel, atom by atom, as she held him. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, her breath short but even. He didn’t know how long they stood like that, but when she finally pulled back, her eyes were shinier than before.

“Okay,” she said, with a hiccup of a laugh. “That’s definitely a thing now. It’s like an emotional defibrillator.” She squeezed his biceps, testing, then let go and kicked off her shoes towards the wall, near the elevator. She sauntered into the lounge and flopped onto the couch, one leg tucked under the other.

Andy followed her, slumping into the other corner. “Did it help?”

She made a face. “If by help, you mean ‘reset my emotional equilibrium so I can make more bad decisions,’ then yeah. Thanks. At least they picked a good guy for mandatory hugs. Though it would have been better if they picked Marissa.” She grinned and rolled her neck, popped her jaw, then turned to him, more serious. “I’m not just here for the hugs, though. I wanted to make sure you weren’t, you know, drinking bleach or making a noose out of the bathrobes.”

He smiled, small and grateful. “No bleach. No bathrobe nooses. I did drink a couple of whiskey shots, though. For the rest, I’m just… tired.”

Sam nodded, then squinted at him, picking apart his words with the same precision she used to correct his physics homework in college. “You look like shit,” she said, not unkindly. “Worse than you did during finals week, and I saw you the day you tried to drink forty-eight ounces of Red Bull before a midterm.”

“That was your idea,” Andy said, indignant.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” She grinned, then softened. “I mean it, though. You can lean on us. Or, you know, at least you can lean on me. I’m surprisingly sturdy.”

He laughed, then let it fade into a long sigh. “I keep thinking I’m supposed to fix this. But I don’t even know how. And I know, I know this isn’t my fault, it isn’t my choice. But still, Arabella just—” He stopped himself, unsure if the walls had ears.

Sam picked up on the silence. “She’s in your head, huh?”

“She’s everywhere,” he said. “It’s like being in a chess game where the board keeps changing shape. I keep thinking if I just play the right move, I’ll break out, but…” He shook his head. “The house always wins.”

Sam leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped. “That’s because she doesn’t share the rules.” She looked at him, dead serious. “We’re not going to outsmart her. But I suppose, we just have to outlast her. Or, failing that, make a better story than she’s expecting.”

He snorted. “Is that what you’re doing?”

She shrugged. “I’m playing the game, sure. Not an easy game, by the way, for a lesbian best friend. Don’t expect anything more than light spooning and the occasional snuggles. But I’m also making sure she doesn’t get to break you.” Her eyes flicked up, met his, then dropped again. “I saw what happened with Erin. You can’t let her get to you like that.”

He grimaced. “You think I broke her?”

“I think she came here pre-cracked,” Sam said, voice low. “But that transformation—tying her pleasure to you—was a shit move. I don’t know if Arabella is just trying to provoke you, or if she actually wants to see if you can help put Erin back together. I can’t read her. But either way, be careful.”

He didn’t have an answer, so he just nodded, staring at the floor.

They sat in silence, the only sound the low whir of the air conditioning and the slow tick of Sam’s sneaker against the leg of the coffee table.

Finally, she spoke again, softer. “Is this… what you wanted? Any of it?”

He blinked. “God, no. I didn’t even answer the damn invite. It’s probably still where I tossed it when you gave it back to me.”

She nodded, as if that made sense. “Good. Because if you said yes, I was going to punch you. Hard.” She flexed her hand for effect, then grinned, mischief back in her voice. “But, I mean… there are worse places to be trapped. At least the bar is top shelf.”

He smiled, then let himself slouch, the exhaustion catching up. “You think anyone back home is worried? Or do you think they just… move on?”

Sam frowned, thinking. “They’ll notice. Eventually. But if Arabella can make people appear out of nowhere, she can cover her tracks.” She looked around the suite, taking in the view, the lighting, the luxury. “We’re in a different universe, Andy. Might as well enjoy the perks. Or at least the cupcakes.”

He glanced at the cupcake, still cut in half and untouched on the table. Sam followed his gaze, then did a double take. “Wait, does the painting… always look like that?” She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “I swear it just changed.”

Andy froze, then looked at Katherine. She was still smiling, but her eyes were fixed on Sam, the painted face tilted ever so slightly in their direction. Still, she pretended to be a normal painting.

He shrugged, playing it off. “It’s definitely a… unique painting.”

Sam grinned. “I’ll say. Mind if I borrow it from time to time… for research?” She shot a quick glance at the kitchen, and back at him. “Got any beer?”

He pointed at the fridge. “Check in there. I’m still acclimating.”

She got up, padded barefoot across the carpet, and returned with two bottles. She cracked one, handed it to him, then took a swig of the other. “Here’s to surviving day one,” she said, raising the bottle.

He clinked it, then drank, letting the cold fizz burn the day’s edge away.

Sam sat down, closer this time, her knee brushing his. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, bracing himself.

“Why are you being so nice to everyone? Not just me. All the girls. Even the ones who are total assholes to you.” She tilted her head, studying him. “You’re not like this back home. Or, you weren’t. What changed?”

He considered, then said, “You’re all here because of me. I didn’t choose this, I didn’t choose to bring any of you here… but you’re here because you intersected my life. Some of you barely knew me before this, like Dawn. I have a responsibility, you know? And… maybe I’m just trying to do it differently this time. Maybe I’m sick of being the problem.”

Sam mulled that over, then smiled. “Well, for what it’s worth, I like this version of you. It’s less punchable.”

He laughed, then sobered. “What about you? Is this… are you okay with this?”

She sighed, the humor fading. “It sucks. But honestly, I kind of needed a reboot. Mikaela and I had a big fight the day after you and I met at your place. I wasn’t in a good place. Maybe this is the universe’s way of saying, ‘Sam, stop fucking up and try again.’”

He looked at her, unsure if he should go there, then decided: “I’m sorry. About Mikaela.”

She shrugged, but her eyes glistened. “Nothing I can do about it. She said I was too much, too loud, too… everything.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “But she’s probably right.”

He shook his head. “She’s wrong. You’re the best person I know.”

She glanced at him, searching his face for the lie, then smiled for real. “You’re a softie, Andy. No wonder Arabella put you in charge.”

They fell into a quieter silence, both sipping their beers, the heaviness of the day settling like a blanket over their shoulders.

He changed the subject. “You think the others are all asleep?”

Sam laughed. “Norah is probably building a spreadsheet of ****. Erin’s most likely running laps on the beach. I think she needs… distraction. I’d bet you ten bucks that Marissa is taking notes on everyone for a future research paper.”

Andy smiled, picturing it. “And Claire?”

Sam’s eyes went soft. “That one… She’s on another level, you know? She’s probably drawing up blueprints for how to fix us all. Or maybe just writing you a letter she’ll never send.”

He nodded, the ache in his chest both heavier and lighter at once.

Sam finished her beer, set the bottle on the table. “I should go. If I stay, I’ll want another hug, and then you’ll never get rid of me.”

He smiled. “You can stay as long as you want.”

She stood, stretched her arms overhead, then offered him her hand. When he took it, she pulled him to his feet, then, without warning, wrapped him in another hug. This one lasted longer, her face pressed to his collarbone, her breath warm against his skin.

When she let go, her eyes were clear. “This one wasn’t because of the compulsion. Andy, don’t hide in here,” she said, voice gentle. “Whatever happens tomorrow, face it. That’s what the Andy I remember would do.”

He nodded. “I’ll try.”

She grinned, then tapped his shoulder. “Good. And if you need me, you know where to find me. Probably making lattes for the ladies.”

He laughed, then walked her to the elevator. She stepped inside, then turned back. “Hey, Andy?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be a stranger. And… thank you. For the hugs. For all of it.”

He smiled, and this time it was real. “Thank you, Sam. For being here.”

The doors slid shut. Andy stood, staring at the empty hall, then let out a breath that seemed to take half his weight with it. He wandered back to the bed, collapsed on top of the covers, and stared at the ceiling. For a moment, he felt almost at peace.

And then, of course, the buzzer rang again.

He groaned, rolled over, and dragged himself back toward the elevator, already bracing for whatever fresh hell was waiting behind the next set of doors.