Page 83 of Shifted Desire

“Sam, come on, we’re just trying to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m sick of always being the wrinkle that always needs ironing out. I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner. Unless you think I should stay home from that, since I’m such a problem.”

I don’t listen as they respond, storming off the restaurant’s patio and down the street, blood boiling as I imagine them talking about how much of a dramatic bitch I am.

When I get to my car, I blast the AC full force and take a moment to get my emotions under control before I drive anywhere. The anger cools as my temperature lowers, and with that comes a stinging shame that makes my eyes prick with tears.

Are they right about me?

I think back on my terrible track record at events and the trail of people I’ve ghosted and been ditched by. All evidence points towards yes.

I shouldn’t bother him, but I dial Max’s number, needing to know if it was our sisters ganging up on me or if he thinks I’m a problem too.

It goes to voicemail. Of course it does. He couldn’t come to brunch with us because he has dance class with Mona to prep for the wedding.

Dammit.

I don’t bother leaving a message and instead send him a text to tell him that it was a butt dial. He doesn’t need me bothering him with my drama. Especially when it’s clear that I’m always the one causing issues.

I make it halfway back to my parent’s house before I have to pull over, because tears keep blurring my vision. In the parking lot of a fast-food taco chain, I do the only thing I can think of.

I call Nathan.

Ever since spending the night with him two weeks ago, things have been great. Work is busy, but we have lunch together every day, and he hasn’t been shy about using me when he needs me. Well, at least after we worked out a system of me wearing a specific pin to indicate whether I’m down for free use sex or not, which we should’ve had from the start. I’ve stayed at his place two more times, and each time it’s been easier and more comfortable than the last.

My gut tells me I shouldn’t bother him with this. That if I’m too needy, he’s going to get annoyed and sick of me. I push it aside because I’m trying to trust him. Trying to believe what he said about not running, even if it makes me sweat as much as sitting out in the sun did.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.” His voice is a low, smoky rumble as he answers.

“No, it’s not,” I grumble.

“It’s not?”

“I’m a mess right now.”

“What’s wrong?” I can practically hear his brow furrowing with concern.

I sigh, closing my eyes against my agitation and trying to let his voice soothe me. “Me, it turns out.”

“Care to elaborate?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, but the worry is still there.

“I had brunch with my sisters. It was an ambush to tell me I need to get my shit together and not ruin Max’s wedding.”

“Why would you ruin Max’s wedding? He’s your best friend. You’d do anything for him.”

My chest squeezes at the easy conviction in Nathan’s tone. “Because I’ve caused drama in the past. When I didn’t have a date, I hooked up with people or started orgies or⁠—”

“You started orgies?” Nathan interjects.

“Yeah, I know,” I sigh. “I’m terrible. I fuck things up, often literally. And all my romantic history is even worse. A string of shitty hookups and terrible exes and broken hearts and…” I drag in a shuddering breath as reality hits me. “Fuck, I don’t think this is going to work because the few rare times that someone actually liked me, I managed to mess it up because I needed more to sustain me.”

“More sex?” he asks cautiously.

“Yes. I’ve never had someone who was able to give me enough to keep my energy up. I had to break things off because they didn’t want me to be with anyone else and I felt like a zombie and it didn’t matter anyway because they’d eventually decide I’m a whore and not worth putting any energy into a relationship with and…”

“Samantha.” He says my name sharply, halting my rambling.

I wipe tears from my cheeks that I didn’t even realize I’d cried. “What?”