You've Found Oliver (You've Reached Sam, #2)
Dustin Thao
For Alex Aster & Chloe Gong,
who showed up to the wrong restaurant
and inspired this story
“The imagination separates us from the past
as well as from reality; it faces the future.”
—Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space
Prologue
Before
After all this time, I still think about him.
It feels like yesterday when he was here. Sunlight flickers through the branches as I open my eyes. I’m lying out in the grass, hands resting on my stomach. A few petals fall from the sky as I turn my head slowly. Sam is sitting there beside me with a notebook in his lap. And suddenly, it’s the spring of freshman year again.
“Enjoy your nap?” he asks.
I close my eyes again. “I wasn’t napping.”
“Oh, really?”
“I’m just resting my eyes.”
“For forty minutes? Well, the snoring was a nice touch.”
“Forty minutes?” I blink at him. “Jesus, why didn’t you wake me up?”
“I thought you were resting your eyes,” Sam says, smirking a little. He pushes himself up, setting his pencil on the grass. “I actually just lost track of time. Had to finish my drawing.” A breeze comes, gently ruffling his dark hair. I could lie out here all day, watching him. “It’s looking pretty good, too.”
“What about the math assignment?”
He winces. “I forgot about that…”
“Sam, it’s due tomorrow! Who am I supposed to copy off?”
“You don’t want to see my drawing?” He glances at me. “It’s of you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Show me…”
Sam hands me his notebook. There’s a sketch of me, lying in the grass with one hand behind my head, surrounded by flowers. I’ve never had anyone draw me before.
“I’m not the best at shadows,” he says.
“You did this while I was sleeping?”
“You can tell me if you hate it.”
“I mean, it’s not bad.” I point at myself in the drawing. “But you got the arms wrong. My muscles are much more defined.”
Sam rubs his chin. “I knew something was off…”
We both laugh. I hand him back the notebook. “I like the flowers you added. Roses, right?”
“White roses. Those are my favorite.”
“Mine too,” I say. To be honest, I didn’t have a favorite flower before. But that’s what it is now.
“You know what I’ve been thinking about?” says Sam. “Guys don’t get enough flowers.”
“Agreed. Society needs to change.”
Sam smiles. There’s a silence before he says, “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Who’s Zach?”
The name catches me by surprise. How does he know about Zach?
Sam glances at my phone, which is between us. “Sorry, I noticed he texted you a few times.”
“He’s a friend,” I say, vaguely.
“How come we haven’t met yet?”
“He lives all the way in Redmond.” It’s another small town in Washington, right outside of Seattle, about an hour and a half away from Ellensburg.
“Cool. How long have you known him?”
I run my hand over the grass, not wanting to answer. “I don’t know. Not that long.” We’ve only been talking for a few weeks. I haven’t even met him in person yet. And I’m too embarrassed to mention this. Especially when I’m not exactly out at school yet.
“You know you can tell me anything,” he says.
I hesitate. Sam and I have been best friends since seventh grade. We know pretty much everything about each other. But there are a few things I’m not ready to share yet. “I know…” is all I say.
Sam offers another smile. Then he stares out at the lake. “The water looks nice today,” he says, changing the subject for me. “Maybe we should go for a swim.”
I scoff. “And put off our homework?”
He lets out a breath. “You’re right. We have to be responsible.”
We both narrow our eyes, looking at each other. There’s this game we play sometimes. I wait for the smirk to rise on Sam’s face, and then we both jump to our feet. The next thing I know, we’re racing toward the dock, shirts thrown behind us. The second we crash into the water, everything around us vanishes as the memory changes…
* * *
Dress shoes slap on marble floors of the hotel lobby. Sam and I are standing outside the ballroom, wearing button-up shirts and bow ties. Music pours out through the double doors as Sam sticks his head in and says, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We get arrested.”
“For crashing a wedding?”
Sam sighs. “I don’t know how you talk me into this stuff.”
It’s the fall of sophomore year. The Sagamore is the nicest hotel in Ellensburg. We’ve walked past it a hundred times and joked about sneaking in someday. To be completely honest, I never thought we’d actually do it, but here we are. I clasp Sam’s shoulders and say, “We’ll go in, grab a slice of cake, and go. Maybe a drink or two. No one will ever know we were here.”