slightly altered circumstances. Same girl, same gin, same flirting in the hallway, same laughing and pulling him into my room—different guy.
Except Sam is actually very quiet and awkward. Our conversation has no flow. It feels like he’s the first guest at my party, trying to politely keep up a conversation while silently cursing himself for ever leaving his couch.
This goes on for over two hours. Sitting three feet away from him on the edge of the bed, I realize that I would rather be alone in my tiny shitty apartment eating a quesadilla and watching YouTube videos than continue to make small talk with this stranger.