âYou always look like that,â Sam answered naturally with a dreamy sort of look in his smiling eyes, not even thinking before the words left his mouth, and then he paused for half of a second to shake his head slightly once heâd realized what heâd said. âI meanâ Not to say that you donât look really nice tonight, or that your effort isnât noticed, I just meanââ he stumbled for a bit, an awkward hand gesturing to her extravagant gown and perfect makeup and glimmering flowers adorning her hair. After a moment, he seemed to regain some composure, anxious expression softening as he came back to gaze at her own face, as lovely as heâd ever seen it. âYou look beautiful tonight, I just mean that⌠I donât know, I think youâve always looked that way,â he finished, and he knew the words were going to come out anyway, that he couldnât help it though heâd tried. He only hoped she wouldnât read too much into them, that sheâd allow a friend to call her beautiful and not think too hard on the way he couldnât say it without staring perfectly into her eyes, without a gentle smile, without his hand inching towards her before bringing it back to his side. She was as beautiful to him now as she had been every day walking Gallagherâs halls, or caught off guard in the sunlight of the forest, or even with heartbreaking tears glinting off of her cheeks. Sam told himself to commit this image of her to his memory, too, scared it would be one of his last chances.
That unrecognizable sort of expression on her face seemed to fade, replaced by the more typical Martina style of blithe eyes and angelic smile and while he answered her, he tried to watch her face as her head turned in Kikiâs direction, more interested in her thoughts behind her expression, looking at her to make sure everything was alright, or catch what maybe wasnât. He was just making conversation with her, prepared to say anything to keep her in his company longer, but he noticed belatedly that she seemed pretty hung up on his answers, he just wasnât sure why. It was harder to focus and figure it out when he felt the slight tug of pressure of Martinaâs delicate grasp on the edge of his cuffs, her hand so close to his, so easy to turn his own palm into hers, but he kept it where it was, devastatingly polite. His attention came back to the conversation when she spoke up again, peculiar questions on her lips, his brow creasing a bit as he tried to understand, studying her face again. You really like her, huh? Samâs heart skipped a painfully nervous beat, fearing for a millisecond that sheâd figured it out, that he couldnât hide the heart he always wore on his sleeve, and it was all too obvious the way he felt about her. He almost said it just thenâ Yes. He wanted to blurt it as he looked at her, at Martina Washington. But then he noticed how she was still looking at Kiki and he finally put the pieces together, a contradicting sigh of relief and disappointment leaving him. âKiki? No, no, I mean. I like her as a friend just fine, but itâs not⌠like that,â Sam answered with a sheepish sort of chuckle, âJust friends, honest.â He didnât know why he would try so hard to make sure Martina knew when he didnât think it would make a difference between them, but a part of him had to anyway.
She gave him that light-hearted air again, but Sam seemed pick up on the way she just wasnât herself, not fully. She was lovely, and cheerful, and bright, but she wasnât shining the same way she did before, like she was dulling some part of herself, only he didnât know why. He tried to hide his concern, and wondered if he was imagining it, if it was okay to ask whether or not she was alright, if it was even his place anymore. âI guess weâve just been missing each other all night,â he said with a slight laugh, and couldnât help but think of the way he might be missing her for even longer, and how maybe he could change that if he just took her hand that still lingered by his. His laugh bubbled into a brighter one as she went on, nodding in agreement about the party, sharing in the happiness at everyone elseâs happiness, and when her stance faltered even just that little bit, it was instinct for him to reach for her, that same hand now steadied at her elbow, soft touch against her smooth skin. He now more in tune with her expression, her somber mood as she looked around the ballroom. Sam only smiled in return at her question, feeling like that was enough. What about you? What about him, what did he matter when all he cared about now was her, when something in his chest longed for her, wanting nothing more than to pull her close to him, to tell her? But with that desire came apprehension, a foreboding sadness that slipped in just in time, just as she finally answered him too, first with that slow nod, and then the confirmation of the words he was dreading. Sam could feel his heart sink in his ribcage. It hung in the air between them for a moment before he nodded with a sad smile, eyes wistful, but he mustered up that grin just for her. âThatâs⌠thatâs really too bad,â Sam said finally, finding it hard to get words out when a tight hand seemed to squeeze at his chest and his throat, but he tried to remind himself that this wasnât about him, and he couldnât let her feel regret or guilt on his behalf. He would have to carry those on his own. âIâm happy for you, you know. Anything you choose, Iâll always be happy for you, I hope you know that,â he told her, voice quiet, sentimental as he looked at her. âBut I reallyâŚâ He felt himself falter, throat ache again as he blinked a few times and tried again. âI really will miss you, Martina,â Sam said. If Martina gave him years or days, heâd relish in every last second, grateful for every moment she gifted him.
A delicate crease dips between her brows, but a little confusion doesnât dull the light shining in her eyes. Martina waits patiently for him to find his pace, leaning forward on her tiptoes so she doesnât miss a word, diving into a guess when he gestures to all of her. â...Mean you like my dress?â she offers, nose scrunching, as she lands back on her heels. Always? It canât be right for him to think that she looks like this all the time. Even Martinaâs exquisite cuteness has a baseline and, like, heâs actually witnessed her at those record lows. However, the kindness to pretend that he hasnât is totally appreciated and she accepts the compliment with tinged cheeks underneath long tresses of her hair. Holding his gaze flips her stomach â sheâs dressed as an angel but for the first time in her life she distinctly doesnât feel like one. She could never hope to have her halo glow as bright as Samâs. Martina basks in its warmth, smiling in return, before lowering her eyes to the floor and exhaling out her fresh wave of nerves with a shy laugh. âOh, hush,â she says simply, and for the first time tonight, she meant it. Itâs hard to tell, though, because her smile widens. She canât help it. âWhen will you let me compliment you for a change?â Martina teases. âIâm running out of ways to tell you how beautiful you are.â
Consumed by her own thoughts, any trace of red under Martinaâs skin should turn green to match the toiling feeling of envy. She doesnât feel him watching her as she transforms from a saint to a green-eyed goblin internally, but Martina catches the creature that almost masquerades as her, wearing her hair and skin and dress that Sam thinks is beautiful, shoos it back to its cage and drives a key into the lock. Sam doesnât owe her any explanation for asking someone else to the dance, a lot of her friends arrived to this party with dates. But, like, she doesnât know, it feels wrong for Sam to ask someone else, to have someone shinier and smarter in the picture when it is supposed to be a portrait of the just two of them. As her hand gently curls a touch tighter on his cuffs for balance, pads of her fingers skimming warm skin, they study each other. For a moment, Martina notices that Sam looks caught, which speeds up how her heart thumps in her chest; the green-eyed goblin inside of her senses an opportunity to escape. Martina blinks rapidly, preparing herself for the inevitable yes, he really likes her, unaware of her advantage being so close to the heart on his sleeve. At least, she reasons, she wonât spend time in the future wondering how Sam looks when heâs in love; sheâll see it for herself before she sees less and less of him. âFriends?â It slips out too eagerly, feathery with disbelief. Relief floods Martina, washing away the green-eyed goblin. Martina almost lets it fill her mouth and spill in a laugh, but she nibbles at her lips so her smile doesnât budge. It's totally rude to celebrate two people being just friends, honest. Loudly, anyway. âOh, like friends!â Said with the same verve of oh, like dates! that she said moments prior. âRight, totally, friends are, like, so important to create memories with. I â I thought you two were, like, a thing. You guys are just so matchy-matchy and would be soooo gorg together,â she rambles, unable to be anything but earnest. Martina stops herself from asking if thereâs anyone, preferably in the room, who he isnât just friends with, because â  âItâs totally not my business, you can date who you want, obviously, butâŚ.â Her frenzy slows, whatâs she even saying? Martina allows herself a cleansing breath, her imagination pausing its projection of fake scenarios and alternate endings and vivid stories, as she lets herself focus on whatâs in front of her. âI donât know, Iâm glad Iâm not keeping you from someone or anything,â she admits. âThat I get to, like, have a moment with you and really see you before...you know, you know?â
Her time at Gallagher is defined with goodbyes, beginning with the most heartbreaking one of taking Big Momma away. Tonight, sheâs telling all of her friends goodbye, telling all of people who she thought were her friends goodbye, too, in a different way. Telling Sam goodbye for a long time is something that she planned on crossing off her to-do list but itâs actually going through with it that was going to be hard. Samâs laughter distracted her from the task, encouraging her to do what sheâs good at and keep talking, but it was unavoidable. Time slowly descended over them, moulding around them, like a deep blue blanket. Though he grinned through her confirmation, Martina is an expert in faking smiles for other people. Her eyes linger on his face, the curl of his grin more limp than the sunny smiles he always seems to shine on her. âI know.â Martina says the words so quietly that they may have been swept away by the other sounds surrounding them. In her heart, she knows all of these things â that heâs happy for her, that heâll always support her choices, and, both best and worst of all, that heâll miss her. They became so close over the past few months and, well, Sam knew a lot about her that other people didnât know. So far, heâs one of the two people that sheâs faced tonight who know that sheâs leaving. Forrealsies. âIâll miss you too, Sam. I...I donât think I would have been strong enough to decide to do it without you.â Her hand finally begins to inch down his sleeve, the faintest brush of Martinaâs fingertips stroking the plush curve of his palm. She doesnât break eye contact though she wants to flinch away from the hurt in his expression. There is no way for him to carry it alone when sheâs responsible for causing it. âItâs not, like, forever. You can always come visit me in Miami. We can FaceTime. If you give me an address Iâll write you like a thousand letters. Your mailman will get his steps in,â Martina rushes, though her palm drags slowly across Samâs, as if to distract him from what heâs doing. One finger at a time, Martina intertwines her fingers through his. âAnd Iâll even come back for your graduation next year.â Thereâs so much of his life that sheâs going to miss. Her own throat begins to close, vision glistening and burning. âWhoeverâs in the back cheering for you the loudest â thatâs me.â