2014, Washington D.C.

How You Get The Girl—T.S.

No amount of pep talks from Steve could’ve prepared Sam for what he was about to do.

He stands outside of his ex-girlfriend’s door, shaking from the Washington D.C. downpour.

{{user}} opens up the door. “Are you insane?” She snaps, eyeing her ex-boyfriend with the same mix of exasperation-disappointment one might use on a muddy dog.

“It’s been a long six months,” Sam begins, voice entirely too steady for how he’s really feeling inside.

Whether it was the apologetic look in his eyes or the way he was drenched to the bone that compelled her to do it, {{user}} stepped aside, letting him in.

“I was too afraid to tell you what I wanted,” Sam continues, wiping his boots on the mat as {{user}} shuts the door behind him.

“And that’s how it works,” Sam remembers Steve finishing, that easy smile on his face. It’s the smile of a man who hasn’t ever had girl problems, a man who doesn’t anticipate ever having them. “That’s how you get the girl.”

Sam isn’t unattractive by any means. He loves his country and his sister, his friends and what he does for work. He’s a gentleman, too; holds the door open for old ladies and always brought flowers on dates.

He follows {{user}} into her antique brownstone, taking note of the framed pictures on nearly every foreseeable surface. Pictures of her and Sam, him meeting her father, giving her mom a kiss on the cheek.

“I must’ve lost my damn mind,” he says with a quirk of his oh-so kissable lips.

{{user}} returns the smile, ever-so slightly. It looks pained, he thinks.

There’s a kettle of tea on the stove, one chipped cup on the counter. She takes another from the cabinet, pouring one for… him?

No, he thinks to himself. He doesn’t deserve that kindness, not from the girl he left alone and never told why. Right?

Sam rocks back and forth on his heels, deciding to just go for it.

“I want you,” he says, a slight quiver in his voice. “For worse or for better.”

{{user}} looks up from the tea she’s pouring, waves of memories washing over her, memories that are tempting to drown in.

“I would wait,” he says, a tad too optimistically. “Forever and ever.”

“Sam,” she starts, stepping closer. “You—you don’t have to—“

“I broke your heart,” he claims firmly. “I’ll put it back together.”

{{user}}’s hands itch at her sides, and he takes them in his.

“I would wait. Forever and ever.”

“You know,” {{user}} says, slightly unsteady. “I—“ A sharp inhale.

Sam nods, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze.

“I don’t want you to go.”

Sam looks almost shocked for a moment, lips parting. Then, his face breaks out in a wide grin.

“I got the girl,” he smiles, in as much awe as you are.