Maybe Bold Lily could, for the first time in her life, attempt to make an appearance outside of The Moonlight Café. In broad daylight, at least once.

I thought about—for perhaps the hundredth time that week—what it had felt like to sing “Jolene” with Sam, how much raw joy had filled my veins.

Go for it, Lily.

It was what Dolly would do.

10

Lily & Sam

The following Tuesday, I stood in front of a plain wooden door and took a deep breath. And then another. I stared at the placard in the window: Sam Bell. The letters made shivers run down my arms. So they hadn’t been a figment of my imagination. Good to know.

The whole time I’d been walking through the halls, up the stairs here to the third floor, I’d expected someone to stop me, tell me I didn’t belong. But no one had even looked at me. And now I was here.

And I was terrified.

Okay. Okay. I was doing this.

I brought my hand up, made a fist, practiced. I wanted it to sound strong.

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNO—

The door opened before I’d even finished my practiced number of knocks, my knuckles suspended in midair.

“Hey Eric, did you for—”

Sam’s mouth hung open, their eyes widening as they took me in. Realized I wasn’t Eric. My breath got stuck in my throat.

“Lily?”

I barreled inside before I could lose my nerve.

I dumped the bag in my hand into the empty chair in the corner, the only seat other than the one at their desk. There was barely enough room in here for us both to stand; if someone actually sat in that empty chair while Sam sat at theirs, their knees would knock together. Coming to office hours as a student must have been terrifying.

Even when you weren’t about to make a potential romantic catastrophe out of yourself.

“Hi,” I said, turning around to finally look at them.

And oh. Oh.

I had been so preoccupied the last several days working on what I’d brought here today, practicing what I was going to say, convincing myself I could do this at all. Focused on the task at hand. I always liked having a project.

But now that Sam was actually in front of me, everything came rushing back.

The first moment our eyes locked across the room at Moonie’s. Their hand on my knee under the table. Shoving them against the wall in the parking lot. Their mouth on my earlobe, their mouth on my back. Their mouth on my clit. How it felt when they finally pounded into me, over and over and over, so full and right.

I had expected their office to be sterile. A cubicle, maybe. But the only light in the room emanated from a lamp on Sam’s desk, casting everything—casting Sam—in a warm, golden glow.