The date night felt incredible for Sam. Getting to know Ray seemed like a new favorite thing to her. Her feelings for him still scared her, though.

She met him two weeks ago, but it felt like she knew him much longer than that. Maybe because in those two weeks, they saw each other often, or perhaps because he came into Sam's life during this hectic time. Ray's openness felt very unfamiliar to her.

She packed for the trip, even though they had a week left until the tour. Sam liked to be prepared in advance. Going through her wardrobe led Samantha to find her journal. Michael gave her that journal. It was just a folder in which she could put any notebook. Brown leather cover with the family crest and her name below it.

It has been a while since she wrote there. Sam didn't consider the notebook as a diary since she didn't write there every day. She would write when she felt overwhelmed. The last entry was when Michael died, and he passed away six months ago. Sam's writing seemed a bit dark there, so she decided to change the mood of her journal and write about Raymond.

After an hour of writing pleasant stuff about her life, her story took a turn, and she ended up writing about Scott. And unfortunately, this entry also ended with gloomy thoughts. Am I even capable of seeing the bright side of life? Who knew? She certainly didn't.

Raymond and she decided to visit Molly's place to hang out that evening. Molly and Mason planned to pack their apartment the next day, and before that, they agreed to have the game night. Molly wanted to talk with Ray in a less stressful setting. They communicated a bit, but Molly mostly knew about Ray from what Sam told her. But before the game night, Sam had to face her other friend.

She thought about Scott for the last couple of days more than usual. He texted her, saying he came back to Los Angeles even though he didn't leave his apartment, according to Paul.

Scott invited her for lunch, and Sam planned to decline his proposal. But Paul asked her to go, as it seemed an excellent opportunity for his team to get into Scott's apartment. The detective didn't specify the purpose of that, but Paul assured her, she would be safe. She wasn't scared of Scott, but she felt very uncomfortable around him.

They agreed to meet at Starbucks on Wilshire Boulevard. That was ten minutes away from Sam's apartment. They often hang out there during their university years. There you can eat outside, and the weather appeared great for meals outdoors. And even though many people told Sam to stop going there she didn't, for her, food and coffee remained always tasty, and the staff acted friendly enough. Sometimes the place looked messy, but that was mostly during rush hours, so that seemed understandable.

After a quick walk, Sam reached the coffee shop and looked around. A few people sat outside, having their meal. None of them were Scott. Therefore, she moved into the building while trying to find him, but couldn't detect him anywhere. So Sam decided to order some food and coffee.

The interior of the establishment possessed white and brown shades with bricks and some metal details. There stood booths on each side of the room and in the middle singular tables with chairs. The counters stayed at the back of the room. The menus hung above them, and a part of the kitchen appeared visible behind the bar. On the left wall hung a big flatscreen, showing a daytime program.

She ordered coffee and a sandwich and traveled toward the exit door. She felt forced to stop as someone grabbed her elbow from behind, just before she reached the outside door. Sam turned around to see who touched her.

"Oh, hi," she said, surprised. Sam shouldn't feel surprised to see him, after all, she came here to meet him, but the way he looked threw her out of balance.

"Hey," Scott said with a smile, hugging her.

"I didn't see you, do you want to order something?" Sam asked. Scott lifted his coffee cup, showing he had his order already. "Oh, okay then, can we go sit outside?" she proposed, observing him. What is with his hair?

"Yes, of course," he said. He seemed in a pleasant mood. His voice sounded joyful, and he kept smiling at her.

They went outside, there stood a few empty tables by the building's wall. But Sam chose the one which remained further away with a green umbrella above. So she could study the view of the street. They rested down, sitting across from each other.

"So, what's new?" Scott asked and lifted his chin in a quick motion.

"Nothing much," she replied, tasting the sandwich. "Aren't you hungry?" Sam asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I came here a bit early, so now just a coffee left. And you are late. No surprise there," Scott said, lifting his coffee cup.

"How was Chicago?" Sam asked, trying to occupy him.

"My dad got sick, so I went to visit him," he replied, sipping the coffee.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is your dad okay now?" The sandwich wasn't tasty, so she consumed just a few bites.

"Yeah, he's fine. What have you been up to?" Scott asked, scratching his chin.

"As I said, nothing much," Sam answered and sipped the coffee. "I'm leaving Los Angeles in a week."

"Where to?" He leaned closer to her, placing his elbows on the table.

"A few places actually, mostly Europe," Sam said and withered her shoulders. "As you know, I planned to travel for a while now."

"Alone?" he asked, pointing to her meal. "Are you going to eat that?"

"No, you can have it if you want," she said. "I am going alone. Molly is moving to Vancouver, so I'm left alone."

"I could come. If you want some company?" He took a bite of her sandwich.

"That's a kind offer—really, but I want to spend some time alone." It felt difficult to lie to Scott for Sam, even knowing about his uncanny habit.

"Aren't you always alone?" Scott asked, chewing the sandwich.

"What happened to your hair, Scott?" Sam asked, diverting the topic.

"My cousin dyed it for me. Do you like it?" He smirked, brushing his hair with his fingers.

"I'm not sure—it's pitch black." He didn't look right, but she couldn't tell him that. "You just look different, that's all."

"I went to the game—"

At that moment Sam tuned out Scott. She observed the street. She would be a magnificent dancer. Samantha thought, noticing a girl with long legs and short black hair, she was starting to create a story about the girl, but suddenly her thoughts got interrupted.

"—Sam!"

"What?" she asked and turned her sight back to Scott.

"You're doing it again," he explained and grinned.

"Sorry, you talked about sport, you know I tune out sometimes." She flinched her shoulders.

Samantha had an awful habit of tuning out people. It started when she was a teenager. Usually, she would pretend she was listening, while her parents scolded her. But in her mind, she would sing songs or create stories. Her grandfather had the same habit, and that seemed to be one of the reasons Michael thought she could pursue a writing career.

"So you and Ray, that didn't happen. Right?" Scott asked.

"What do you mean?" she replied and wrinkled her forehead.

"Well, you brought him to the club. So I assumed that something was happening between you two." He leaned closer to her, raising his eyebrow.

"We are friends, nothing much more." Sam leaned back until her backbone reached the backrest of the chair, intertwining her hands on her chest.

Sam wasn't used to lying, her tactics usually involved obviating the truth, if that felt more acceptable. Paul gave her tips on how to handle conversations with Scott. Per the detective's suggestion, she should avoid some topics, or if that seemed unavoidable, she should create a believable lie. And it felt harder to keep lying to him.

"Oh, I thought you liked him," he said, appearing more relaxed.

"He is nice, but I'm not looking for anything right now," Sam reminded him. She had been telling Scott that since Jason and she broke up.

"Tom troubles?" He half-smiled.

"No—Tom and I are over," she explained. It felt like old times for Sam, talking to him about everything. Did he see Tom vising me?

"For real this time?" Scott asked.

"Hopefully, yeah," she said. They finished their beverages and walked toward home, continuing the chat.

"Are you going to the gym tomorrow?" Scott asked, tilting his head.

Shit, tomorrow is Monday. "Yes, of course," she replied. Sam's voice sounded chipper than she intended it to be.

"Maybe we could go later in the day?" Scott asked as Sam glanced at him. "I have a date tonight."

"That's great," Sam said, patting his shoulder. "I can't go later than ten a.m., though," Scott looked at her, lifting his chin in a quick motion. "If I want to have a good workout. Since later I have a conference call with Marcy and others about the book."

"Right, I forgot. When is the book coming out again?" Scott asked, delighted.

"Next month. So with whom are you going on a date?" Sam asked and smiled. In moments like this, she could forget who he really was. Just for a split second, Scott would be her best friend again.

"With Poppy, Daisy's sister," he replied in an appeased tone.

"Didn't you sleep with her at that Christmas party?" Samantha asked, carrying too many questions on her mind. Did he lie about that too? He clearly didn't want me to talk about Poppy when we were at the club.

"Yeah, I think that night is a blur for both of us," he replied with a chuckle. "You should also come," Scott suggested.

"You are going on a date. Why would I come with you?" Sam asked, confused. Is Ray right? Is Scott trying to make me jealous?

"Daisy and Emeth also will be there—and Rory, it's a group hangout," he explained

So why did he say it's a date? She looked at him, holding her eyebrows in a furrow.

"Right," she said. "You know I try to spend as little time as possible with Rory, maybe I will join you guys next time." They almost reached their street. and Sam felt relief taking over her mind.

"Still mad about Molly?" Scott asked, mockingly. "That's ancient history at this point. She is happy with Mason. So why do you still avoid Rory?" He crumpled his eyebrows.

"I don't like him, and I didn't like him before he slept with Molly," she repeated. He knew that already, but since Rory was his friend, Scott often would try to convince Sam that she should be friends with Rory too.

"You are weird, Sam," Scott stated as Sam glanced at him. "I mean, you hang out with a guy you barely know, but can't possibly spend one evening with Rory, who you know for at least three years."

So he saw Ray coming to my house. "Who are you talking about?" she asked, playing dumb. Sam stopped and twirled toward Scott.

"About Ray—" Confusion settled in his eyes. "I met him the other day, leaving your building," Scott explained.

"Weren't you in Chicago that day?" She squinted her eyes.

"I saw—him that day—when I got back." Scott's speech remained choppy. "I mean that—that's why I saw him, I was returning to my flat." He puffed.

"Oh, right?" She agreed.

What I'm supposed to tell him? It seemed clear he watched her building. Sam felt certain Ray would tell her if he met Scott while visiting her. He didn't mention Scott, therefore she guessed Scott lied to cover his tracks.

"So, are you coming?" Scott asked as they moved again.

"No. I'm hanging out with Molly before she leaves. You understand, right?" she asked in a questionable tone. Why does my voice sound so weird?

"Yeah, I understand," he agreed, defeated. "If I came back early from the club, then we can go to the gym tomorrow morning," Scott suggested.

"That sounds good," she agreed with a nod.

They reach their street. Sam's apartment building was held on the right side of the Avenue, Scott's on the left one. They stopped on the right side of the street. Hugged and said their goodbyes. Scott went across the street. As Sam stood on the sidewalk for a few minutes, trying to digest everything he said. One thing especially raised her question: Why the fuck did he dye his hair black?