Sam's thoughts swirled as she sipped on a cocktail. Deep down she knew Molly was right, or at least to some extent. Samantha and Molly had a long past. They grew up in New York, went to the same private school, and the girls have been neighbors as long as both of them could remember. So they were more like a family.

They both moved to Los Angeles when they were eighteen, went to university, and remained roommates for three years. Samantha's father bought her a two-bedroom apartment before moving to a new town, so Molly moved in with her.

At that moment, Molly's parents still had their wealth. Unfortunately, they lost their fortune a few months ago, through some poor investments Mister Fleming made. Leaving Molly without financial backup and forcing her to find a part-time job.

Molly always depended on her dad's money, and transitioning from rich to the working class stayed hard for her. Molly moved out of Sam's apartment around a year ago. Molly and Mason got seriously involved. The past year was very different for the girls. The Fleming family lost their wealth, and Samantha became a millionaire. Molly felt it wasn't fair, and perhaps that was partially true.

Samantha sat on a porch, her legs tucked underneath her. A slight breeze passed through the backyard, forcing trees in front of her to sway and make shadows on the freshly cut grass.

She mixed cocktails, drinking alone, reminiscing about what Molly said. Since she graduated, she has done nothing, spending her time watching The Office and having a Johnny Depp movies marathon. In theory, she didn't have to work. And despite inheriting a fortune, the year felt difficult for her.

She planned to travel, and she wanted to visit Europe. Samantha and Molly had a plan to travel last summer, but Sam had to stay in New York. She could travel now, but she felt scared Molly would be even madder. Even though Molly went to Italy and France this summer and didn't wait for Sam.

"Why are you sitting here all alone in the dark?" She was so focused on her reflections, she didn't hear him come out. He sat down beside her on the porch stairs with his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets.

"I am not alone. Morgan is keeping me company," she answered, raising a bottle of rum.

"Scott is looking for you," Ray said, leaning toward his knees.

"I know." She lifted her phone, revealing Scott was calling. She declined three calls from him and put her phone on silent mode. Molly got into her head, telling her that Scott was more than a friend, and the possible rumors about them didn't help either.

"Are you okay? You seem upset." Ray tilted his head to look at her.

"I got into a fight with Molly, not a fight, more like an argument. She said some hurtful words," she explained.

Why am I telling him this? It wasn't like her to tell a stranger's very personal things, she blamed the booze. By now all that remained was rum, she swallowed more of the drink and offered him a bottle. To her surprise, he took a gulp.

"Who's Molly?" Raymond asked.

"My best friend," she answered, glancing at him.

"That blonde girl you spoke to earlier in the kitchen?" he asked and Sam nodded in response. "Why did you girls fight?" He took another sip of the drink before giving her a bottle.

"It's stupid, but sometimes I take some words too seriously and rethink my life." She grinned at him as he smiled back, gazing into her eyes.

She felt awkward, sitting and talking to a vocalist of her favorite band would be a dream come true to some people. She felt slightly differently, the awkwardness rose from talking to a stranger.

She scanned him, he was good-looking, tall, not too muscular, more on the skinny side. She realized she liked his appearance. But she knew he had a girlfriend. She noticed some photos on Instagram a while ago. Fans said Raymond doesn't post recent pictures with his girlfriend.

Maybe they broke up? I shouldn't speculate, and I should stop looking at him like that. So should he. She spun away, observing the garden instead as naughty thoughts about him crept in.

"And Scott? Why are you avoiding him?" he asked, making her giggle vigorously. "I'm guessing you remembered the whole Scott has a boyfriend thing?" He also chuckled.

"Yeah. How often does that happen?" she asked with wild laughter.

"He said, my Sam is a big fan of your music. The conversation went on, and my bandmates and I thought he was talking about a guy. We don't know each other well, to be honest," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Then we agreed to perform, that's how our band ended up here." He glanced at her.

His story made Sam stop giggling. "My Sam?" she questioned, confused.

"That's why I thought he meant a guy, I know a man named Sam," he explained and shrugged his shoulders. "This is one of those names which fit both genders. I'm not quick to make assumptions about anyone. People love who they want. Right?"

"That sounds reasonable, and I'm the same way," She sipped the drink. "I'm assuming he was talking about me. So did he use the word lover when talking about me?" She quoted him, putting a bottle to her lips.

"Maybe not directly, but from all our chats, I assumed he was talking about the person he's dating now. You are his girlfriend, right?" Ray lifted his eyebrow as Sam offered him a bottle.

"I am his friend, and I'm a girl, that's it," she explained, watching him gulp the rum.

"Really?" His smile seemed so full it surprised Samantha. "So you're single?" He raised his eyebrow, and a soft smile still played on his face.

"At the moment, yes," she answered with a nod.

She didn't have the guts to ask him about his relationship status. They talked for a while, slowly emptying the bottle of rum. She found Ray intriguing and he seemed different from anyone she met before.

After a while, Ray gave her his jacket because it got chilly. The leather jacket soothed her back, but the asymmetrical zipper kept jiggling. She didn't zip it because it felt too snug for her. By the time they ended all the booze, it was around two o'clock in the morning.

"I should go home, it's late," she declared, standing up and losing her balance for a moment. "I think, I will walk."

"Do you live near here?" Ray asked with a frown on his forehead.

"It's not far away," she answered, opening the doorway to the house.

She traveled into the residence since the backyard had a tall fence, she had to travel through the house to reach the street. People seemed tipsy and music blasted from the stereo in the living room.

Sam noticed Scott lingered and talked to some blond girl, Sam believed her name was Daisy, but she felt unsure. Sam avoided Scott and reached the front door, bypassing the dancing crowd.

"I will escort you home," Ray said as they reached the street.

"Did you just follow me?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

His dark eyes seemed wide. "I thought, you knew I was walking behind you,"

"I did," she answered with a smile.

"So," He traveled closer to her. "Can I walk you back home?" he asked, again. She planned to refuse, but before she could, he gave her an undeniable argument. "You're drunk, and it's the middle of the night. You could get hurt or something."

"Right, because walking home with a stranger is better," she said, rolling her eyes.

She felt buzzed, who wouldn't be? So Samantha agreed with his suggestion, and soon they left Rory's house. They walked in silence for five minutes. She had to admit, walking with him felt much safer. The street was poorly lit and most of the surrounding houses stayed dark.

"So how did you become a singer?" Samantha asked, breaking an awkward silence.

"I thought you liked my band." He furrowed his eyebrows.

"I do." She glanced at him. "But I really don't know."

"How is that possible?" Ray asked.

"I like a lot of bands." Sam tucked her loose hair behind her right ear. "It doesn't mean, I know about them a lot," she continued as they passed the parking lot. "I'm more into music and the message the artist tries to say rather than into band members if that makes sense." She shrugged her shoulders.

"It does." He laughed. "It's surprisingly nice. Everyone knows everything," he explained. "So no one asks anymore."

"Still didn't answer my question," she stated with a smile.

"Right." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I was a guitarist first. We started the band back in high school. Just a group of friends making music in my mom's garage." He laughed.

"You had a different vocalist?" Samantha asked.

"Yeah." He gulped. "Not for long, just a year, and I took his spot later on."

She wanted to ask more, but Ray seemed upset by her last question. Instead, she decided to divert the topic, hoping it would fix the expression on his face.

"So, what is your favorite band?" Sam asked.

"Nirvana," he answered quickly.

"I like them too." She smiled.

They talked more on the walk, trying to find more common things they liked. Raymond told her about some tours he and his band did in Europe and America. She felt more and more fascinated by him.

Ray seemed so free, she thought. His lifestyle seemed interesting, it's mostly music and traveling, something Samantha loved as well. The walk wasn't long since they took a few shortcuts and it took around half an hour for them to reach her apartment building. Raymond insisted on accompanying her to the door. They rode the elevator in silence and it felt awkward once more. Sam relaxed as they got off on the second floor.

Her apartment building stayed neat with some gray shades, there were three suites on the second floor, including hers. Her apartment door also held gray and had some black ornaments. They reached her door, and she looked for the keys in her backpack.

"Found it," she said and smiled, raising her bundle of keys. "Thank you for walking me home, I feel safer already." Ray seemed amused by her statement. "It was nice to meet you," she added, feeling unsure of what else to say.

"You are an interesting woman, do you know that?"

"Okay, so bye," she said. Sam wanted to go inside immediately without answering his question.

All the attention he gave her tonight, some genuine conversations. She felt tipsy, and she had a lousy intuition about flirting with men. But she thought he might like her, and she tried to ignore how hot he was, but it was getting harder to dismiss her feelings toward him.

"Bye?" he said in a questionable tone. She nodded, and he turned around and walked toward the elevator.

"Raymond!" she shouted as he was halfway through the walk. Ray turned back and walked back toward her. "You forgot your jacket." She handed him his coat, and he stared into her eyes for a moment.

He quickly leaned and kissed her, and a hot stream traveled through her body. For a second, she enjoyed the kiss. His lips felt soft and warm, his eyes held closed. He smelled nice, and everything felt right, but just for a moment. Before the kiss turned to anything more than a peck, she put her hand on his chest and pushed away from him, he appeared startled.

"You have a girlfriend," she said, "I don't kiss occupied men."

She swiftly went into her flat, shaking her head, and closing the door. Perhaps she had a wrong expression about him. He seemed nice and friendly. But she felt sure he had a girlfriend. She hated labels, and people often labeled rock singers as a lot of things. Sleeping around even if they had a partner was one of those labels. Sam immediately thought about Tom.

Why is it that every time I kiss someone new I think about my ex-boyfriend? She questioned herself, leaning against the apartment door. Her breathing held unsteady from the excitement, it's been a long time since she kissed someone.

Five minutes later, she heard the ringer of the elevator. And just then, she could breathe normally. She felt relieved the evening was over and she was at home.