The Outsider

Part 4

After my conversation with Serena, I decided it was time to leave Nate's party. The atmosphere is stifling, and I need fresh air. As I make my way toward the exit, I inadvertently bump into Samantha. She's standing near the doorway, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for someone.

"Alex!" she exclaims, a hint of surprise in her voice. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Samantha," I nod, attempting a polite smile. "Just on my way out."

"Already?" she asks, her brow furrowing. "The party's just getting started."

I shrug, trying to maintain my composure. "Not really my scene."

She looks at me for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Have you seen Serena? I was supposed to meet her here."

"She's around," I say, gesturing vaguely toward the area where I left Serena. "We were just talking."

Samantha's eyes widen slightly. "Oh? About what?"

"Just catching up," I reply, trying to keep the conversation brief. "You should go find her."

"Right," she says, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer. "So Running off so soon?" she asks, her tone playful but with an edge of sarcasm. "I didn't think you'd be the type to leave the party early."

"I'm not exactly in the mood for Nate's circus," I reply flatly, hoping that would be enough to end the conversation.

She eyes me for a moment, her gaze sharper than I'd like. Samantha's always been one to pry, never afraid to dig into what others are thinking. She's not like Serena, though—her arrogance is quieter, more strategic.

"Right," she says, crossing her arms. "You don't strike me as the party type. So what's your excuse tonight?"

"Do I need one?" I ask, growing impatient.

She smirks, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "I guess not. But still, running out on your friends? On Serena?"

The mention of Serena sends a flicker of something through me, but I suppress it. "Serena doesn't need me," I say, keeping my voice cold.

Samantha tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she's trying to read something deeper in me. "Doesn't she?"

Her question hangs in the air, challenging me. But I'm not in the mood for her games. Whatever Samantha's fishing for, I'm not biting.

"Look, I'm just done with this place," I say, sidestepping her. "I need some air."

"Suit yourself," she replies, her voice trailing after me as I make my way to the door. "But don't pretend you're above all this, Alex. You're just as caught up in it as the rest of us."

Samantha wasn't always so clingy, but it was like something in her snap when she realized she was stuck on Staten Island. That place, to her, was a prison she was desperate to escape. For as long as I've known her, she's had this obsession with getting out, with leaving it all behind. And in her mind, the only way to do that was to attach herself to anyone who could help her climb up and out. She wasn't malicious, just shallow. Most of her thoughts revolved around how to escape her suffocating life rather than any real depth of character.

We first met during freshman year. She had latched onto me, or maybe I let her, I'm not even sure anymore. At first, she seemed like your typical college student: eager, hopeful, trying to make friends. But it didn't take long to see what she was really about. Samantha was the type who couldn't stand being alone. She always needed to be around people, not because she cared about them but because she feared being left behind. She floated from group to group, sticking like glue to anyone she thought could give her an edge.