“So I’m calling it now, because, Savvy, this shit is getting out of hand, and I know even at this point, I can handle friends. I just hope that you can, too.”
I look in the mirror and see lights behind us.
Patrick looks back then at me. “You think you can get this back to the dorm for me?”
“Yeah,” is all I can say.
“See you around, Savvy.”
Chapter 19
"It took me quite a long time to develop a voice,
and now that I have it,
I am not going to be silent."
~ Madeleine Albright
Savvy
The first week after what felt like a breakup, the only thing that changed was he stopped coming to The Bean when I worked. At school, my morning still started with him and JT talking across me, about the shit happening with the Seashore app and Tobias and the others luring JT into an underground fight. My days, he still sits beside me in the classes that he had been sitting by me previously. However, there was just no knee nudges, and I didn’t catch him staring at me. He was even still coming in once in a while to help with the plates.
The second week was the same, it was also the week of the fight. The entire school was buzzing about it. I was reading more to escape it.
After work, I come back to the dorm, and Chloe is watching an old movie, Grease. She watches it on repeat, and by the time I have to go to work again, I realize what she was doing.
“Seriously, Chloe?”
“Sandy had to become a badass; you’ve always been one. You need to fix this shit.”
“I’m busy.”
“You have no idea what busy is until you decide to take on two men.”
“Okay, I’ve been tolerating this, been quiet and accepting, but I really think maybe you should choose.”
“They love me.” She shrugs, a look of contentment replacing the cornered kitten look she normally wears. “They both said so. And you know what didn’t happen after they both said it on separate occasions?”
What drunk Patrick said about her comes front and center in my mind. “No, but if it’s going to be graphic details or make me look at any of you differently, please save it.”
She smiles. “I didn’t run, Savvy. I didn’t wonder how they could when no one else has, and I didn’t look for another hookup immediately, in fear that, at some point soon, they’d realize I’m not good enough.”
“And that’s your norm?” I ask because, seriously, I don’t normally want details, but what she just said is kind of a big realization for her.
“I know you think that men are the only ones who are driven by sex, but some of us see it as the ultimate power move, too, so yeah, I do. I’m a ho,” she says then laughs.
Then I laugh, and we laugh together until we both practically cry.
“You’re no ho, Chloe; you just needed more love than one man could give you, to help you realize you’re worth it.”
“I know I don’t have to tell you this, but it’s still new. And, as much as it was a big fuck you to society, we all want to keep it on the downlow until we’re comfortable with it.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“And, Savvy, I’m telling you to go after him. He looks miserable, and you are miserable. Life’s too short, and you know that better than most.”
* * *
Chin up, tits out. That was the way I walked into homeroom on Monday, and no, I wasn’t the first there. I was the last.
When I sat between them, I looked at Justice first. “Congratulations.”
He narrows his eyes. “He tapped out.”
I shrug. “A win is a win, even if a fight is nothing more than two men trying to see who’s bigger.”
“The fuck you just say—”
I hold my hand up in front of his face, almost touching it, like he did mine that first day. “I’m entitled to my opinion, so suck it.”
Patrick leans over and whispers, “You hang with Ziggy and Roach before school today?”
I glance over at him. He looks concerned. “Nope.”
“Huh,” is all he says.
I don’t leave the classroom as soon as the bell rings. I take my time.
Patrick and I are the last to leave. He stops and looks back at me, totally missing the fact I’m checking him out. Then he turns around in the doorway, nearly filling it, and looks down at me. “You sick again?”
I shake my head. “I feel fine.”
I grab his hand and place it on my head. “Do I feel hot?”
He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything.
I let go of his hand and duck under his arm, heading to Lit.
In Women Studies, I walk in, coffee in hand, and sit down.
He doesn’t look at me, just whisper-hisses, “Cut the shit.”
“What shit are you referring to? I’m just back to being me.” I turn and face him. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Why would I have a problem with that?”
“You seriously just hissed cut the shit to me.”
He nods. “Game on, Savvy.”
“Bring it, Tricks.”
“Consider it brought.”
The entire week, we dance around each other. If I said I didn’t like it, that would be a downright … truth.
In fact, I was so stressed that I was having a recurring dream that felt incredibly real, about Chloe and Patrick fucking at school, and me watching. If the universe was trying to tell me something, to abort mission, to stop the shit, I didn’t listen. I continued forcing myself to be in his face and not crawl into my comfort zone.
It felt fake. It was fake. It didn’t feel like us—the us I think I ruined.
But I persisted.
On Friday, I sent him a message, inviting him to Crystal Lake for a low-key party, because he told Roach and Ziggy that, although he was enjoying this game, he’d wait for an invite from me.
An hour later, I got sick of waiting, so
