“I know who I am.”
He smiles, and it’s … dazzling. “I’d love to hear all about who you are.”
“Look, asshole,” I huff, “I’m not a cause, or a case. I don’t need your daddy’s money, or invites to holiday meals, or—”
“Straight up, it’s not that deep, Savannah. I look for three things in a friend: honesty, trustworthiness, and loyalty.”
“I am not trying to be your friend.”
“Well, that’s going to make me try to make you mine a bit harder, but I’m not one to shy away from doing the work when it comes to getting what I want.”
“Yeah, how long did you have to work at getting Chloe in bed?” I huff.
His jaw tenses, and then he shakes his head. “Sometimes sex is just sex. Friends, though, they’re forever.”
“Oh my God,” I groan as I walk to my desk and dig into my bag for my phone. “Just leave. Give me your number so you can find your phone and get out of my damn life.”
He rattles off his number, and I dial it.
The call is answered immediately.
“Patrick’s Porno Palace, what’s your pleasure?”
My mouth drops, and I hear them chuckle. Then I thrust the phone at him. “Seriously, you all need help.”
He takes the phone. “Who’s this?”
Whoever it is, they are not very quiet as they laugh and say, “Sorry, Tricks, you said stay put. Your phone was under the passenger seat; ringer was turned off.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ll be there in five. Don’t move.”
He hangs up, looks at me, and smiles, but not the thousand-watt version. “I get you think you don’t want to be my friend, but I’m telling you that you won’t have a better one.”
“Newsflash, new guy: I don’t want one, I don’t need one.”
He shrugs. “Maybe I do.”
“I think you’ve got your hands full.”
He nods. “Always have. But maybe you can show me something different.”
“I’m not like Chloe. I’m not into playing show-and-tell with boys.”
He nods once and starts toward the door. “Good to know.” Before he shuts the door behind him, he looks back. “Sweet dreams, Savannah.”
As soon as he leaves, I’m able to release a full breath, one I’ve been holding since he slid under my bed. One that caught in my throat when I saw him up close, nearly nose to nose without the harsh lights that illuminated The Bean’s drive-thru, without the hood from his sweatshirt pulled up and over his black ball cap with the symbol that was almost wrapped around the number four, which shielded so much of his face.
Patrick, his name is Patrick, and regardless of my sexual preference, there is no doubt in my mind that he isn’t perhaps the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. And, for a girl who’s been to forty-five states, whose mother brought “uncles” in and out of whatever or wherever home was until she finally found her soul mate, I’ve seen more than I can count.
His eyes danced as if alive, which sounds insane, because they are technically alive, but it sounds no more foolish than this whole thought process going on in my head. They also held more emotions than I’ve ever seen. Beneath the bed, nearly black under the soft light in the room, brown like my own, but forest green flecks in abundance.
I inhale a deep breath and all I can smell is him,—Patrick—and he smells like fresh rain in the forest, mixed with soap.
He’s—
The door swings open, and Chloe and Heather walk in.
“Oh my God,” Chloe sighs out. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you.”
All the peace and harmony, and totally misguided thoughts, scatter like roaches. Now, the anger I felt as they talked shit about me while I was hiding under the bed, without the calming scent and telling eyes to buffer the blow, boil to the surface.
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Judas and Benedict. I’m good.”
“What are you talking about?” Chloe asks, her voice dripping with chemical sweetness.
“I was under the bed. I heard all your shit. So save it.” I walk over to the closet and grab my backpack, dumping my schoolbooks and supplies onto my bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Heather asks in that authoritative tone that makes my patriarchal-hating ass despise men and apparently women, too.
“I’m signing out for the weekend. Going home for the fucking holiday!” I yell as I turn around and look at Chloe. “Just like you should be.”
“Savvy, I—”
“Shut up. Just shut up!”
“Savvy, you need to calm the fuck down and—”
“Who pays you to babysit the basket case?” I cut Heather off.
“I think you misunderstood what—”
“I want answers,” I cut her off again. “In fact, I want my entire file from Whitaker’s office.”
“There’s no way I can get my hands on that kind of confidential information.”
“Better figure it the fuck out. I want it by Monday, and if you so much as look at more than my name on it, I will fucking leave here.” I look at Chloe. “And you’ll lose your discount.” I look at Heather. “And I’m guessing you’ll lose your fucking job.”
“And what happened to your sisterhood philosophy? The things you say about women empowerment all a bunch of shit to you?”
“You don’t get to question any of my philosophies. Oppressors shouldn’t hide behind the oppressed. I’ve lived, I’ve watched, I’ve learned. And I know all you are is a power-hungry man hiding in a woman’s skin.”
“Savvy, we’re friends,” Chloe says as tears run down her cheeks. “You know—”
“No, Chloe, we’re roommates. And I can promise you, by next semester, that will change.”
“You get that no one else wants to—”
I cut her off before she cuts me any deeper. “Shut the fuck up and get out of here before your ass loses the purchasing power that babysitting my ass provides, and you can no longer buy your friends. Newsflash, Heather: no one likes a cunt!” I
“You can’t just sign out!” she screams at me.
“I do every fucking summer. Scream at me again,
