Savannah froze. “No I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Her chest stuttered.
Harper lowered her voice. “This is about Franklin.”
“No,” Savannah said instantly.
“Savannah.”
“It’s not,” she insisted, even though her voice cracked on the last word. Humiliating. She swallowed hard, cheeks heating. “It’s not. I don’t care.”
Harper’s gaze softened in that infuriating way she did when she wasn’t buying a single word. “You do.”
Savannah pushed her chair back again, this time slower, more controlled. “I need air.”
“You need to talk.”
“No,” Savannah said, grabbing her bag. “I need to go home before I say something stupid.”
“You can’t avoid them forever.”
“Watch me.”
Harper stepped in front of her. “Savannah.”
Savannah blinked, vision blurring for a second, she prayed Harper didn’t notice. “Please move.”
Harper studied her for a long beat. “Savannah, this isn’t you.”
Savannah’s head snapped up. “You don’t know me.”
Harper blinked, taken aback. “I know you better than you think.”
“No,” Savannah said, voice tight and shaking with fury she didn’t want to examine. “You know the version of me that’s convenient. You don’t know anything else.”
“Sav—”
“Move,” Savannah said, louder this time.
Harper stepped aside slowly, hands raised in reluctant surrender.
Savannah didn’t wait. She walked fast, head down, keeping her eyes fixed on the exit so she wouldn’t accidentally collide with Tilly in the hallway.
She yanked one glove off as she pushed through the side door, fingers too hot, too restless. It slipped from her grip and landed somewhere near the lockers. She kept moving, alreadydigging for her keys, already trying to outrun the pressure in her chest.
She made it outside.
Cold wind slapped her cheeks.
Her eyes stung.
Her throat ached.
She didn’t cry. She refused.
She opened the car door and sat behind the wheel, gripping it until her fingers went numb.
