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Sutton shows me to my room as Noah stalks off in the opposite direction. I wish I could say that’s the last I’ll see of him, but living in the same apartment is going to make that impossible.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s stressed about some big acquisition at work. I don’t bother with the details because it goes over my head. Hopefully, when it’s all over, you’ll get to see the nicer side of him.”
“Oh, I won’t be staying that long.”
Nope, I’m going to leave tomorrow. It was a mistake to come here at all.
“You can stay as long as you need to.” Sutton opens the door to the guest room. “This is you.”
It’s plain and very white. A bed with white linens takes center stage in the middle of the back wall. Both sides have glass bedside tables with intricate steel lamps on them. The flooring is white washed hardwood with one—what I hope is faux—gray fur rug on either side. The rest of the furniture is white, and if I was staying, I’d definitely add some pops of color. As it is, it has the necessities and will at least allow me to have a good night’s sleep tonight.
“The bathroom is just across the hall. I left you some toiletries in there so help yourself and, please, shout if you need anything.”
With a murmured ‘thank you’, I lock myself in the room, burrowing under the covers praying for sleep to take me over.
But my mind is plagued by memories I’ve tried so hard to keep buried.
FIVE
Savannah
TWELVE YEARS AGO
Tears stream down my cheeks as I race through the backdoor and into the kitchen. Thankfully my parents aren’t home, and although Jack was here when I left, I know he’ll be in his room, building something or other.
Closing the backdoor behind me, I lean back against the cool wood. My chest heaves and I hold a hand over my mouth to muffle the sob that spills free. The faint sound of a lawn mower fills the quiet, mingling with my crying.
Boys suck.
And Johnny Lake sucks the most.
Getting the lead in the school play had me on cloud nine. But I crashed back to earth when I heard him laughing with his friends. About how someone as boring and ugly as me could land the lead and that he’d need a gallon of mouthwash waiting in the wings after having to kiss me. I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to do the show alongside him. Not when I know that’s how he really feels.
Why does it hurt so bad?
I’m gasping for breath, unable to pull in enough oxygen. It feels like I might suffocate. My throat feels tight and burns with the pain of trying to breathe.
Is this how I die? Crying about a boy being mean?
Stop, Savannah.
It doesn’t work. Nothing is working.
The tears keep coming. A headache is forming behind my eyes.
A noise somewhere in the house finally has my sobs easing as I freeze, listening for where it came from. A hiccup leaves my lips just as I lift my gaze, and connect with a set of worried greenish-brown eyes. Noah’s standing at the end of the hallway by the front door assessing me. He doesn’t move.
Hurriedly, I swipe at my wet cheeks, praying he hasn’t seen me. The thought is laughable, because of course he has. He’s looking right at me.
Dipping my head, I skulk down the hallway, determined to escape to my room and cry in peace. A weight crushes my chest with each step. Even now, the tears still come. I’m mad at myself for being hurt over a boy’s stupid words. But they did hurt.
I grab the bannister with one hand, and swing myself around onto the first step. My progress is halted by Noah’s arm blocking my retreat. His hand rests in front of me, forcing me to stop.
I look up at him, confusion furrowing my brow. He’s much closer than I expected and his proximity has my whole body tingling. When my lips part as I suck in a much needed breath, his gaze dips to them before he swipes his tongue out over his own. Heat engulfs me at the movement.
Noah lifts his hand, wiping away a stray teardrop that rolls down my cheek as I blink up at him. It would be so easy to turn into him. To take the comfort I see hovering in his gaze. But that would just lead to rejection, and I’m not so sure I can handle anymore hurt today.
Concern laces his words as he asks, “What happened?”
