Camden’s blue eyes go glacial as he shakes off the woman at his side.
Rather than get upset, the blond throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, this one’s a keeper.” Blue eyes bright, she smiles at me. “Don’t mind my brother. He’s had a rough week, and he’s a terrible flier.” She holds out a slim hand. “I’m Cora.”
Her brother?
And what does she mean byterrible week?
I hate that my attention immediately snaps back to him. Even more, I despise the concern that overtakes me when I note the dark circles under his eyes.
Jaw flexing, he looks away from me.
The disappointment in his expression hurts more than it should. He has no right to be upset with me. He never called, and I’m not doing anything wrong.
The two of us are not in a relationship. We spent one night together, and he hasn’t reached out all week. Having a drink with someone of the opposite sex is completely acceptable. Appropriate, even.
“I’m Savannah,” I mutter, unsuccessfully trying to force a friendly expression to my face.
“Well, Savannah, I hope this isn’t the last time we meet,” Cora says.
Beside her, her brother scoffs, avoiding eye contact.
A wave of annoyance rolls through me. What the hell? How is it that I’m the bad guy?
Before I can ask him what his issue is, he grabs his sister’s arm and tugs her toward the door without looking back.
Leaving me to wonder, what the hell just happened?
SIXTEEN
SAVANNAH
Calliope’s Column
It’s Not Him, It’s You (Kind Of)
Rule Number 3: When He Leaves, Don’t Follow Him.
This isthe dumbest thing I’ve ever done.
Glancing over my shoulder, I pull my jacket tighter around my body, fighting the bitter midnight cold.
Yeah. Definitely a stupid idea. I pull out my phone and navigate to the rideshare app. Why didn’t I ask the driver to wait until I confirmed Camden was home?
Of course I’d actually have to ring the doorbell to do that. But then he’d know I’ve made this idiotic gesture. That I’m standing outside his house in the middle of the night because I can’t shake the uneasiness swirling in my chest. The fear that I did something wrong.
I’ve never felt this type of guilt before. Probably because I’ve never owed anyone an explanation for my whereabouts.
My mother never cared where I went, my father was long gone by the time I was old enough to go anywhere alone, and I’ve never had a boyfriend who cared enough to be concerned about me.
Not that Camden Snow is my boyfriend.
God. I tip my head up and silently curse at the night sky. Why is dating so confusing?
I’ve never understood Sutton as well as I do in this moment. With a sigh, I request a ride. Then I click out of the app and text her, figuring she won’t see it until morning.
Me: Current me would like to say sorry to past you for being so judgmental. This dating crap is hard.
My phone lights up with a response immediately.
