“You are so unbelievably gorgeous, Savannah. I’m not offering a pity fuck, I’m asking for a chance at what I have no right to want, or deserve, but you should be writing from experience. Not because you can’t make it up, but you shouldn’t have to.” I lift her chin so I can look her in the eye and add, “You deserve to be worshipped, and I want to be the one who does it.”
I blame the kiss that addled my brain for that declaration, way too honest for my comfort levels. But Savannah needs to know she’s wanted. And honestly, now that I’ve put these doubts in her head, I’m terrified she’ll find someone else. A guy who will sweet talk her and offer what I can’t. Which is what I should want for her. I do. But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in jail for murder, and I doubt I’d be able to show any restraint. So I lay it all out. I can’t have the girl and all that comes with it but fuck if I won’t fight to be the one who gets whatever pieces she’s willing to give.
She takes a step back, fingers pressed to her lips, which must be tingling like mine are, before she looks at me, right in the eye, and says, “I need to get to work.”
Then she’s gone before my heart can tell my brain to run after her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Savannah
You Can Try
That was…intense.
I struggled through my shift at my parents’ dealership, concentrating on admin tasks. Luckily, I was late enough that my parents didn’t have time to chat before, and they never want to talk after, so I lock up and drive home, my lips still feeling bruised.
When Noah took me skating, I said I felt alive, like I was flying. His kiss was like that, only I also felt like I was on fire. Like it was the most monumental moment of my life, and everything would be measured as before or after it. But it was just a kiss. And I ran out on him. Not that he didn’t deserve it with an offer like that, because I’m not the type to sleep around. One-night stands terrify me. But Noah isn’t a stranger. He’s a friend. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. That my body didn’t react with fireworks every time he touched me. I can deny it all I want, to him, especially to myself, but the truth is that I want him. I want his hands on me. I want more kisses. I want him to try to make me feel things, and…I want to be his.
But that’s the thing. He’s not offering himself. He’s offering sex. And I don’t think I can separate the two. Or want to.
There’s a box outside my dorm when I get there, with a succulent, an envelope, and a note. The envelope has my name on it in Izzie’s handwriting and contains a Team Callahan button, which makes me laugh, reluctantly, and wince. Then I read the note.
Sorry it’s a cactus instead of flowers, but I felt like you deserved something that wasn’t dead. Something alive, because you are so bright and full of life, even when you try to hide it.
I’m sorry I propositioned you this afternoon.
Actually, I’m not sorry I took a risk, because we miss 100% of the shots we don’t take, so I had to take mine, but I wish I had done it better. I didn’t mean to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. I wanted you to know that it wasn’t me inconveniencing myself to help you, I was coming up with an excuse to kiss you. And do other things. Because I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you biting your lip that first day at the arena, and it did not disappoint. But you’re probably my best friend who isn’t on the team, and I don’t want to jeopardize that, so we can forget it ever happened. Or talk about it if that’s what you need. Just please don’t go away. Not because I need your help with Izzie, or because it’s nice to have someone waiting when I get off the ice sometimes, but because the days when I see you are better than the ones I don’t, and getting you to smile’s my favorite part of those days. I promise I’ll do my best to keep my hands and lips to myself from now on.
Unless you expressly tell me not to.
Yours in friendship (hopefully),
Noah Callahan
* * *
Me
Thank you for the succulent.
He replies seconds later, like he was waiting for me.
Noah
Succulent what?
Me
That’s what the plant is called. A cactus has needles.
Noah
I’m so sorry.
Me
For basically offering me friends with benefits – before even establishing that we were friends? And disguising it as book research?
