us over so we’re untangled from the foldable chair and stop myself from crushing her.
“My name’s not Savannah!” She grips my hoodie, making it … well, not impossible—I certainly could try to move—but her eyes darting between my lips and my eyes, giving me a look I’ve seen a hundred times, suggests otherwise. But when she realizes she’s holding me in place, my body over hers, my hands on the ground beside her head, hovering above her, she pushes me. “Get off of me!”
After kicking the damn chair that’s hooked around my leg off, I push myself up fully and stand, holding my hand out so I can pull her up as I tell her, “You really need to chill.”
She flops around as she kicks and pushes the sleeping bag off her and stands on her own. “What do you think you’re doing here!”
“Jesus.” I step back, my hands raised in surrender. “How much have you actually had to smoke?”
“Don’t you dare make this a me problem. I was minding my own business,” she says as she grabs one of the chairs and begins folding it.
I reach for the other and do the same.
“I don’t need your help, but I will get a damn restraining order if need be,” she snaps, pulling the chair I’ve folded away from me then starts stomping toward the bus that I now know is hers. She slides open the door and tosses both in.
This shit’s not so cute anymore. Actually, she’s pissing me off.
“You do what you gotta do.” I grab her sleeping bag and start to fold it. “But you messaged me, so—”
“I certainly did not.” She stomps toward me and snatches the sleeping bag. “Get it through your head; you’re not my type. The fact that you have a dick makes that so. Now, leave me alone.”
Momentarily shocked at the confession, because “not my type” could mean a lot of fucking things, like she likes short, skinny dudes, not tall, athletic, and hot. Or what I previously thought she meant—that men who have money are assholes. Never in a million years would I have thought that meant she was a lesbian.
My head is racing, because when the word lesbian pops into a teenage guy’s head, it’s normally a big turn-on. Our asses immediately jump to the idea that we may end up with four titties to chomp down on, but with her, I all of a sudden think I want to become one, not join them. Add to that the fact, I’m suddenly jealous that some girl could be playing with her and not me.
Distracted as fuck, I don’t even see the little shit get in her vehicle until it starts, and now she’s tearing ass out of here.
“Dammit, Savannah!” I yell like she’s even going to hear me, but I yell anyway.
I kick some dirt over the hot embers before hurrying to my Jeep.
Having no idea if the buzz wore off in her sleep, I’m irate that she’s being so fucking careless.
I start it up and hit the gas, determined to at the very least follow her, hoping that she doesn’t get in a fucking accident.
For twenty fucking minutes, I follow her until I recognize where I am—just a mile from the academy.
“Good fucking idea, Savvy, good fucking idea,” I hiss, knowing she’s heading back.
Chapter 8
“I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life's a bitch.
You've got to go out and kick ass.”
~Maya Angelou
Savvy
I toss myself down on my twin-sized bed in my dorm and hope to fall asleep before Judas returns from wherever the fuck she is, with whoever it is she’s fucking.
Ho.
I roll to my side and try to get comfortable, but I can’t, and it’s not because of her; it’s because of him.
What a way to wake up from a killer buzz.
So, he wasn’t wrong. Somehow, I texted the wrong person. I’ve yet to send him an apology for the misunderstanding, and he may not get one since he followed my ass all the way back to campus, making me a nervous wreck. I’d like to say it’s because I was scared of this total stranger showing up at my favorite spot, or that him hovering above me didn’t make me puke a little in my mouth, but that’s not it at all.
He confuses me. I don’t like it at all, because I do, actually, like it.
I mean, no judgment against those who are bisexual or, in Chloe’s case, try-sexual,