“Why don’t you spend the night tonight?” he asks and reaches out to twirl a bit of my black ponytail around his finger.
“Sure. Let’s do it.”
It’s as simple as that, and he leaves to go join his buddies for the run.
I hear the whistle and then Elaina, Greta, and Kaitlyn join me. Elaina’s blonde hair swings and shines in the sunlight as she runs, and Greta smiles encouragingly at me, her smooth onyx skin reminding me that I should probably wash my face when I get home. Kaitlyn is the quietest on the cheer team, and I don’t know if it’s because she comes from a poor household, but she has this negative mentality over nearly everything. We love her, but sometimes I wish I could tell her that life isn’t always going to be this bad, that life isn’t set in stone, and that we all can create our futures, no matter what we think. That would be rich coming from me.
“He’s such an ass sometimes. I hope you didn’t let him off the hook too easily,” Elaina says as we all jog together in a line. I give her a sleek expression that shows her “I’d never do that,” when in fact, I have. I let him think I believe I’m lucky to have him. That my world would never be the same without him. Sometimes silence is cowardly, as you allow someone oblivious to believe something they want without correcting them. No matter what, I hold the power because I know deep down inside that I won’t keep living this. I’m making plans for the future, and freedom is my end game. Derrick does not fit into the scheme of my freedom.
As I run, I am lost in my thoughts. Wyatt taking up the majority of the space in my head. I power through my breathlessness, anger burning in my limbs. I hate it all with such a passion that no one could ever understand, and it just feels like this rage is only worsening. Like I’m slowly unraveling.
By the end of the mile, I’m shaky with hunger. My vision is spotty, and I run to the locker room to grab a drink of water. When I jog into the room, I take deep breaths and feel as if my lungs are being splintered with every inhale. I drink savagely from the fountain as sweat drips down my neck and back and between my breasts.
“Savannah!”
A girl’s figure appears out of the corner of my eye. I blink a few times before I can adjust to talking to another person, and when I finally look up, I recognize Olivia, a Junior who’s also on the ASB team. Olivia has long wavy dark hair and she’s got the kind of body girls envy because her ass is nice and round and her waist tiny. Even I can’t help but feel like I should work out more when around her. Maybe Dad is right. Maybe I have gained weight and I should skip a few meals.
“Hey. I was actually looking for you…” she begins, and I see discomfort in the small smile on her face. I try to level off my deep breaths and place my hands on my hips.
“What is it?”
“I just wanted to say, I don’t think Derrick is as committed to your relationship as you are. I’ve heard rumors…I just thought you should know.”
“What kind of rumors?”
I feel my heart pounding in my ears. People have talked about Derrick and I before, and have tried to get between us. But for some reason this claim that he’s not committed, that she’s heard rumors, it gives me cause to pause. Because there’s something more beyond the words, and although I can’t really tell what it is, her insistence makes me that much more nauseous.
“You should talk to him. Ask him what he’s really doing at school so early in the morning. Did you know the football team only meets one morning during the week? The rest are in the afternoons,” she tells me, and takes a deep, reflective breath. “Just talk to him.”
I nod softly and swallow the huge lump in my throat.
“I’ll see you after school at the ASB meeting?” Olivia asks, and I want to roll my eyes. But I bite my lip and reach out to hang onto the water fountain, searching for something—anything to hold me up.
“Yeah. See you then.”
***
“That little creep said what?” Elaina hisses at me from across the space between our desks. I motion for her to be quiet, as we garner strange looks from the history teacher who is currently lecturing us all on the Roman Empire and the rise of Julius Caesar.
“No way. She’s just jealous of you. She always has been,” Greta says from behind me, her voice resolved even in a whisper.
“I don’t know what to believe,” I shrug, and play with the edge of my notebook. “All I can do is ask him what she meant.”
“Derrick wouldn’t do that to you. I mean, can you imagine? Every guy in this school would be on you. He doesn’t want that,” Kaitlyn smiles knowingly. “Seriously, I wouldn’t even worry!”
I glance at her, at the light freckling dusting her nose and cheeks, admiring how she can look so sincere with her severe features.
“Thanks, guys,” I say, sinking deeper into my seat.
But the rest of the class I can’t help but be distracted by Olivia’s words. Not only this but I’m wrought with nerves for so many other reasons. For last night, for my dad finding out that I skipped classes, and now Derrick. At least tonight I can go to Krista and Charles’ and pretend like everything is fine.
I glance at my phone under my desk and send a text to my dad.
Staying at Derrick’s tonight.
Then, I see Wyatt’s name in my previous message log. My heart nearly skips a beat. For some reason I ache to talk to him, to tell him everything that I’m feeling and thinking. I want so badly to be near someone who understands me, even if this understanding is forbidden. Then I wonder, anxiously, if Wyatt truly cares. Maybe he’s like every other asshole in my school who’d like to take a bite out of me purely because they think I’m attractive. Does Wyatt feel this same way? Am I just an easy target?
Is my car done? I text him. I want to get it back as soon as possible. This is another key piece that I need in place at the end of Senior year. I will have my freedom.
But as I wait for a response, the rest of the school day feels uncomfortable. Like I’m reaching out to him and he’s denying me. I suppose I did message him this morning telling him that last night was a mistake. Still, there’s no denying that he’s the type of man I want to lose myself in. Maybe I’m sick and he’s my cure. Don’t we naturally seek out things we need? Or is it the opposite, we seek out the things that are most toxic to us?
I attend the ASB meeting and we end up deciding to host a Friday night Halloween party at the old Thornwood hotel. We’ve already got the go-ahead, and the space will be perfectly freaky and haunting. There will be many chaperones in attendance, a potluck-style dinner, and spooky décor. I even throw out that we should make the upstairs haunted. We could raise money for Prom by offering tickets to the haunted rooms, or something else we need money for. The principal thinks this is a wonderful idea, and I grin, delighted. Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. For one night, things get a little grittier, a little dirty, and a little unpredictable. It’s the unknown that excites and entices.
Derrick drives us in his black sporty Toyota Tacoma with lifted wheels to his house. We’re mostly silent during the drive, and I gnaw at my lip the entire time. I notice that I’m hiding my phone in my purse, even when it vibrates I don’t check it. My heart leaps when I hear the vibration, and I glance at him to see if he’s noticed. It seems that he hasn’t.
After a few minutes of silence, Derrick blares Blackbear through his speakers, cranks up the heat, and rolls his windows down so that the chilly fall air circulates around us. He reaches out and grabs my hand, and I thread my fingers with his. It’s painful, knowing that there is so much unsaid.
“Is my dad still working on your car?” he asks.
“Um, yeah I think so.”
He turns down the volume and kneads my fingers between his.
“Is something bothering you?” he asks.
“No. I’m fine. I think I’m just…anxious about the future, that’s all.”
“Same. I’ve applied to maybe five colleges and haven’t heard back from any,” he reveals.
“Oh. I didn’t know you’d applied to so many,” I say, fingers plucking at my black leggings. “What ones?”
“Boston. New York. Seattle. Dallas. California state. I just want to be a part of a good team,” he licks his lips and grips the steering wheel lazily.
It’s not about education for him. He, like many other mediocre high school football players, will go off to colleges where they might play for a season on scholarship and then be dropped because they just don’t have what it takes. Then he’ll drop out because there’s no other passion for him to follow, and what then? Will he run back to Mommy and Daddy to contemplate the true meaning of his life? The alternative path?
“I understand,” I say, and cross my arms.
It doesn’t hurt as much as it should that he’s applied without talking to me. Maybe we both know that once High School is over our reign will be complete, and then we can part ways.
“I was thinking about—” I start.
“I mean, New York would be great. But it’s so far away. Same with Boston. But I kind of want something different, you know? I need to just get the hell out of this town.”
“Yeah,” I agree, leaning my head against the open window. I get it more than he knows. Then I wonder, do we all feel this way? Are we all struggling under the pressure of Thornwood’s miasma of political and social norms? Are we all bursting at the seams for escape?
When we reach their home, I rush to the bathroom and unlock my phone to scan my messages. Derrick’s voice echoes through the house as he says hello to his mom. The airiness of the house gives no one room for secrets. It’s all marble floors and crisp white walls with gold accents and leather furniture; a modern mansion.
It’s almost done. Would you like me to drop it off at your house?
I smile, nearly giddy. I do a little dance and clamp my eyes shut. I think about his guiding words last night, how he’d been so calm, so in control. He’d never asked something of me that was too much. We both knew what was happening, and I relish that memory now that I’m alone.
Sure. Will you let me know the total price when you’re finished? I text back.
Don’t worry about it. The text pops on my phone and I hold my breath. Does he mean he’s going to pay for it? Intense guilt flutters down inside my belly, and I hold myself and lean against the counter, staring at myself in the mirror.
I can pay you back. I pop the letters into the message bar and hit send.
No. Is his only reply.
I will have to respond later. I can’t spend the entire night in the bathroom, thus, I delete the messages and head for the winding staircase that leads upstairs to Derrick’s massive upper floor bedroom. It’s more like he has the entire upstairs to himself, and as I come into his room, I find that he’s sitting there on the bed, changed into comfortable clothes and he’s messing around on his laptop. He quickly shuts it when I enter.
This sparks my curiosity.
“Olivia said something really weird today,” I say as I toss my backpack to the side of the room, and pause a few feet in front of him. Am I holding myself again? Do I look weak, vulnerable, and unimpressive? I hate how he makes me feel, and adjust my stance so that I appear stronger—less, beneath him. I stiffen my back and lift my chin, drinking in his confused expression. Or is that feigned confusion?
“She said that you’ve been coming to school early for reasons other than football and that people are gossiping.”
“Babe, gossip is gossip. It’s not like the shit they say is true,” he ruffles his hair and tilts his head accusingly. “Wait, don’t tell me you believe her.”
“Well, I don’t know what I’m supposed to think, given that she didn’t tell me any details. She just said that there’s something going on that I don’t know about. So? What is it, Derrick?” I now place my hands on my hips, suddenly feeling an unwelcome slither of anguish twisting in my chest. His dismissal makes it that much worse.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. I go to school to train in the mornings. Some of those mornings aren’t with the team. I do them on my own so I stay in shape,” he says, and I see a glint of impatience. “You really think I’d cheat on you?”
“You have to train twice a day? If you get there at five, school starts at 8, then after school, you have another two hours with the team? How many hours is that…hm? Four to five hours a day of working out and practicing football? Do you think I’m stupid, Derrick?” I ball my fists at my waist, this entire conversation cording my body with tension. My words are clipped, solid, and irascible. I won’t let him dismiss me like everyone else in my life. Not him. He doesn’t hold enough weight in my world for him to treat me this way. I’m sick of pretending that I care.
“You’re crazy, Savannah,” he blows out a breath and rolls his eyes, leaning back on his queen-size bed as if I’m completely irrelevant, foolish, and utterly dumb.
“Yeah. Of course, call the girl crazy. Such a typical response,” I grind out, and cross my arms. “You know what? I’m done. Go have fun with whatever nasty side bitch you’ve been fucking.”
I snatch my backpack and then go to his dresser and grab all of my things. My underwear, shirts, and pants, even an old sweatshirt I’d left here at the start of last year. Derrick jumps up from his bed and grabs my arm.
“Don’t go, Sav. Come on. You know I’d never do that to you,” he speaks softly, trying to calm me down. But these words mean nothing to me. I know when people are lying, and I won’t ignore it anymore.
“Whatever. I have homework to do,” I yank my arm away from him, but he grabs hold of my other arm, and presses me against him, holding me close.
“Please. Don’t go. We can talk this out,” he says, and his hand slips down my face and brushes along my jaw. My heart pounds in my chest as I try to free myself but he won’t release me.
“Let me go. Now,” I snap. I jerk against him, but he clings to me, and then finally throws me back onto the bed. I hit the mattress and bounce twice before I gasp and look up to see his face. He’s contemplating climbing on top of me, but then he stalks away, out the door, and I grapple with my things and force my gelatinous legs to a stand. I shake with fear, my entire body now cold.
What was he thinking? Would he have…? I cannot even fathom the questions bouncing around inside my head. Instead, I gather all of my things, even the toothbrush and toothpaste out of his bathroom, and then fly down the stairs.
“Savannah?” Krista calls to me from her office, but I ignore her and race out the front door. I don’t even bother to close it. I let it swing wide and slam.
Consider me a madwoman, because I run without thinking. I run without even addressing the pain radiating through my limbs as I struggle to maintain my pace. Tears are flung from my face as the wind taunts them, my body ice cold. I don’t even realize that I’m running to Wyatt’s until I’m on his street, the winding roads overgrown with blackberry bushes, giant pine, and woodland bushes.
This is the only place I want to be. I can’t go home. I just want something different. I can’t face any of them, not my dad, not Derrick, nor Krista or Charles. I don’t even feel the urge to text my friends.
When I walk up to Wyatt’s old home, I admire the wild dead grass and array of flowers popping up in his lawn. I enjoy the look of every imperfection, knowing that at least he’s honest. People in this town may pretend that they don’t have these flaws, they might pretend that because their homes are perfect, their lawns immaculate, and their families picture-ready, that their insides are the same. But they’re not, and the more that I learn about the world, the more I understand that we’re all playing a game, trying to keep up, trying to win a prize that we aren’t even aware of. What is it, the fight to be the most renowned? The most prestigious? The most perfect? What does that give us? I feel like I’m finally waking up to a truth, and this truth is something that goes against everything I’ve been taught to aspire for.
Wyatt’s truck is, luckily, parked in the driveway. I feel a flush
of embarrassment roll through me, but I ignore it and force myself to walk. To take each step swiftly, because these steps mean more to me than any I’ve ever taken before. They lead to something imperfect. Something true. Something unknown.
I head to the door, hop up the steps, and knock.
Waiting there takes what feels like a lifetime. A lifetime where the devil and the angel on my shoulders argue endlessly, and all I can do is stay rooted to my spot before turning back and running home like a scared little girl.
The door swings open. He stands there, hazel eyes burning with intensity. When I see him, the wind is nearly knocked from my body. I’ve always felt discomfort when staring into his eyes, knowing that I shouldn’t, knowing that there is too much there that I cannot deny, that by peering back into someone’s gaze makes me more naked than I could be without clothes. Because he can read me like a book. He could touch my spine and I’d shiver open, falling apart for him with one gentle touch. I’d let him read every page of me if he wanted, give him access to every chapter, every footnote, every little sentence that make me who I am, and splay myself so that he could peruse at his leisure.
“Savannah…”
There it is again, the heart-crushing way he says my name. He’s such an oblivious man. Doesn’t he know that saying my name like that makes me his?
“I’m sorry, I just…” I start, completely flustered. “I’ve been running for thirty minutes. Can I come in?”
He nods slowly and then glances around the street behind me to see if anyone has been watching. When he sees no one, he ushers me in.
“What are you doing here?” he wastes no time, and I go to the living room and toss my jam-packed backpack to the side, running my hands through my messy ponytail.
“I came for my car,” I lie, and let out a breath filled with so much more than he could ever understand.
Wyatt walks slowly toward me as if I’m a wild animal and he could scare me off if he walks too fast. I take in his height, his shadow falling across me and causing my stomach to clench. I’m alone in a house with him, a man I’d just masturbated to the night before. Who knows that I touch myself when I think about him.
The Prom Queen's Sinner: Thornwood Small Town Forbidden Romance Book One Page 7
