by Fields, MJ
“Oh, well, I have no idea where it is, but you need to hurry; my roommate will be back and our RA, Heather, will be doing rounds and—”
“Yeah, of course,” he says.
“Where do you think—”
“Honestly, no clue,” he says.
“Maybe it’s tangled up in the sheets,” she whispers as her bedding starts hitting the floor.
I puke a little in my mouth as I think about the overheard conversation through my headphones.
His “date” was Chloe. If I wasn’t in just my undies, I’d crawl out from under here and tell her how fucked up he and his friends are. Chauvinistic assholes. I’d tell her how stupid she’d be if she dated him.
“I can’t believe, with all your followers, I haven’t heard notifications pinging every five seconds.”
“I have them all shut off. Too distracting.”
Oh my God, he’s one of them!
“Maybe you could call it?” he asks, squatting down and feeling under her bed.
“Then you’d have my number.”
He chuckles. “I’d have my phone and be out of here before your roommate gets back.”
“I don’t think that would be good.”
“Why’s that?” he asks as he reaches farther under her bed and attempts to feel around.
Good luck, buddy. She’s a slob, I think.
“It was a one and done. An amazing one and …” She stops when there’s a knock on the door.
“Room check!” It’s Heather, the resident bitch.
“Oh my God, hide under my bed.”
“There’s no damn room,” he whispers in amusement.
“Then get under Savvy’s,” she replies with urgency.
Oh. My. God.
I shove myself in a corner, covering myself as best I can while he slides under my bed
When his eyes meet mine, I freeze.
He looks completely shocked, as he should, but still … What the fuck?
“Sorry, babe,” he whispers.
I glare at him. Pretty sure I’m showing teeth, too.
He narrows his eyes in confusion until he seemingly understands the error of his ways and says softly, “I mean, sorry, Savannah.”
I roll my eyes and whisper-hiss, “Not my name.”
His eyes begin to move down, and I grab his chin. “Don’t you dare.”
“Just looking for a name tag.” He smirks, looking into my eyes.
“I told you I don’t know where she is,” Chloe says, picking up her bedding from the floor.
“Well, it’s the holidays; we all know how she gets.”
“She doesn’t get anything this time of year; she just likes to be alone. BTW, same.”
“Last year, at Christmas, she was arrested for putting a wig and bra on Joseph and dressing baby Jesus in pink.”
He grins and silently chuckles.
“That charge never stuck,” Chloe huffs. “And she’s not that bad.”
“Every summer, she gets arrested at whatever protest she’s taking part of, for whatever her cause happens to be that week.”
He arches an eyebrow, and I wish I could roll over so I wasn’t forced to look at him. I choose to close my eyes instead. I’m kind of glad he knows I’m a badass, or hell, he’s probably even thinking I’m a freak and that will have his ass running the other way when he sees me … at my freaking school.
“That happened once.” Chloe defends me.
God, if You’re really a thing and are done torturing me, take me now, or the dress is nothing compared to what I’ll do next month.
“She’s no different from the rest of us; just more fearless,” Chloe says while, I assume, still shuffling bedding.
I kind of love Chloe right now.
You tell her, sister!
“Except she is different. Hello, we all called her Unbreakable, and she didn’t even get it was because of that TV show, let alone a dig on her. Just fueled her crazy feminazi ways. You know it, and I know it. Hell, your mom gets the Savvy Sutton discount on your room and board.”
The what? I want to scream.
Chloe sighs. “Heather, shut up.”
“Is it really worth the twenty percent discount to babysit the little genius, gypsy orphan who will never be anything but a cause herself, all year? You’re missing your own family Thanksgiving, just like I am, because of her.”
Okay, and now … now I want to cry.
When I open my eyes, I immediately wish I didn’t. He’s looking at me with pity.
“She isn’t that bad. She’s actually kind of sweet.” I hear something skid across the floor. “And also, shut the hell up. She’s around here somewhere, and if she hears any of that, she’ll probably organize a bra burning, just so she can burn my bras. And, Heather, I like my bras.”
Anger crosses his face, and he starts to move.
I mouth, “Don’t,” and I’m not sure why, but I really don’t want them to know I’m hearing this shit.
“You should tell Whitaker that. Let him know she intimidates you.”
She sighs. “Just get out.”
“No way. Her beat to shit, eye sore of a hippie mobile is on the property. You come help me find her, or I’ll call security and have whoever’s ass that’s sticking out from under Unbreakable’s bed belongs to dragged out of here, and you’ll get a write-up, maybe lose your scholarship.”
“Fuck,” he sighs.
“Use the back door,” Heather snaps. “And, Chloe, let’s go find her now. I’m stuck here all break because of her, too.”
“Fine,” Chloe huffs.
When the door closes, he doesn’t move.
“Go.” I push on his abdomen that feels like a damn brick wall behind his hoodie.
“Fuck them, Savannah.” His eyebrows are knit together.
“And fuck you. That’s not my name. Now move.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
“What?” I gasp as I push him harder, trying like hell to move him.
“Come eat with my Crew. You’ll fit in perfectly,” he says, serious as shit.
“Move or I swear I’ll kick you in the nuts as I push my thumbs into your eye sockets.”
He lets out a soft laugh as he rolls to his back and scoots out.
“Do me a favor first?” He bends down and shoves my work shirt under the bed. “Call my cell so I can get out of here and back to my cousins before they get me or themselves into any more trouble tonight.”
“Find it yourself,” I grunt as I try to put my shirt on, under my damn bed.
“Come on, Savannah; help the new guy out.”
I scoot out from under my bed and pull the oversized tee down to its full length, nearly hitting my knees. Then I cross my arms and tell him, “Once again, my name isn’t Savannah.”
He shrugs. “From what I heard, you’re trying to figure out who you are, just like the rest of us.”
“I know who I am.”
He smiles, and it’s … dazzling. “I’d love to hear all about who you are.”
“Look, asshole,” I huff, “I’m not a cause, or a case. I don’t need your daddy’s money, or invites to holiday meals, or—”
“Straight up, it’s not that deep, Savannah. I look for three things in a friend: honesty, trustworthiness, and loyalty.”
“I am not trying to be your friend.”
“Well, that’s going to make me try to make you mine a bit harder, but I’m not one to shy away from doing the work when it comes to getting what I want.”
“Yeah, how long did you have to work at getting Chloe in bed?” I huff.
His jaw tenses, and then he shakes his head. “Sometimes sex is just sex. Friends, though, they’re forever.”
“Oh my God,” I groan as I walk to my desk and dig into my bag for my phone. “Just leave. Give me your number so you can find your phone and get out of my damn life.”
He rattles off his number, and I dial it.
The call is answered immediately.
“P
atrick’s Porno Palace, what’s your pleasure?”
My mouth drops, and I hear them chuckle. Then I thrust the phone at him. “Seriously, you all need help.”
He takes the phone. “Who’s this?”
Whoever it is, they are not very quiet as they laugh and say, “Sorry, Tricks, you said stay put. Your phone was under the passenger seat; ringer was turned off.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ll be there in five. Don’t move.”
He hangs up, looks at me, and smiles, but not the thousand-watt version. “I get you think you don’t want to be my friend, but I’m telling you that you won’t have a better one.”
“Newsflash, new guy: I don’t want one, I don’t need one.”
He shrugs. “Maybe I do.”
“I think you’ve got your hands full.”
He nods. “Always have. But maybe you can show me something different.”
“I’m not like Chloe. I’m not into playing show-and-tell with boys.”
He nods once and starts toward the door. “Good to know.” Before he shuts the door behind him, he looks back. “Sweet dreams, Savannah.”
As soon as he leaves, I’m able to release a full breath, one I’ve been holding since he slid under my bed. One that caught in my throat when I saw him up close, nearly nose to nose without the harsh lights that illuminated The Bean’s drive-thru, without the hood from his sweatshirt pulled up and over his black ball cap with the symbol that was almost wrapped around the number four, which shielded so much of his face.
Patrick, his name is Patrick, and regardless of my sexual preference, there is no doubt in my mind that he isn’t perhaps the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. And, for a girl who’s been to forty-five states, whose mother brought “uncles” in and out of whatever or wherever home was until she finally found her soul mate, I’ve seen more than I can count.
His eyes danced as if alive, which sounds insane, because they are technically alive, but it sounds no more foolish than this whole thought process going on in my head. They also held more emotions than I’ve ever seen. Beneath the bed, nearly black under the soft light in the room, brown like my own, but forest green flecks in abundance.
I inhale a deep breath and all I can smell is him,—Patrick—and he smells like fresh rain in the forest, mixed with soap.
He’s—
The door swings open, and Chloe and Heather walk in.
“Oh my God,” Chloe sighs out. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you.”
All the peace and harmony, and totally misguided thoughts, scatter like roaches. Now, the anger I felt as they talked shit about me while I was hiding under the bed, without the calming scent and telling eyes to buffer the blow, boil to the surface.
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Judas and Benedict. I’m good.”
“What are you talking about?” Chloe asks, her voice dripping with chemical sweetness.
“I was under the bed. I heard all your shit. So save it.” I walk over to the closet and grab my backpack, dumping my schoolbooks and supplies onto my bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Heather asks in that authoritative tone that makes my patriarchal-hating ass despise men and apparently women, too.
“I’m signing out for the weekend. Going home for the fucking holiday!” I yell as I turn around and look at Chloe. “Just like you should be.”
“Savvy, I—”
“Shut up. Just shut up!”
“Savvy, you need to calm the fuck down and—”
“Who pays you to babysit the basket case?” I cut Heather off.
“I think you misunderstood what—”
“I want answers,” I cut her off again. “In fact, I want my entire file from Whitaker’s office.”
“There’s no way I can get my hands on that kind of confidential information.”
“Better figure it the fuck out. I want it by Monday, and if you so much as look at more than my name on it, I will fucking leave here.” I look at Chloe. “And you’ll lose your discount.” I look at Heather. “And I’m guessing you’ll lose your fucking job.”
“And what happened to your sisterhood philosophy? The things you say about women empowerment all a bunch of shit to you?”
“You don’t get to question any of my philosophies. Oppressors shouldn’t hide behind the oppressed. I’ve lived, I’ve watched, I’ve learned. And I know all you are is a power-hungry man hiding in a woman’s skin.”
“Savvy, we’re friends,” Chloe says as tears run down her cheeks. “You know—”
“No, Chloe, we’re roommates. And I can promise you, by next semester, that will change.”
“You get that no one else wants to—”
I cut her off before she cuts me any deeper. “Shut the fuck up and get out of here before your ass loses the purchasing power that babysitting my ass provides, and you can no longer buy your friends. Newsflash, Heather: no one likes a cunt!” I
“You can’t just sign out!” she screams at me.
“I do every fucking summer. Scream at me again, and I’ll show you how I survive that at seventeen.”
Chapter 4
“You can’t always get what you want,
but if you try, sometimes you just might find,
you get what you need.”
~ The Rolling Stones
Patrick
Growing up, surrounded by family, never feeling like the only child that I actually am, never wondering who had my back, or where I’d be on a holiday, was something I couldn’t fathom. Hell, no one I knew at the school we just moved from, Saint Mary’s, had that issue either.
Right now, my ass is driving in circles, waiting for the brownie brothers to sober up a bit more before pulling into the same vacation house all our families rent every summer but are now sharing until the houses each of my father’s brothers bought for their families close. Never a moment alone, which is something I’ll never take for granted, but once in a while, it gets a bit taxing.
The move was something all eight of us first cousins and the other distant relatives who didn’t make the move basically begged for since middle school. It wasn’t until my cousins, Truth and Kiki, got in trouble then kicked out of school that it actually happened. It wasn’t a reward for bad behavior; it was the fact that my uncles, Cyrus and Jase, finally saw firsthand how nasty those nuns could be.
And yeah, Kiki found out she was knocked up and wasn’t going back there, so here we are. And yeah, everyone is stoked. But after tonight, I’m pretty damn sure we’ll be dealing with a different kind of mean girls, and not ones in penguin costumes—the nuns—but ones wearing navy blue blazers.
First world problems, I remind myself.
I wasn’t so “privileged” that I was blind to what I just witnessed. My aunt Tara was in the foster care system until she was eighteen, and my parents own a record label, manage artists, and they haven’t shielded me from anything that goes on in that world. But fuck, seeing the little badass at The Bean change when those bitches cut her down, it fucking hurt my soul. Hurt worse that she didn’t accept the olive branch, and not because I want to fuck her. I mean, of course I want to rub all up on her and her all up on me. I legit think I’ve lost my mind with how much I want her, but not when she’s been soul fucked by the sisterhood.
“Tricks,” Amias yawns. “Told Dad we’d be back at eleven.”
I pull into a drug store parking lot and do a U-turn. “And we will.”
* * *
After Justice unlocked the lower level doors and Max and Amias snuck in, I pulled into the driveway and parked. I grab my phone off the charger and shake my head as I laugh to myself or, rather, at myself for tonight’s escapades and make a mental note not to fuck another girl who attends Seashore … unless it’s Savannah.
Closing the front door behind me, I kick off my sneakers next to the line of other shoes and try really fucking hard to remember that each of them have taken their own path, and that all made it to this poin
t.
“You okay?”
I look up as Mom comes down the stairs. “Yeah, fine.”
“Oh, shit, Irish”—Dad laughs as he follows her—“he said he’s fine.”
“Maxie back?” I look up from the foyer to the main floor where Uncle Jase is leaning over the railing.
“He and Amias are downstairs, getting their showers in tonight.”
“You hungry?” Aunt Carly calls from somewhere up there. “We have a pie that didn’t quite make it.”
“Coconut crème?” I ask.
She leans down. “Your favorite.”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll get your slice ready,” she says as if she’s just won the lottery.
I look over at the four sets of eyes burning a hole in the side of my head. “You two okay?”
“We are, but your friend”—Dad gives me a tight smile, the same one he always does when his one country star, Brandon Falcon, gives him a hard time—“is being a pain in the ass.”
“Gonna have to give me more than that to work with.” I laugh.
“He’s refusing to go to the AMAs.”
I know damn well why. He’s got the hots for Kiki, and based on the message he sent earlier, she blocked him from messaging her. I would have told him to leave her alone myself, because she’s knocked up, but that’s Crew, and I’m not blowing her spot. And I can’t say shit to her, because he’s a friend, and trust and loyalty are like the Hudson River—they flow both ways. That is also why I can’t tell my parents that he’s going to be a fuck of a lot harder to deal with when he finds out she’s pregnant, if he truly is in love with her, like he said he has been for years.
“He leaves for his European tour soon. Maybe he—”
“It’s the AMAs,” Dad growls.
I watch Mom roll her eyes and can’t help but find it amusing.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re going to be an amazing manager.” Dad gives my shoulder a squeeze.
“Yeah?” I laugh. “Is that what I’m gonna be?”
“Little dude, you can be whatever the hell you want to be, and you’ll be amazing at it. Just saying, option’s there.”
