Tricked Steel: A Friends To Lovers Standalone Romance

by Fields, MJ

  12:02 a.m. - Damn, girl, way to make a guy feel like a douche.

  Day Three

  9:20 a.m. - Heard you’re sick. Hope you get better soon.

  12:18 p.m. - Let me know if you need any notes from any of our classes.

  5:03 p.m. - WEB MD says you’re exhausted. Hope you’re resting up.

  12:01 a.m. - Thinking about you. Need anything, just holla.

  Day Four

  9:47 a.m. - No plans for the weekend. You need something, let me know.

  12:22 p.m. - Let me know if you need any notes.

  4:32 p.m. - Last night with the Crew. Moving tonight. Let me know if you need anything.

  My finger hovers over the messenger app while I contemplate what to send, or if I shouldn’t send anything at all.

  Fuck it.

  Day Five

  11:55 p.m. - Seriously hoping you get better soon, girl. I’m dialing it down on the messages. Not like you’re reading them anyway. Let me know how you’re doing, Savvy, or at least let someone know.

  *prayer hands*

  Send.

  I toss my phone on the bed beside me, grab my remote, and flip on the TV, hoping something will be on to take my mind off becoming such a bitch and worrying about the girl who’s probably filing a restraining order.

  “Maybe you should watch the Hallmark Channel, Tricks,” I huff. “Maybe you should get yourself some pads and period cramp meds, too.”

  I start scrolling through Netflix when my phone buzzes. Blindly, I grab it and hit accept.

  “Sup?” I answer then hear that rasp.

  “What are you doing in my phone?”

  Shit, she knows I’m checking her location on the daily, and now the messages make me look like a fucking boy scout.

  “I can explain,” falls out of my mouth in a way that is an absolute admission of guilt.

  “Um, who is this? And why are you hiding?”

  Hiding? I think and pull the phone back to make sure it is Savvy. She looks like hell, and I know that’s a shit thing to say, but she does. Sick as hell.

  “Damn, babe.”

  Shit, I think and quickly amend my mistake. “I mean—”

  “Patrick, what do you want?”

  I sit up and scoot back against my headboard. “Have you been seen by a doctor?”

  “Necessary for a diagnosis. They insisted because stupid Chloe has it. I hate doctors, and I hate them more because they landed me in this”—her lip pouts out and her voice quivers now—“stupid fucking room.”

  “Shit, Sav.” I stop myself from saying Savannah, not wanting to piss her off. “Savvy. What can I do to help?”

  “Well, for starters, stop having Chloe call me to make amends.”

  “Thought you may be stuck in there with her and wanted to make sure—”

  “If I was stuck with her, I’d have offed myself.” She flops back on her bed, her black hair fanning across the pillow. Sick or not, she’s incredibly beautiful. And yes, I am eyeballing her tits, now jiggling slightly because she’s braless and on her back.

  “Don’t say shit like that,” I whisper.

  She sighs. “Anything else?”

  “Would it be fucked up if I admit I kind of miss seeing you?”

  “I don’t know why you keep pushing something that’s never going to happen. I mean, there are plenty of other girls who would love your attention. Trust me; these dorm walls are thin. Do you want to know what they say about you?”

  “Don’t really give a shit.”

  “Their names?”

  “Not interested.”

  “I’m not interested in having sex with you.”

  “Just out of curiosity, when have I ever said I’d like to make you come?”

  I’m definitely hoping she doesn’t have some power like being clairvoyant.

  “It’s either power, sex, or money with men.”

  “Maybe so, but maybe some just really want to be your friend.” I’m about sick of saying that, because never in my life have I had trouble making friends. Hell, I’m the chill one. Everyone loves me.

  “So, you don’t want to try to have power over me, have sex with me, or …” She pauses. “No money, so answer the first two.”

  “Power? Hell no. I like you just the way you are. No bullshit. Sex? I’m guessing that’s not an option because you’re into girls, and I’m not into forcing anyone to do anything they don’t want to.”

  “I call bullshit.”

  “Same questions for you. Do you want power over me or to gain it from me? Do you want to fuck me? Do you want my family’s money?”

  “Power? All females want what has been stripped of them since the beginning of time. Money? Not a penny. Sex? Still like girls, even though stupid Chloe nearly ruined that for me.”

  “Come again?” I ask, shocked.

  “She didn’t tell you when you called her to try to make her—”

  “Didn’t call her. Sent a message telling her what needed to be done. Because I said I was going to help you two sort your shit in class. I’m a man of my word. I haven’t even looked to see if she responded, because that shit she pulled was rachet.”

  “Then why?”

  “You wanna know a secret, Savvy?”

  “Not really, but I’m guessing you’ll tell me regardless.”

  “If it had been any other girl at Seashore who overheard the shit being talked in my Jeep that night, then saw us, it wouldn’t have mattered if it offended her; she’d have blushed, stammered, then flirted. She wouldn’t have called us on the shit, not thrown daggers at us with those fucking autumn-colored eyes. She sure as hell wouldn’t have been brazen enough to drop a bag of food in my lap. She wouldn’t have dropped the change I told her to keep. And I can assure you, any other girl wouldn’t so much as flinch, wouldn’t have hesitated one second if I told her to drop her ass on my lap.”

  She rests her arm over her eyes.

  I’m spilling truths, and she’s covering her damn eyes?

  “You think you have it bad having tits and a vagina? Slip on my shoes for a day. I can’t trust anyone except family to be a true friend. Friends who will call me on my shit, not kiss my ass because of who my parents are, or whatever opportunity they think I can provide them, because of who I am. My cousins and I all deal with that shit. Granted, the younger ones eat it up, buying into it. They still believe that people want them for who they are. They’ll learn, just like I have. Facts? They’re my people, my Crew, but there are still times when I want a break from all of them. Figure out who I am without them. Plan to do that before I graduate.”

  She doesn’t say shit, so I give it to her straight. “No fucking doubt I’m attracted to you. You’re stunning. I appreciate beauty. Real, raw beauty, unfiltered. But don’t you dare lie to yourself and me. You find me attractive. I see how you look at me. And, Savvy, by all means, keep looking. I don’t mind at all. But don’t think for a minute that I don’t see it. I’ll never lie to you, so truth? I like the way you react to me. I like the way you look at me.”

  Chapter 12

  Women are always saying,

  'We can do anything that men can do.'

  But men should be saying,

  'We can do anything that women can do.'

  ~Gloria Steinem

  ~Three weeks later~

  Savvy

  Most people get the “winter blues,” whereas I am most anxious and worrisome, and yes, a bit depressed, from the end of August until the first snow.

  I never thought any fall could be worse than the fall a few years ago, but this one has taken its toll on me.

  Having my “fight” forced into hibernation for the last few weeks, due to getting—of all things—a kissing virus, from a girl, changes one’s perspective. Doing it virtually alone, aside from the essentials I need, being left outside the door, and the daily soup deliveries from “a friend” gives me plenty of time to reflect on my past, how to cope with what my life will become, and how to move forward.

 
Curled up on the huge space heater under the window overlooking the courtyard, I hold my All About The Bean travel mug under my nose and inhale the scent of crappy instant coffee as I watch everyone leave with their families for the Christmas break. It should tug at some sort of heart string inside of me, but my smile comes easily while I watch the very last leaf fall from the trees outside my dorm window. It brings a kind of peace to me that others would probably find disheartening. To me, it’s the opposite.

  The slow way in which the landscape will change over the next few weeks gives just enough time to say goodbye. I don’t need that anymore, though. I’m no longer innocent and definitely no longer naïve. In front of my eyes lays brittle, dying, and dead leaves that are no longer sucking off the life form they were once attached to.

  The dead, no longer a disease to the mighty oak. The brittle leaves soon will either blow away in the wind or disintegrate, becoming part of the earth, and then everything is bare and everything is quiet. Then, unlike the leaves, the snow will fall softly, hugging all the broken around it. It will freeze, it will thaw, and then life begins anew.

  Deep inside of me, I know that is what is going to happen. I’m going to head into my spring, live my summer like it will never end, and then … and then … fall. And each of those happenings, I am going to embrace. I’m going to enjoy all things warm and cozy this winter, while considering who I will blossom into this spring.

  * * *

  Walking down the quiet, empty halls toward the back door, I pass by Heather’s room. Her door is open, and instead of hurrying past it, I keep my pace even.

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “Work,” I say as I continue walking.

  “I thought—”

  “I won’t be back tonight.”

  “You never filled out the paperwork. I’m here until Christmas Eve because your doctor note states you aren’t released until then!” she yells from behind me.

  Standing at the door, I look back at her. “Do whatever you need to do to make it look like that then.”

  “Yeah, so you can go burn down a church this year!” She reaches for me, but I step back.

  “If you think for one second, I’m going to let you put your hands on me, you’re wrong.”

  Her eyes are again wild, but this time, I don’t care.

  “I’m in charge here!”

  “No one’s in charge of anyone but themselves. Have a good night.” I open the door calmly and walk out to my vehicle.

  Sitting in the driver’s seat, I whisper, “Please start. Please start. Please start.”

  When I turn the key, the engine sputters. Afraid I may flood it, I wait and try again.

  God, if You’re really a thing, You’ve shown your hand, and I fold. I think You’re done torturing me. So please just let this thing start and let me go to work. It’s been forever since I’ve had a good cup of coffee.

  It’s me,

  Savvy Sutton

  I turn the key, and again, it sputters. I rest my forehead on the wheel and sigh.

  I promise not to try to prove a point to the men You’ve placed on this earth who treat women like they are lesser, by dressing up the nativity scene. As You well know, I’m far too tired for all this.

  Still me,

  Savvy Sutton

  I turn the key, and again, it sputters.

  “Oh, come on!” I yell and, within seconds, it starts.

  “Thank You.”

  * * *

  I had to practically shove Marcy out the door. She wasn’t about to let me close alone; said I looked like death warmed over. I told her that she was right, but she didn’t look any better. I know she carried my shifts, and although I didn’t work a lot, she was already putting eighty hours a week in, and I didn’t have to be back until Friday; she had to be back bright and early.

  Half an hour before closing, it had been forty-five minutes since we’d had one single customer, she finally caved.

  The first thing I did when she left was crank up the old-school radio, hoping like hell it would give me a little bit of energy, make me feel more like my old self again. It worked. I had everything cleaned and prepped so, when Marcy came in, she would simply have to flip a few switches. I owe her that.

  I look at the clock and see it is two minutes past closing, and if I’m being honest with myself, I am slightly disappointed that a black Jeep didn’t roll into the drive-thru tonight. Because yes, he makes me feel. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt. He makes me feel like I am wanted.

  I haven’t felt wanted. I’ve felt like a burden, since that fall.

  * * *

  Walking down the side of the road, in the dark, winter rain pouring down over me, I am on the verge of tears, and I’m not a crier. But I am cold, and exhausted.

  Why am I walking? The fucking VW wouldn’t start! The keys to The Bean are already dropped into the drop box, so I can’t go back in, and the phone I hate is dead.

  When I see lights behind me, I step aside to make sure whoever the hell it is coming from behind me doesn’t hit me. And when the vehicle slows down then pulls up behind me, I know I should be scared, but I’m not.

  Fuck, I think as I turn around.

  Shielding my eyes from the blinding lights, I yell, “Do what you gotta do!”

  I hear a door shut, and then I see a figure coming toward me. A man.

  “Savannah!” That voice. “Come on; get in the Jeep.”

  My face turns to fire as tears begin to fall. I’m fucking crying, and I can’t move.

  “Just stay back!” I yell at him, but he keeps coming. “Stay away. I’m crying!”

  He doesn’t stop.

  “I said, I’m crying!”

  “You’re soaking wet, you’re sick. Come on, Savvy.” He grabs my hand and hurries us to the vehicle, and I nearly have to run to keep up.

  When we get to the passenger side of his Jeep, I pull my hand free. Then, slapping the tears from my face, I say, “I don’t want you or anyone else to see me.”

  He grabs my hands, pulling them away from my face. “No one’s with me.”

  I feel my chest heavy and attempt to strangle back the cry threatening to escape me.

  Pulling me back to him, wrapping both his arms around me, I feel his breath against my face as he whispers, “It’s okay, Savvy. It’s okay to cry.”

  Standing in the pouring rain, I cry for the first time in years. And for the first time, I’m not doing it in hiding.

  “Savvy,” he whispers against my head. “You’re going to get pneumonia if we don’t get you warm.”

  When he steps back, I immediately wish he hadn’t. I’m freezing.

  “Get in,” he says, and I do so without question.

  He shuts the door behind me, and I lean forward to let the heat blow onto my freezing face.

  A light comes on, and a gust of wind comes from the back. Then the back door shuts, and moments later, Patrick is climbing inside the driver’s seat, with a blanket in his hands. “Here, snuggle up.”

  “Thank you,” I say, quickly pulling it from his outreached hands and burying my face in the soft material.

  “Buckle?”

  Not wanting to pull the blanket from my face, I sit back and allow the blanket to fall to my lap as I reach over and pull the belt.

  Our hands hit as he grabs the blanket.

  “Shit, sorry, ba—” He pauses. “Savvy.” Then he shakes the blanket out, allowing it to open to its full size.

  After I’ve buckled, he drapes the blanket over me, and I immediately bend down and snuggle my face into it.

  A second later, he cranks the heat and pulls out onto the road. “Breathe, Savvy.”

  I have no idea how he can tell I’m holding my breath in the dark while driving, but he does. I have no idea how he of all people found me walking down the road in the pouring rain, but he did. And I have no idea why, when he does a U-turn, when I know we were heading toward the dorms, I don’t care.

  When he turns on
the radio, a song I don’t recognize starts, but I sense he plays it for a purpose, and again … I don’t care.

  “When you're high on emotion, and you're losing your focus, and you feel too exhausted to pray, don't get lost in the moment or give up when you're closest, all you need is somebody to say. It's okay not to be okay. It's okay not to be okay. When you're down and you feel ashamed. It's okay not to be okay.”

  When he slows down and puts his turn signal on, I raise my head. “Where are we going?”

  “My house.”

  “What? No … I can’t … Parents … I—”

  “Just getting back from dropping them off at the airstrip. They won’t be back until Christmas Eve morning.”

  “I can’t be with you there. We—”

  “It’s me or Heather. You’re in a bad place, a bit too fucked-up to make that decision, so I’m making it for you. It’s me.”

  Staring out the window, passing massive oceanfront homes, I feel bitter that they’re hiding the beauty of nature. Normally, I’d say something, wouldn’t hold back, but what good would it do? Does it really matter, anyway?

  Who am I but a fallen leaf …

  When he pulls into the driveway of the biggest house I’ve seen thus far, and I see the parking sign with his name on it, I look over at him.

  As he comes to a stop, he says, “They tend to be over the top at times.” He puts his Jeep in park. “Might be a bit much, but they’ve busted their asses to have what they do, so I won’t apologize for them.”

  “I didn’t ask you to,” I whisper.

  He turns off his Jeep then turns fully in his seat and looks at me. “You look like shit, Savvy.” He reaches over and touches my forehead, something no one has done in years.