by T. Bester
She’s fucking mad.
“No, but I’m willing to negotiate.” I slide a USB stick across the table.
She frowns. “What’s that?”
“Proof,” I reply. “That you and your friend, Michael Drew, are the ones responsible for the sex tapes, and whatever sick game you guys thought you were playing. It’s your video.”
The furrow between her brows deepens. “What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t know.” It’s a statement, and from the expression on Chelsea’s face, I can see that she really has no idea what I’m talking about, which only makes this so much harder. “Those girls that you all conspired to record, while incapacitated and probably drugged? You’re one of them, except you’re completely lucid.” I let that sink in, and then add, “And I’m assuming you didn’t know.”
“You’re lying, Savannah.”
“I wish I was.” I lower my voice. “But I watched it, and it’s definitely you. In full-color, HD.” Ironically, it’s the only video where it’s possible to identify the girl. “This is the only copy.” I think. “It’s yours if you want it, but only if you leave Nathan the fuck alone and keep my identity to yourself.”
Her confidence wavers. “How do I know you won’t release it anyway?”
“Because I’m not like you, Chelsea.” Suddenly, it’s not only the other girls I feel sorry for. “I want to help the girls on this campus, not have their privacy violated the way you did.” I stand. “And because a video was posted on the paper’s website under Dear Delilah, I might not be able to do that. But you can. Come forward, and for once in your life, think about someone other than yourself.”
Zoey stands, and I follow her out, my heart racing.
“That was so badass,” she tells me. When I don’t return her enthusiasm, she touches my arm. “Hey, you did the right thing, Sav.”
“I hope so.”
23
SAVANNAH
2 weeks later…
I LOOK up from my computer screen just as Toby stops beside me. He hands me a letter, and I frown.
“What’s this?”
“A letter,” he deadpans. “For Delilah.”
I sigh. “Toby, we talked about this, and we agreed that I’m not doing it anymore.”
“I know, but maybe if you read this, you’ll reconsider.”
“I doubt it.”
“Just…read it.”
He walks away, and I stare at the piece of paper on my desk, my fingers itching to open it. Several things have happened in the last two weeks. Since the discovery of the videos recorded by the Sigma Tau Frat house, the students involved were suspended. As hard as we tried to keep it from getting out, it was Chelsea who stepped forward and made a public statement. No names were mentioned, and as far as everyone knows the people responsible took plea deals in exchange for handing over all evidence, including signed confessions about what happened. Included in her statement, Chelsea cleared Dear Delilah of any involvement, and stated that the video posted was done so with malicious intent, the purpose of which was to tarnish the column’s reputation. No one was more surprised than I was, and while I was glad to be absolved of any residual guilt over the matter, I was somewhat apprehensive to continue answering letters. I wasn’t responsible for what happened, I know that, but I was afraid that if I kept doling out advice about the advocacy of female sexual rights, people would hastily come to the conclusion that Dear Delilah somehow advocated for the exploitation of those same rights, that the column would somehow encourage promiscuity and sexual recklessness. It was silly, and unfounded, but it’s a deep-rooted fear that is still very much present in my mind. I miss the letters, and responding to readers, but like everyone else on campus, I’m still shaken by what has been deemed Hudson U’s biggest scandal to-date. So much so that I distanced myself from Nathan. There’s no rational reason for that, and despite pushing him away because of what has been going on in my head, he’s been nothing but supportive, and understanding.
“Hey babe.”
Well, speak of the devil. I turn, and look at him from over my shoulder. “Hi.” I smile, and for the first time in days, it’s not weighted or disingenuous.
“You free for lunch?”
I check the time. I have an hour before my first class. “Just so happens that I do. What did you have in mind?”
“You and me and some ridiculously delicious food in a secluded spot where no can catch me fondling you.”
I giggle, the flutter in my chest rising up my throat. “You had me at ‘food’.”
Nathan grins, and waits for me to grab my things. He threads our hands together, and when we make it outside of the Union building, he doesn’t let go.
“We’re in the visual arts building,” he tells me when I give him a puzzled expression. He doesn’t give me any further explanation and when we walk into one of the studios, I’m even more confused.
His footsteps echo across the hardwood floor, and then he flicks the lights on, illuminating the wide-open space. He leads me over to the center of the room, turning my attention to the strobe lights situated to my right, and the photography equipment beside it.
“Are we allowed to be here?” I ask. “It looks set up for a photoshoot.”
“It’s ours for the next hour,” he replies. “I have a shoot this afternoon, which is why all my equipment is set up, but I wanted some privacy.” He reaches under a table, and pulls out a blanket, laying it on the floor.
“C’mon,” he motions for me to join him. I sit down, and as soon as I’m comfortable, he hands me a pice of paper.
“Toby told me you won’t read it, and I’m here to persuade you to start working on your column again.”
“Nathan.”
“Trust me, Savannah. Please. Read the letter, and then hear me out, okay?”
Between him, Toby and Zoey my resistance is wearing pretty thin.
I open the letter, and start reading.
I look up, and find Nathan smiling at me. “What…”
“I wanted you to know that you gave me the courage to say that,” he says. “And it was time you knew how I feel.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know why you’ve pulled away from me, Sav. These past two weeks has been hard on you, and I see it, but I have to point to make, other than the fact that I’m hopelessly in love with you.” He touches my cheek. “Because of you, I’m not afraid to tell you anything. I’m not afraid to show you every part of me, the good, the bad and the ugly, and because of you, I’ve made peace with the parts of myself that used to scare me.” My heart lurches in my chest at his words, so beautiful and real, I can feel it everywhere. “And your column?” he continues, “It did that for the many girls who read it every week, and looked forward to whatever you chose to write about. So,” he exhales, “I think you should start writing again.”
I swallow, and my mind races with what to analyze first. The part that where he said he’s in love with me, or the fact that he thinks I should start writing the column again.
“I’m not sure,” I reply. Nathan gives me a lopsided grin as if he knows which of his statements I’m referring to.
“I thought you’d say that.”
“Not about the first thing,” I add.
“I know, Sav.”
“That I’m love with you too?”
His grin widens. “I’ve known that for a while.” He moves closer, until we’re tangled together on the floor. “And I will get to that in a minute. What I really want to talk about is Dear Delilah.”
This guy is so weird — lets skip right over the ‘I love you’ and jump straight into the sex column. Coe to think of it, he’s not all that weird at all. Sex is always more important to a guy.
“Why are you so determined to have me writing it again?” I ask, exasperation making my voice raspy. “What if I really don’t want to do it anymore?”
“You don’t believe that, and neither does anyone else. I get that you’re scared, after e
verything that happened with Chelsea with the Sigma Tau Frat house, and I don’t blame you, but I feel like you’re sacrificing more than just an advice column by not writing it.”
“What else am I sacrificing then?” Because clearly, I’m missing something.
“Your voice, Savannah.”
I fiddle with my fingers, and look down at my hands. “I don’t want people to think I’m a fraud, Nathan. I’m not an expert, or an expert at anything for that matter. I’m fumbling around like an idiot half the time, trying to make sense of everything just like everyone else. I’m no one special.”
Nathan tilts my head, his eyes meeting mine. “All those things that you think make you inadequate, are exactly what make you special. And I can tell you now that every girl who writes you a letter, or reads whatever you write about, wants nothing more than someone to say they understand, someone who s just as afraid but takes a risk anyway, and someone who fumbles around right alongside them. Don’t you see, Sav? You gave them the courage to falter, and fall, and then get back up and do it all over again.”
“I wrote about sex, and relationships, Nate.”
“Yes, you did, but you also wrote about embracing who you are, and in the process, you followed your own advice.”
“By own advice do you mean how to give a good blow job?”
Nathan laughs. “Well, that too, and you could write about sex injuries because I had a bruised dick for a week, but you also wrote about the connection between people, and of all the things you can teach someone, creating a meaningful connection with themselves and other people is the most profound thing you can do for the people who are afraid of it.”
“Were you afraid?”
“I was,” he admits. “And when I met you, I was terrified, until I realized that you were just as scared.”
“And now?”
“Now, I’m wondering how I got by without what you and I have, babe.”
God, he makes me swoon. His openness is breath-taking.
“You’re Delilah,” he whispers, his mouth against mine. “Accept it, embrace it.”
“Are you sure you’re not just telling me this because you want to get laid?”
He pulls away, his grin devilish. “Of course I am.”
I slap his arm, and he catches my hand, placing a kiss on my wrist just above the skitter of my pulse. “But, I also want you to be happy, Sav, and I know writing the column makes you happy. It’s a part of you.”
I let out a breath. “And you still want to help me?”
He guffaws. “Like you have another choice.”
I crawl into his lap. “Lucky for you I don’t want another choice.” I kiss him. “Because I’m in love with you too.”
“Thank God,” he cries, making me laugh. “It would have been really awkward if you didn’t, after that awesome speech I just gave.”
“You’re such a dork.”
“I know,” he signs, smiling at me. “But you love me.”
“I do. And I think your speech worked.”
“Good. Start writing again, babe. Be happy.”
“I am.”
I steal another kiss, making it last, allowing Nathan’s presence and warmth to fill me. He’s been right about so many things, and sometimes it still surprises me that he knows me so well, but he does, and I’ve come to accept it, no matter how frightening.
But because of him, I’ve also decided to accept one other thing too.
That I am Delilah.
And Delilah is me.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book represents the end of one chapter in my life, and the beginning of another, and without the help of some very special people, I would have stopped writing this book. So, to my beta team - you know who you are! - THANK YOU, for always taking the time to read while I write, and give me your feedback. It means more to me than I can say.
To my #authorbestie, Ashleigh. You’re stuck with me. And I love you. So there.
To my editor and most importantly, my friend, Chante, WE SURVIVED, and the Lord knows there’s no way in Hell I would have made it through the last 18 months without you. Your unconditional support has meant so much to me these past few months, and I am truly grateful for the person that you are. There is no one else I’d rather be standing with the day we get those (very expensive) pieces of paper that say ‘GRADUATE 2019’.
To my publicist Linda, at Foreword PR, THERE ARE NO WORDS for how grateful I am to have met you when I did, and for your continued support, patience and understanding. We have spoken about what the end of this book means, and I am tremendously thankful that you have allowed me to be open and honest, without prejudice or judgement. THANK YOU <3
A special thanks goes out to my girl Shanora Williams, who has become a very dear friend. You have given me so much over the last few weeks, and you will never know how much it means to me. LOVE YOUR FACE.
And lastly, to my readers, who have stuck with me during some really tough times and when I’ve gone quiet, or taken forever to write a new book. I appreciate you all, and count my lucky stars every day that you have allowed me to live this dream for 4 crazy years, and I know that whatever happens next, you will be there to support me. THANK YOU.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tamsyn Bester is a Publishing student at the University of Pretoria in South Africa, and Dear Delilah is her 9th full length novel. She loves to read and write and when she’s not dreaming of imaginary worlds, she can be found spending time with her friends and her family and more often than not, watching One Tree Hill on the couch with her 3 fur babies, Benji, BamBam and Denver.
Stalk me on social media
www.tamsynbesterwrites.com
ALSO BY TAMSYN BESTER
Beneath Your Beautiful
Begin Again
Precious Consequences
Destined to Fall
The Lined Between
Blurred Lines
Playing Pretend
Come Back to Me
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Table of Contents
1. Savannah
2. Nathan
3. Savannah
4. Nathan
5. Nathan
6. Savannah
7. Savannah
8. Savannah
9. Savannah
10. Nathan
11. Savannah
12. Savannah
13. Savannah
14. Savannah
15. Savannah
16. Savannah
17. Savannah
18. Savannah
19. Savannah
20. Savannah
21. Savannah
22. Savannah
23. Savannah
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Tamsyn Bester
