Tricked Steel: A Friends To Lovers Standalone Romance

by Fields, MJ

  “Maybe we are,” I sneer.

  “Really? Because you were the one who was insistent my roommate—”

  “That’s different. Had I seen you first, I wouldn’t have even looked in her direction.”

  She silently laughs. “Oh, please. She’s beautiful.”

  “Not past the surface. Not yet, anyway.”

  “What’s not yet anyway mean to you?”

  “Means what it means, Savvy. You’ll be the one to change her. You’re already doing it.” I push back my chair and stand up. “We have plates to make. Let’s do this.”

  Chapter 18

  “Yes I deserve a spring-

  I owe nobody nothing.”

  ~Virginia Woolf

  Savvy

  When I first came here, I hated the monotony of every day. I craved the things I used to almost despise—the constant move disguised as an adventure.

  Now I get anxious when my morning text from “Trisha” doesn’t come at around 7:30. I get worried at nine at night when I’m working if he doesn’t come for a cup of coffee. It’s so bad that, even when I have just left a class, knowing he is in fact here at school, if he’s not in before the bell, I wonder if he’s coming at all.

  It’s not just that I obviously have a major crush—like major—it’s also that there is a lot going on with his family, and then there’s the business his family owns, and a new artist that they are working with who seems to need his attention, a lot.

  Devina Silvers.

  He says she drives him crazy, that she messages him through social media nonstop, always questioning the way Forever Four is marketing her, and do you think that’s what my fans, the ones of our generation, would want?

  I am pretty sure I hate her and her little dog, too. Like seriously, get a rescue pup, bitch.

  Not that I do Hallmark holidays, but on Valentine’s Day, she monopolized his time. I was pissed at myself that it bothered me.

  But, at eight thirty at night, I was called downstairs to grab a package. Everyone who saw me looked all too curious. That bothered me, too, and it had been a couple months since I had let them get under my skin. Why? Because Patrick said that’s why they do it—to get a reaction. He dealt with the same shit on social media, and he learned that, if he ignored it, then it didn’t fuck up his flow.

  When I brought the package upstairs and opened the box wrapped in brown paper, it was a spade, some gardening gloves, and three bags of bulbs with the label, “Snowflake bulbs,” on it.

  Underneath those items, that really, really were thoughtful and amazing, was his phone. He had gotten a new one and had tried to give it to me at school, because the glass on mine was now chipping. I told him to give it to someone else. He told me it was his, and he could give it to whoever he wanted to. I told him I wouldn’t accept charity from him. He saw his way around it.

  There was a sticky note on it that said:

  Happy Valentine’s Day,

  XXX

  Trisha.

  I laughed so loud it dragged Chloe from the bathroom.

  When she saw the box, she cried. “I think I want to be a lesbian, too. Men just don’t get it.”

  “You can’t choose to be a lesbian. You’re either born that way or you’re not. But you can choose to like girls; that’s what I did.”

  That was the first time I admitted it out loud.

  “Wait—you like boys, too?”

  I shrugged. “To me, it’s more about the person.”

  “Then open up your eyes!” she yelled. “Patrick Steel is gaga over you.”

  I clamped my hand over her mouth. “Shut up.”

  She pushed it away. “Seriously, Savvy, he’s … so damn sexy.”

  “You would know.” I shook my head and sat down then pulled out the phone.

  “You know, your idea of being celibate for a few months to connect with myself, find my center?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I found it. I may be a slut, but I’m okay with it. How’s that for centering?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, and I laughed harder than I think I ever had.

  “I’m serious, Savvy.”

  After getting myself together, I shook my head. “You own it. It’s on your terms. Do you, Chloe. But don’t call yourself a slut.”

  “Be a ho, be a sexual being, own it, but slut’s a bit harsh.”

  She and I are as close, maybe closer, than any other girls here now. I’m pretty sure it’s because we realize we’re both growing, changing, and becoming who we are supposed to be.

  The realization that my fight to unite women so that we can become stronger is lost on ears that have yet to understand what it’s like to be truly powerful.

  Patrick says I’ll find my tribe, my crew, that the less I scream, the more I’m heard.

  * * *

  We only have a month before the fundraiser. Tickets sold out, and the waitlist is so long we had to change venues and add more plates.

  This has become a passion project. It has consumed me, just as the community garden did the last summer of my last life. But, unlike the garden, it wasn’t an escape from the reality that she was dying. With this, it’s nearly consumed me. I feel almost compelled by it.

  Patrick tried to be helpful, he did, but we both quickly realized that pottery is not his thing. He felt bad, I could see it in his eyes, and I assured him that he shouldn’t feel any worse about it than I do, because I can’t play a guitar or sing.

  “Straight up, Savvy, you’ve become my sounding board for everything going on in my life. Just wanna show you that I’m here for yours, too.”

  “You want honesty, so you’ll get it. Just try not to take offense to what I’m about to say.”

  “Is it going to be something along the lines that you spend more time fixing my fucked-up pieces than making yours masterpieces?”

  I try not to laugh, I really do, but he is spot-on.

  “Then you’re gonna have to deal with me sitting here, watching you work.”

  “I’m sure you have better things to do. In fact, I know you do.”

  “Front row seats for the Savvy show. Gonna be here whenever I can.”

  “Then do it from a distance. I need to focus.”

  “Do I distract you, Savvy Sutton?”

  Without looking up at him, I answer, “I think you know you do.”

  Tonight is the last night of the play that his cousins are in. He asked me to go, and I told him that I was busy—work then plates.

  Five hundred plates may not seem like a lot, but making them by hand is time consuming. After the written plan was approved by the art department, we had three months. With three months to complete five hundred plates by hand, I set a rigorous schedule. It wasn’t a great time of year for all those who wanted to be part of that, some just to have the volunteer hours, and so they quickly stopped showing up, while others had to study for finals. That was something I never considered when I was wallowing in my own misery.

  God, if You’re really a thing, I know I may seem ungrateful and a huge pain in the ass at times, but thank You for making me smart. And also, as miserable of a trip as it was to get where I am right now, if it never gets any better, and even if it gets worse, thank You for giving me this.

  It’s me,

  Savvy Sutton

  Back to the plan. Forty plates from clump to kiln takes about seven days. Thankfully, Chloe has realized she likes to paint, and Ziggy and Roach come back after they’re high to help where they can, too.

  Tonight, I use my key to get in to finish a few up after my shift.

  I miss catching a buzz. When this is done, I’m going to have a get-together at the lake. It’s not lost on me that my anxiety has lessened. And for that, I’m grateful, too.

  It’s late when I pull into the parking lot and see a Jeep at the boys’ dorm parking lot. I’m pretty sure is Patrick’s.

  I shoot him a text.

  11:01 p.m. - Hey, are you at McKinley?

  11:02 p.m. - SAVANN
AH!! I am and probably going to stay here. Had a few too many. Unless you wanna ride me home?

  11:02 p.m. - That’s probably not going to happen.

  11:03 p.m. – Shit, Savvy. Fucking phone, or is it fat fingers? I meant, give me a ride home.

  11:03 p.m. - If you need one, yeah, of course. Come out.

  11:03 p.m. - Come chill for a minute?

  Fuck it, I think and park my vehicle.

  11:05 p.m. - Give me a few minutes. I’ll be over.

  I make quick work of signing in, changing into a hoodie and leggings that don’t smell like burritos, reading Chloe’s note that she’s at McKinley, and then slip out the back door.

  As I’m walking across the quad, I see who I immediately know is Patrick, based on size, stature, and that hair—he truly has the best hair—leaning against the building.

  “Hey!” I yell to him.

  He raises a hand and steps … oops, nope, stumbles.

  Shit, this is a side of Patrick I haven’t seen—intoxicated Patrick.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “Trust me”—he shakes his head—“that’s not a place you and I need to chill. I’d rather sit in shit than hang out there and see how that unfolds.”

  He starts walking to the parking lot, and I follow him.

  “A little less cryptic?”

  “Chloe showed up.” He digs around in his pocket.

  “And?” I ask.

  “The three of them started talking about becoming Seashore’s first thrupple.”

  “How fucked up is she?”

  “She?” He laughs. “She’s been there twenty minutes. Sober as a judge. They, on the other hand, are high as fuck.”

  “Well, then I think we should go back in there and stop that from happening.”

  “You gonna grab a cold pail of water and break that up?”

  “Are they already …?” I pause. “Oh my God, were you watching them?”

  “Shit, Savvy.” He looks at me like he’s offended. “You really think that little of me?”

  “No?”

  “Are you saying no like it’s a question? Like you’re unsure? I mean, porn’s cool to watch sometimes, but that? Really?” He scowls.

  “I’m just trying to figure out what to do.”

  “Just be a Beatles and … Let. It. Be.” He hits the unlock on his key fob and starts to open the door.

  “Um, hello? Drunk Patrick, where are you going?”

  “To sit in the Jeep, chill with you for a little bit, try to sober up, maybe pass out and wake up with that mess swiped from my memory.”

  “Okay, fine, you can’t sit in the driver’s seat. Someone gets a bug up their ass and calls the cops, you could get in much bigger trouble. Give me the keys.”

  He hands them to me then stands there, smiling.

  “Patrick, go get in the passenger side.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  “It’s also a warm one,” I mumble as I climb in his Jeep.

  Once he’s in, he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Started out as a chill night, and then I entered the sexual Twilight Zone. Started out as a nice, chill conversation about their future pot farm, and then she showed up talking about working for them.”

  “I really feel like I should go drag her out of there.”

  “I really don’t think you could.” He laughs.

  “She’s gonna regret this.”

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

  “Someday, she will.”

  “Do you regret any of your sexual experiences?”

  I shrug. “I guess not.”

  “Good to know.” He nods then shakes his head. “You mind cranking the heat?”

  “It’s, like, sixty out,” I say as I start it, gaining a lot of satisfaction from it firing on the first try.

  He pulls his phone out and looks at it. It annoys me. I bet it’s her.

  Devina Silver.

  When he starts typing back, while I’m sitting here, I get annoyed.

  “Let me go get the bus and take you home.”

  He looks at me, his head cocked. “You pissed at me?”

  “I mean, no, but I didn’t come over here to sit here and watch you message your newest whatever she is.”

  He drops his phone in his lap and turns toward me. “Got something else in mind?”

  That voice … got deeper. A lot deeper, and huskier, too.

  “If you make your first move after getting worked up about a text or my roommate that you had sex with—”

  “Technically, Chloe had sex with me. She’s got some control issues. Requires top. She also says some filthy shit. Filthy isn’t sexy. I suppose, when you’re in a relationship for, like, twenty years, you could role play to spice shit up. But no, not at all my jam. And I’ve watched my share of porn. Her shit could make a porn star blush. Terrible acting, though. And—”

  “I swear to God, Patrick Steel, if you’re about to star rate a hookup, I’m going to kick you out of your own vehicle and run over you one limb at a time until you realize how ridiculous that is or cry uncle.”

  He shrugs. “My bad. Just trying to prove a point.”

  “And what point is that exactly?” I cross my arms.

  He shrugs then rests his head against the seat, looking my face over.

  “What?”

  “I’m not gonna ask you to kiss me.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “You said make my first move. That would be my first—a kiss. But when I do it, I’m not gonna ask if I can.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I’m not going to ask to hug you or hold you either, Savvy Sutton. I’ll know when you’re ready for that, just like I did that night on the road.”

  I feel my face begin to heat up.

  “I’m done asking you to go places with me. Truth be told, it hurts a bit when you say no, even though I know you will. And I get it. There’s a lot of things going on in my world, and this bubble with just you and me is comfortable and, at the same time, it can be suffocating.”

  “Patrick, I—”

  “It’s cool, Savvy. But still, sometimes it sucks.”

  His phone rings throughout the vehicle.

  He looks at the screen and taps it to answer. “Who is this?”

  I look at the screen. It says: Asshole #1.

  “Steel, your cousins are at my place; lost their keys. Come get them, or I’m calling the cops.”

  “Straight up, Easton, you better check yourself with them, be on your best fucking behavior, because you don’t, you get me. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

  Tobias’s tone doesn’t change when he says, “I got shit to do tonight, and you know it.” Then Tobias hangs up.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck are they doing?” he says while he searches through his phone for something and running his hand over his face. “You know where Easton lives?”

  “No, but apparently, you do.”

  He looks from his phone. “What makes you think that?”

  “Whatever shit that’s going on tonight that you know about,” I say, hiding the bitterness.

  Shaking his head as he looks through his phone, he tells me, “Got an invite from that fucking app for some fight.”

  “So, now you’re hanging out with them?” I ask, shocked, because I know Gabrielle and Harrison have been assholes to Kiki and Truth.

  “Fuck no. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer kind of deal.”

  He hits a few more buttons.

  “And you gotta message your uncle that his daughter is going to pick you up because you’ve been drinking, so she doesn’t get into some trouble. Fucking JT was supposed to be on this tonight. Last-minute decision to head to the city. Legit texted me after I’d been drinking. Thought they’d be chill tonight.

  “And send.” He rolls his neck like he’s getting ready to go into a fight then rubs his hand over his face. “Now, where the hell are you two?” he asks, looking
over his screen.

  “Do you have them tracked or something?”

  He lifts a shoulder. “We all have each other on this thing. That way, if we need something, we know who to call who’s closest.”

  “That’s just wrong, you know.”

  “Nothing wrong with being safe.” He nods once. “Bingo. It’s T and Brisa, and they’re … not together. Brisa’s by the ocean.”

  “I heard Tobias has a place there.”

  “You wanna get us there? Because she’s fifteen, and he’s about to be half dead and wishing he was all the way fucking dead.”

  “I don’t know if I—”

  “I may have given you a head trip before all this, but forget everything I said. I know where I stand. We’re buds, so be a bud, Savvy. I won’t ask for anything like this again.”

  I put my seat belt on. “Could you buckle?”

  “Yeah,” he says, trying to call one of them. He gets no answer. He’s worried.

  Pulling out on the road, I tell him, “I don’t think Tobias would have called you if he had any ill intentions.”

  “Thanks, but I’m gonna have to see that for myself.”

  “Of course.”

  He’s being short. He’s being cold. I hurt him.

  He’s looking out the window, rubbing his head.

  “You okay?”

  “Will be.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “No.”

  “Good, because I …” I stop when the phone rings, and he taps accept.

  “What in the hell have you two gotten yourselves into?” he asks almost playfully, yet there is still a hardness to his tone.

  “Hey, Patrick, we found the keys. No need to come get us.”

  He whispers to me, “Turn around.”

  To them, he says, “Good fucking thing. I’m fucked up, and Savannah here doesn’t wanna drive my Jeep.”

  I never said that.

  One of them laughs. “Text us your address, and we’ll come get you.”