by Fields, MJ
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to keep my cool.
“We were hungry, so we shared a couple brownies.”
“Savvy, what the hell were you thinking?”
“Leave her alone,” Truth croaks out, sounding like her mouth is full of cotton.
Savvy pouts. “How was I supposed to know she’s never been fucked up?”
“I’ve been White Claw wasted,” Truth groans. “I need beer.”
“The hell you do.” I laugh, because Truth is amusing. Savvy? I don’t even know what to think right now.
“That the cops?” someone says from behind me.
“Fuck! That’s the cops, man,” someone else freaks the fuck out.
Being sober, I check out the lights. “Chill. There’s like three sets of headlights. If three cop cars are rolling in, I’m gonna guess we’re fucked anyway.”
Another guy I don’t know says, “Nah, man, that’s not the cops; that’s the boys. It’s fucking payday.”
“I wanna go home,” Truth groans, trying to move.
“Yeah, that shit’s not happening, Sally Stoner. Stay put, sleep it off.”
“Help me up,” Truth whimpers out, flailing her hands in the air, and Savvy, eyes closed, starts petting her hair and singing some sort of lullaby. It’s cute as fuck, and yeah, I snap a picture to add to the collection I’m amassing. Still, after tonight, I’m thinking Savvy and I should never be around each other drunk again. I mean, she’s worse, but … still.
“I don’t want the cops to catch me, Patrick. I don’t want them to,” Truth whines.
“It’s not the cops; it’s those fucking assholes.” Savvy’s late to the fucking game reaction time is clearly delayed as she jumps up. “Who told them we were here?”
“Gotta get paid, Savvy. Been a fucking week.”
“Couldn’t you have waited one more fucking day? Jesus, this place is sacred! A paradise hidden from the capitalists. You assholes just invited the enemy here.”
“Calm down, Savvy,” comes from behind me.
“Fuck you, Harry.” Savvy lunges, and I easily catch her … again.
“Harrison is here?” Truth tries to push herself up.
Savvy snaps, “Yeah. Now this place is—”
Harrison sighs, “Savvy, your drama is daunting. Save it.”
“You shut the fuck up,” I sneer at him as I carry her away, in a fucking football hold.
From behind me, I hear Truth tell him, “I’m joining the revolution. Fuck capitalism.”
“I like her,” Savvy sighs. “I’d like to keep her. But you brought her here, and now she’s gonna think I’m a freak.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not alone.” I drop her ass in a chair, and she looks around me.
“Tricks, he’s got your cousin between his legs!” Savvy yells.
“No need to worry, Patrick. She’s between mine; I’m not between hers.”
“He’s the worst, Patrick. Save her.” Savvy yawns then repeats, “Save her.”
In the distance, I hear a voice warning, “Money man is here and coming in hard, too.”
I look back and see Harrison trying to feel Truth up. I sprint toward them, yelling her name.
Truth jumps up, stumbles, and instead of kicking his ass, I catch her.
“At some point, I’m going to grow tired of this little cat and mouse chase you seem to enjoy, Miss Steel, and then it may be too late.”
“You better get the fuck out of my line of sight now!”
From behind us, I hear Easton say, “Cops are on their way. Get the fuck out.”
“What the fuck are you bringing trouble to our lake for?” Savvy slurs from behind us.
Tobias points at Savvy. “Jesus, Savvy. Someone get her the fuck out of here, or she’ll end up in jail again.”
“None of us can fucking drive, man!” someone yells.
“Then throw your illegal shit and take a trespass ticket.” He storms toward me and holds out his hand for Truth.
All hell breaks loose, and somehow, I am shoving Truth at Tobias. “Take her with you!”
“No!” she yells back.
“You’re so fucked up right now, Truth, I’m not cool with you getting in trouble.” I look at Tobias, and he nods.
“I wanna stay with you!” Truth yells as Tobias throws her over his shoulder. “Patrick! Dad, Mom, Justice, are going to—”
“I’m not saying shit. Go to his place. Toss me your phone.”
“No!”
Tobias opens the door to an old Ford Bronco and drops her inside.
I run over and grab her phone. “You’ll be fine, T. No one will know. Just sleep it off until I can get there.”
I look at Tobias as T starts to cry. “I’m fucking trusting you with part of my family.”
“Get Savvy out of here.”
“Truth, I’ll see you soon.” I turn then head to where Savvy is stumbling and call over my shoulder to Truth, “Love you! You’re fine.”
I sprint to Savvy and scoop her up, not slowing down at all. As we hit the edge of the woods, I see lights behind me. “Put your head into my neck to shield your eyes and don’t fucking move.”
“Where’s Truth?”
“Tobias got her out,” I say as I blindingly push past branches.
She makes some sort of bird noise, and I’m about to ask her if she has a mental health diagnosis when someone else makes a similar one.
“Follow that noise,” she whispers.
As soon as we get to them, she slides down, and then we see flashlights and hear the cops using a bull horn or some shit. “Come out with your hands up.”
“Fuck,” Roach whispers.
Everyone here is fucked up. I’ve had a couple of drinks and am pretty sure they’ve worn off.
“Anyone else sober?” I whisper.
“Ant, Flea, and—”
“Tick?” Savvy asks. Serious as shit, too.
“No, but we should have thought of that,” someone says.
“Always time to change it,” one of them suggests.
“Okay, shut up. Who’s sober and who’s legal?”
“We’re sober and legal.”
I want to ask them why the fuck they’re here then.
“I’m gonna cut you, Roach,” Savvy hisses.
“You’re going to shut the hell up,” I snap, because I’ve had enough shit for one night.
“Rude,” she whispers.
“Just my vehicle, Savvy’s, and the three sober dudes with insect names rode together?” I ask.
“Sounds right,” someone says.
“Chloe, call Heather as soon as the four of us walk out. Have her cover for Savvy. Tell her that the van broke down, and that’s why it’s here. You guys stay put until the cops are here, then either have Heather get someone to give you a ride or wait a couple hours till one of you sobers up then get your asses back to the dorms.”
“I’m sober,” Chloe says.
“Then we can just get ticketed and—”
“You can’t do shit,” I cut Savvy off. “Easton was adamant. So, could you possibly do what I said and fucking trust me?”
“Possibly.”
“Not fucking good enough, Savvy.”
The lights get closer, and the cops call out again.
“Fine,” she hisses.
“Good,” I hiss back.
* * *
I look around the cell and try to decide whether to just stand here or take the chance of catching some shit and try to get some sleep.
I decide to stand.
“You change your mind about calling your folks or your uncle?” one of the cops asks a-fucking-gain.
“No need to freak my folks out when they’re away, and no need to wake anyone up because I decided to have a drink.”
“Also, no need to sit here when you have someone who can get you out of here.”
“Actually”—I laugh—“looks like I’m standing.”
Never knew I could sleep while standing, but I did, off a
nd on, all fucking night.
* * *
Uncle Cyrus got a call at seven this morning and was down here, panicking at 7:05. I assured him that Truth was fine and gave him the address. He was so pissed that he didn’t talk to me, but he did send a text, letting me know she was fine.
I feel like shit for making him worry, but just as shitty for what Truth’s going through.
I called my parents and explained the situation. Mom was pissed that I didn’t call. Dad was pissed that the cops didn’t just bring me home. Then they said they would be home in as little as five hours. I told them not to. I actually insisted they get Divina under control or kill the contract, because I wasn’t going to continue handling her when she obviously either didn’t trust my parents or wanted my attention. I’m a hundred percent sure it is the latter, but I’m still tripping on Savvy.
I showered and planned to spend the entire weekend in bed. And I was just about to sleep when I got a message alert.
7:49 a.m. - I went to get coffee and came back. I think you’re home. If you are, I’m in your driveway and would like to offer you a ride to get your Jeep, and an apology.
7:50 a.m. - Go home and get some sleep. I’ll catch a ride later from someone.
The doorbell rings within seconds, and I hit the security app on the phone to see who it is, even though I already know.
7:51 a.m. - Please let me at least say I’m sorry.
7:51 a.m. - You did. We’re good. And me, too. I’m gonna try to catch some ZZZZZs. Chat later.
The doorbell rings again, and I look at the security camera app. She looks like the walking dead.
Annoyed as fuck because I want to make sure she’s okay, but I know I’m too tired, confused, and pissed off to deal with her properly, I still punch in the code to unlock the door as I get up.
Truth is that the Jeep got towed, and I don’t want her to feel like shit, but I don’t feel like making this okay for her either. Yet, here I am, walking down the stairs to let her get it off her chest.
I open the door, and her shoulders lift as if she hasn’t taken a breath in a solid five minutes, and when she exhales, her whole body shakes. Then, her voice doesn’t just crack, it shatters when she says, “Sorry.”
I lean against the door frame and nod. “Shit happens, Savvy.” I have to grip the fucking doorjamb to stop myself from dragging her inside.
She nods and thrusts a cup of coffee at me, her hands shaking so badly that she drops it. Then she covers her face and cries as she squats down to pick up the travel mug from The Bean. I grip her shoulders and pull her up. Unable to say anything, she taps her fingers to her chest, sniffs, and starts to turn.
Logic tells me to let her go, but my heart tells me she can’t fucking drive like this. So, I reach out, take her hand, and pull her back.
When she turns around and looks at me, I nod toward the house. She shrugs then uses her sleeve to wipe her eyes then under her nose.
I walk in the house, holding her shaking hand, and she shuts the door behind us.
“Give me a minute?” She sniffs. “I don’t want to tell them I’m sorry until I can do it without looking like this.”
“You thought my parents were home?” I ask, a bit shocked because of the whole doorbell ringing before nine on a Saturday morning and the whole parents thing.
“They’re not?” she asks then sniffs.
“No.” I turn and walk toward the stairs. “I need sleep, and so do you. I don’t want to talk about shit. I wanna sleep.”
“My shoes.” She sniffs.
“Kick ’em off.”
As soon as we hit my bedroom, she shrugs off her coat and pulls off her hoodie. Then she slips in my bed and shimmies around a bit. Her socks and leggings come out from under the covers.
Savvy’s in my bed, in a tiny-ass tank top, braless, as per her norm, and underwear. Well, I think she has on underwear. And then it dawns on me—that’s all I have on, too.
Fuck it. I hit the blinds, and they close, and then I slide into bed.
Lying on my back, I stay on one side, but she doesn’t. Her head goes to my chest, her arm across my waist, and her leg over mine. She’s still shaking, too.
“Savvy, what are you—”
“You said you’d know when I was ready to be hugged or held.” She sniffs. “So, in case you forget or couldn’t tell, because I’ve been a mess, because everything I thought was progress for the first time, I’ve ruined … I’m showing you I am.”
“Savvy …” I sigh.
“Tell me to leave, and I’ll go.”
I don’t say a fucking thing, and I don’t think it’s because I shouldn’t tell her to go. I know I should. I just can’t.
“I understand if you’re not ready. I understand that you may never be. But I can’t sleep, and I can’t eat, and I could really use a friend right now.”
Chapter 21
"There is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind."
~Virginia Woolf
Savvy
I woke up warm, calm, and feeling grounded for the first time in weeks. I knew I didn’t deserve those feelings, but I chose to be selfish.
I would lie here forever, watching him sleep, and I would have lay here a thousand more forevers, if allowed.
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask when he finally opens his eyes.
He inhales deeply, his sleepy eyes staring into mine, as if searching for an answer, one I think we both know we will never get.
Not in this lifetime.
He grips my waist, a tender gesture, one of comfort that I’m sure we both need.
I’m not sure when he pushed his arm under and around me. I assume it was one of the times he adjusted his positioning while we slept.
His response is a simple head shake—no.
Without thinking, without permission, and without apology, I kiss his chest, causing his whole body to tense, and then I lay my head upon that spot, the spot above his heart that I just kissed, hoping to seal it there forever.
He exhales and kisses the back of my head, and I know I’ll remember that for just as long.
My body’s response is to immediately press against him firmer, and his hips move ever so slightly in reaction.
I try to lie still, but something inside me begins to hum, and my nipples begin to tighten, pressing against the thin fabric of my tank top, as a sweet ache begins to pulse deep inside of me.
With his arm stretched across his body, he begins to very softly run his fingertips up and down my bare arm at a nice, slow pace, as if he’s attempting to calm me.
I try and fail at an attempt to keep still, but something inside me won’t allow it. That something carries the same soft vibration, a hum through every cell of my being.
My fingertips itch to trace the hard planes of his chiseled abdomen, and they do, slowly tracing the dips and turns like a finger on a map that follows the path to the deep V leading to his waistband. He grips my bicep, and I reach for it and, with ease, place his fingers over my lips. He immediately begins to trace them as I press my lips against them in a soft kiss, one right after another.
His chest vibrates in a silent, strained reserve, and I feel my body absorb that energy, fueling the flame slowly burning deep inside my core. Then the sweet ache builds, and I feel wetness pool, slickening my insides, as if readying me for what’s to come, what I so desperately want.
He lifts my chin, and our eyes meet for just enough time to inform each other, to give permission to each other, to communicate wordlessly the desire that has us both burning, a desire not built on a physical level but a spiritual one. Yet, he is hesitant.
“I want this,” I whisper. “We want this.” I press a kiss to his shoulder, his neck, and then move to his other shoulder, while I stretch my leg across him so I am lying on top of him. For the first time, I feel his cock, hard and pressed against my wet core.
“Tell me what you want, Savvy.”
“You.”
“
I think we both know you have me, Savvy,” he says with a tinge of resentment in his voice.
“And I think we both know you have me, too.”
He pushes up on his elbows, causing me to move back a bit. “You deserve someone to hold your hand while walking down the fucking street, you deserve to be taken out to dinner, you deserve all the pretty shit that comes before this.”
“And we both know we’re past all that, and we’re ready—”
“You’re asking me to fuck you, Savvy, when it’s more than that with us. You and I both know that.”
“We’ve had so many dates. We used to meet at The Bean three times a week. We’ve done holidays together, passed on each other’s traditions to one another. We used to sit in class and talk more than any two people I’ve ever witnessed talking to each other, and not trivial, meaningless banter. We don’t need a label. We don’t need anyone to ‘ship’ our relationship. We don’t need the things that others do, Patrick.”
He sits up, our faces but a breath between us. “I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
“Then do it.”
“You have no fucking idea how badly I want you, have wanted you … but—”
I press my lips against his and whisper, “Please don’t stop wanting me.”
He wraps his arm around me and flips me onto my back. Hovering over me, I can see him trying to stop the inevitable. His eyes darken, and he groans … before giving in and sealing his lips over mine.
I was expecting something so much different. Shocked at how soft his firm lips feel on mine, and the gentleness in the pressure against them, I sigh, and he dips his tongue inside my mouth, tasting me in slow, long licks. Just like everything about Patrick Steel, his kiss is confident and holds just a slight amount of aggressiveness that I haven’t ever experienced. And now I know I never want to experience a kiss any other way.
The heat growing inside of me has multiplied. Never in my life have I felt this wet, this much need.
I didn’t realize my hands had left my sides until I knot my fingers in his thick, silky strands, using them to pull him closer, wanting—no, needing—him to deepen the kiss.