Better Late Than Never

by Ghiselle St. James

  My heart aches again at that fact.

  “Sav,” Kyle calls, and I conceal a whimper, looking away from him.

  “Do you want to go with him, Savi?” Grayson asks softly without taking his eyes off Kyle.

  My best friend’s eyes plead with me to say yes. Everyone takes an audible breath as they await my answer; curious anticipation filling the air. I find his eyes. He looks so lost, so weary. My heart reaches out to him, wanting to know what’s wrong, wanting to comfort him; but I pull it back, squeezing the bloody organ in my fist. I’m tired of putting my heart out there for him to stomp on.

  I tug Grayson’s hand, and without a word, we turn away from my favorite person in the whole world, aside from my grandmother.

  “Are you okay, Savannah?” he pleads, the sound of my full name on his lips like a sound of desperation. “Tell me that, at least.”

  I throw him an agonized look over my shoulder and shake my head ‘no’; because who can be okay after having their world shatter like this? Yet…“I’ll be fine,” I tell him, hoping he understands that even though I’m heartbroken, I’ll be alright. I will always be alright.

  And he doesn’t fight me on it.

  Grayson secures my bicycle and then hops with me to the nurse’s office, since I almost bite him for trying to carry me in his arms. As we sit together in the sick bay, the nurse gone to deal with another sick kid, it’s fitting that Grayson would make some stupid joke that would make me want to pee my pants.

  “You’re like a rabid fucking dog, Savi,” he teases, jostling my leg. “I can’t believe you almost bit me. Have you gotten all your shots? Rabies doesn’t look good on me.”

  “You asshole,” I grumble, shoving at his arm before bursting into laughter. I can’t help it when I’m around him. He’s contagious…like a bad cold or a sexually transmitted disease. Or something.

  “Ready to tell me what really happened?” He’s serious now. He knows that something is wrong, the intuitive bastard.

  I bite my lip, not wanting to rehash the image I’d seen, or anything that just happened, but my chest aches, as if Becky’s hand is wrapped around my heart and the little bitch is squeezing it to death. It hurts so badly.

  “Lemme rephrase that,” he says, inching forward in his chair. “What did my fuckhead-of-a-cousin do this time?”

  And that’s when it all pours out of me like that pig’s blood those popular kids poured over that telekinetic chick in that movie.

  Everything comes out. Like Kyle sneaking into my bedroom, me attempting his murder, us almost having sex at his house, and this morning with him acting like he hadn’t promised me the world…you know, the fun stuff.

  “Well, shit, girl,” he blows out.

  “Yeah,” I mutter, looking down at my hands in my lap.

  I feel him staring at me and meet his eyes. This is the first time that I’m seeing Grayson anything other than happy, or horny for that matter.

  “Yeah,” I mutter again because, what can I say? I’m a putz.

  “Listen, he’s the idiot in all of this, okay?” he assures me, as if he had read my mind. “He’s the fuckwad for letting you slip through his fingers not once, but three times. You guys are best friends. That’s his first way in. He doesn’t know how many guys would sell a kidney on the black market just to be friends with you, moreover, to have your lips on theirs.”

  He is rambling.

  And it’s cute.

  “You’re cute,” I whisper out of the blue.

  “And you wound me,” he embellishes with a hand to the chest. “I have been known to be called hot and, on occasion, a God.”

  “God, you’re gross.”

  He waggles his eyebrows in a scandalous way, and I can’t help but laugh my ass off.

  “Why couldn’t it have been you?” I ask, sad again.

  “Because you’re in love with him,” he replies automatically, as if he’s saying the sky is blue.

  “Am I that obvious?” Pretty much.

  “I see a lot of things, Sav,” he says, wrapping his arm around me. “I just wish my cousin could see it, too.”

  Me, too, dude…

  Kyle – Past

  It’s happening again! I’m burning up, but I can honestly say that it isn’t just because of this flu. I’m burning for her; been burning for her ever since we were fifteen years old. This is happening and I’m not stopping it, and neither is Savi.

  Yes!

  I am just about getting lost in our kiss when I hear the sound of the death toll. Talk about bad timing!

  “Pookie?” Becky calls out, but not in her same whiny voice.

  There was a time when I liked that voice – like the times she would cry out my name when I’d plow her. But today, with my lips on Savi’s, I want to hear anything but Becky’s voice.

  She calls out to me again and this time she sniffles. This isn’t like her. And so, I do the worst thing I could ever possibly do, I stop the kiss between Savi and me and I get rid of her, but not before warning her that it was not over between us.

  I just need to make things clear with Becky first. I only hope she leaves my balls intact when she’s through with me. I’ll need it for the things I have planned for Savannah, for what I hope is the rest of our lives.

  Damn, that girl makes my heart go fucking crazy.

  Becky finally finds me in the guest room and the look on her face deflates me and my cock. She looks devastated, and for a moment, I think she has found out about Savi and me. I cup my balls, just in case.

  “Hey babe, what’s wrong?” I venture.

  “Oh, Kyle!” she cries out and falls into my arms, sobbing.

  She cries and cries and I hold her through it all, scared out of my wits. I’m not really used to this; don’t even know what to do with a crying chick. Should I pat her head? Or maybe her boob?

  Her sobs die down eventually, leaving her with hiccups. Her face is red and blotchy, and the front of her blouse is wet with her tears. I can sorta see her bra through the flimsy frilly material, but it isn’t the time to try to cop a feel.

  “Kyle, it’s horrible,” she finally gets out.

  “Talk to me, Becky,” I implore her. “What’s wrong?”

  And then she tells me…boy, does she tell me!

  “Please tell me you won’t leave me,” she begs, and I pause. “I know what you said before, but please.”

  Savi…

  “Please, Kyle,” she pleads. “I know I can be a handful, but I need you. I love you and I just…please.”

  I’d given her “the talk” and she dismissed it, saying she couldn’t talk about it now. For all intents and purposes, I was single, but now after everything she has told me, all of that is through the window. I can’t do that to her. Not now. I hug her and kiss her forehead, making her promises that make my heart ache and a lump form in my throat. Becky starts crying all over again, hanging on to me, and I do the same.

  My mind and heart flashes to Savi and everything in me breaks. I almost tell Becky that I can’t do this right then, but I picture her heartbreak and hold her even tighter.

  I can’t leave her to deal with this on her own.

  I just hope Savi understands…

  She won’t.

  Chapter Seven – He Loves Me, He Loves Me Kinda

  Savi – Present

  BOYD HUGS ME and I am almost creeped out by it, but the guy smells good. So good.

  “Did you just sniff me?” he asks, his voice muffled in my hair.

  “Maybe,” I answer. “Depends on if it’s weird or not.”

  “It’s weird.”

  “Then yes, yes I did.”

  There is a short pause and then we are both laughing. I am drunk, heartbroken, and just a tad bit horny. I should be crying my patheticism (that is a word…my word) into a bottle of Jack right now. God, my life is a mess.

  We pull apart and our laughter slowly dies down. Checking the time on my cell, I hazily read that it is fifteen after one in the morning. Definitel
y time to call it a night.

  Swiping the screen, I put my password in with one try left to spare. I find a number I hope is Grayson’s and tell him to come get me, then lay my head on the bar counter. Grayson and Becky are the only persons I can rely on – the siblings I never had. Well, him and new bestie Boyd, who is handing me another bottle of water.

  He walks around the bar and heads to the door where he locks up. I’m guessing the couple left. He leaves me to my thoughts while he wipes down each table and restocks the shelves.

  I think of the many close calls Kyle and I have had over the years. Never in a million years did I ever think that a reality would exist where we were not together. Even after he chose Becky, Kyle and I could not shake our feelings for each other.

  It was a never-ending cycle of he loves me, he loves me kinda…

  Savi – Past

  It is the day of the Summer Fling, a couple of days since Kyle broke my heart again. He has tried to call me, and I’ve answered, but the asshole has said nothing the two times he has called. So, I have blocked him and deleted his number from my cell phone, not that I have forgotten his number anyway.

  It is two in the afternoon and I am sitting in my room with a vat of chocolate chip ice-cream and watching a marathon of Pimp My Hoard. I swear the hosts are making me want to start a hoard stash of my own. I am almost done with my ice-cream when my bedroom door bangs open. Clutching the empty-ish tub of goodness to my chest, I see Grayson standing in my doorway with a dress bag thrown over his arm and a box in his other hand.

  “My mom is coming to fix your hair and makeup,” he informs me without a greeting, before barging in and laying the bag and box on my bed. “Go shower. You stink.”

  “Um, what are those?” I ask, pointing my spoon at the items he laid at the foot of my bed. “And why’s your mom coming to do my hair and makeup?”

  “Today’s the Summer Fling,” he answers, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

  If he were not related to the evil bastard that I called best friend, I would have found him even hotter than I do right now.

  “So? I’m not goin’.”

  “You are.”

  “Am not,” I argue, snorting my disdain. Ain’t no way am I going to be caught dead near…

  Mid-thought, I am hoisted in the air and cradled in Grayson’s arms. I want to be mad. I should be mad, but he has frightened me so much, the ability to speak has left me.

  Or it could be his muscular arms. I forget…

  “What are you doing?” I finally force out when I see him head in the direction of the bathroom.

  He doesn’t answer, but I feel his arms flex beneath my fingers and I grip his biceps tighter on impulse. His eyes flash but he doesn’t look at me. His focus is singular as he heads into the bathroom and dumps me into the bathtub. I try to scramble up, but not soon enough.

  I release a hellish scream when Grayson turns the water on and a blast of cold shower hits me square in the chest, knocking me back clumsily on my ass. Motherfucker!

  “Grayson!” I shriek, trying to get up but failing. “As soon as I get up and out of this tub, I am kicking your ass all the way back to your momma’s womb!”

  He stands there stoically staring me down and not saying a word. Cold water eventually turns warm and I breathe a sigh of relief as the warmth spreads over and through me.

  I am finally standing, wet as a rat in a thunderstorm. I level a hard stare at Grayson, arms akimbo, but it doesn’t make him flinch. He just stares back at me, eyes dark, breathing labored.

  “Grayson, what in the actual fuck?” I growl.

  His eyes turn to smoldering slits with my growl. I stare at him, anger filling me up, but it slowly begins to ebb away as a different kind of warmth spreads across certain parts of my body while Grayson’s eyes rove over me.

  My nipples stand at attention…because of the water. Yeah, because of the water – and teenage hormones – and then his eyes are there. His lips twitch into a sort of snarl before his jaw flexes. His fingers, which were loose at his side moments before, curl into tight fists, and I’m almost sure I see something in the front of his jeans jolt. Or is it just my imagination?

  I gulp and bite my bottom lip because…shit.

  Grayson reaches forward and tugs on my chin, forcing me to let go of my lip. Nervously, I reach behind me and tug on the end of my hair, hoping I don’t do something stupid – like tell him to take me, or faint.

  Either is possible at this point with my teenage libido.

  “You’re lucky my cousin is in love with you,” he declares ominously, eyes burning me from the inside out. “And you’re lucky I give a fuck that he does.”

  His stormy gray eyes release me from their magnetic hold, as do his fingers from my chin. My doe-eyed gaze follows him as he backs away from me. His fitted jeans with the key chain across the pocket and navy blue and white Henley finally registers. The boy is fine, and it needs to be said.

  “I’m taking you to the dance,” he tells me before I can say anything. It isn’t a request and I’m fine with that.

  “Okay,” I whisper to his retreating back.

  Well, alright then…

  Okay, so here I am, surrounded by all these plebs in their finest and skimpiest threads, drinking bad punch…

  And I am enjoying myself. Who’da thunk it?

  Grayson had bought me a long, dark purple, empire waist dress with a halter top. It made my hair look that much brighter. When I looked in the mirror after his mom got done with my hair and makeup, I stared a little bit too long at myself.

  I was…stunning.

  And I’m hoping that that is why everyone has been staring at me all night, and not because I’ve got a booger hanging from my nose.

  Grayson and I dance like no one’s watching and I must admit that he’s a great dancer. Bad boy to the core, Grayson is wearing dark, stonewashed, fitted jeans, black biker boots, a black V-neck shirt and grey blazer. His hair is slicked back, but a lock falls over his eye that he continuously combs back with his fingers. The boy is hot, no two ways about it.

  We are losing our minds “up in here” – as the rap song blasting through the speakers suggests – but then I see someone walk through the shiny, silver string curtains and I go still. Grayson bumps into me with his latest move then realizes that I have stopped dancing. I feel his hand clasp mine moments later and allow him to lead us back to our table.

  Kyle is here.

  I don’t know why I thought that if I saw him tonight, I would be okay. I’m not, especially with him looking particularly delectable standing at the entrance and looking around as if he’s searching for someone.

  Me?

  My eyes follow him as he makes his way further into the auditorium. Every inch of him is begging for my touch. He is wearing what looks like a matte black suit with a black shirt and dark purple tie, which matches my dress.

  “Did you tell him what I was wearing?” I ask Grayson, still staring at Kyle.

  “Why would I?” he asks right back, and his answer does something to me.

  If Grayson didn’t say anything to him, it means that without even trying, we are in sync and not like the boy band.

  Worried eyes turn to my date and I reach behind me on instinct, trying to grasp the end of my hair as nervous jitters assault me. I come up empty-handed, remembering that Grayson’s mom had put my hair in one of those fancy up-dos. I try to will Grayson to look at me, but his attention is above my head.

  I don’t have to turn around to know who is behind me. His intensity engulfs me.

  “Gray,” his deep voice acknowledges, and tingles shoot across my arms.

  “Cousin,” Grayson says back before standing. “I’m gonna go…anywhere but here.”

  And the asshole just leaves me.

  Kyle doesn’t say anything for what feels like forever, and I don’t turn around to acknowledge him. My heart is beating a mile a minute. Gooseflesh has covered every inch of my body. It almost feels as
if everyone has stopped what they’re doing just to watch our exchange. The eyes at our table are tuning in to the Kyle and Savi show shamelessly, and this seems like it will be an especially juicy episode. The whispers begin in earnest, tickling my ears and gripping my sad heart with their speculation:

  “Why don’t they just get it over with?”

  If only it were that simple…

  “Savannah.”

  His voice wraps around me like a soft, gentle caress. My eyes flutter closed, and I take a deep breath before releasing it.

  Or did I just sigh and swoon?

  “Savannah.” His voice is softer this time, pleading, and I register that this is the second time he has said my full name ever since we met. The second time in a few days.

  It’s weird, an alien word coming from his lips. Yet the moment is so heavy, so rife with feelings of regret and pain that it calls for the use of my full name.

  His warm hand touches my exposed shoulder and I almost melt in my chair. Gasping, I slap my hand on his and turn my head to face him. It’s like Kyle overload. He is everywhere: in this room, right next to me, inside me, taking over my heart, controlling my very soul.

  I want to cry. I want to hit him. I want to kiss him. So much I want to do, but all I can do is stare. He looks as though he is in pain. He looks apologetic. And most of all, with that tousled brown hair of his, he looks damn fucking good.

  “Savannah,” he says my name again and it’s all he says before he is taking my hand firmly and pulling me onto the dance floor. No questions asked. But we never did need words, did we?

  We stand facing each other in the middle of the dance floor, everyone dancing around us, and we just stare. Still feeling the sting from his rejection, I decide to break the silence stretching between us.

  “Where’s Becky?”

  “She’s…at home,” he answers vaguely.