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savannah

“Happy birthday to you.”

“Bite the cherry and make a wish,” Chloe says.

I laugh at the silly request but pluck the cherry from my milkshake, tap it against Leo’s, and wish for the same thing I’ve wished for since I was thirteen years old.

I wish my mom was here.

As an adult, I know it’s stupid. I know I’m wasting my breath on something that can never come true but there’s this tiny part of me that feels like if I change my wish now, she’ll know.

Like if I simply wished for the best night out or for a successful career that it somehow means I’ve stopped thinking about her.

I’ve spent years in therapy, blaming myself and feeling every emotion under the sun.

I spent weeks in the darkest hole of sadness, uncontrollable sobs racking my body until my stomach would heave.

I moved on to an irate level of rage where nothing or no one was safe from my verbal, and sometimes physical, assaults.

When I moved on to feeling nothing, when days passed by and the only thing I was aware of were the aches in my body from staying horizontal in bed—not eating, not speaking—was when my dad was finally able to convince me to talk to someone.

Suffice to say I spent years working through my grief, but some things—like my birthday wish—I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go of.

“Happy birthday, you two.” My dad wraps an arm around me, pulling me into a side hug.

“Thanks, Dad,” Leo and I say in unison as he hands us both a thick envelope.

We exchange a glance with each other, knowing that we’ll find twenty-one, one-dollar bills inside our respective birthday cards.

A tradition our mom started and our dad continued.

I think it makes him feel better. It’s one small thing he can always to do, and probably like my fear of letting go of my birthday wish, he’ll be sticking singles in our cards even when we’re in our forties.

“What do the two of you have on your agendas for tonight?”

I look across the table to Leo, silently telling him to fess up to his plans first. But instead, he sucks down his milkshake and grabs his head, pretending to get a brain freeze. I roll my eyes at his low-budget acting job.

“Chlo and I are going to the bar down the street from our apartment and using my real ID for the first time.”

“Proud father moment.” My dad eyes me sarcastically and I return it with a toothy grin.

“My team is taking me out to The Midnight Club .”

“What’s that? A strip club?”

I choke on my ice cream and Chloe palms her face.

“Do you really think that I would announce to my dad, my sister, and her platonic wife that I am going to a strip club?”

My dad makes a face, shrugging while he adjusts the black watch on his wrist .

“No. It’s a nightclub. Just good old-fashioned drinks and dancing.”

“Ahh. And have you been to this nightclub before?” He finger-quotes the word ‘nightclub’.

“Of course not.” Leo smiles. “That would be illegal.”

He might be my twin, but sometimes I want to knock his smug little lying face in.

“Mhmm.” My dad grunts before turning his attention to me. “Paloma told me you’re already starting the interview process for an internship for next semester.”

Traitor.

I rub my sweaty palms together under the table.

“Uhh, yeah. I applied for one with the rugby team for next season.” I purposely leave out the part where I let my emotions override any sense of logic and decided to go to a frat party instead, so they had to reschedule.

Before I can let my mind drift off to said party, I clear my throat.

“And I just recently saw a position for an assistant management internship with the basketball team. They’re mid-season and still looking for help, so they’re either going to be desperate or they’ve been super picky. ”

“Assistant management internship. That’s a mouthful.” Chloe laughs, scooping a finger through her whipped cream. “What does a job like that entail?”

“Honestly, it’s probably just a fancy name for the water boy,” I say.

“I know you weren’t interested before, but if you don’t find another team, you know I can always make room for you?—”

“Not necessary, Dad.” I put my hand up, cutting him off before he can even attempt to come in on his white horse.

I pat his shoulder, resting my head there—silently telling him thank you, but no thank you.

I know everything he does, every breath he takes, is for Leo and me.

But I need to know I can do this on my own, and he needs to know that I can, too .

There’s no need to mention that I’m already struggling to keep Noah at an arm’s distance in the single class we share. Seeing him every day at practice would have me crumbling like a dried leaf.

“Alright, I’ve waited long enough.” Leo rubs his hands together, cracking two knuckles, which is his tell that he’s nervous. All eyes focus on him. “I’m kind of seeing someone.”

I’m sure Chloe is staring at him, wide-eyed and my dad is probably smiling, but I don’t look at them.

“Her name is Paige. She’s super smart, and very funny. I think you’ll like her,” he says, directing that part specifically to my dad. “Anyway, I think I’m going to bring her to dinner next week.”

I sit back in my seat with critically narrowed eyes on him.

“Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” I try to sound nonchalant, but I hear the attitude in my own voice. “We’re just bringing strangers to dinner now?”

“She’s not a stranger to me, and if I bring her around, she won’t be a stranger to you.”

While Leo and I are both allergic to celery, have the same brown eyes, and a notch below black hair, we differ in how we let people in. Leo wants to make friends with everyone and stay surrounded by a group of people at all times, regardless of his past relationships.

When I dated his high school teammate, and later found out he was using me to bait my brother, Leo fought him and moved on with his life.

While I dropped Cody like a bad habit, I held on to that feeling of being burned.

Call it the spark that started my anti-hockey player smear campaign.

I don’t want to say he loves any less than I do, but I definitely hold onto the love I’m willing to give out like I only have so much of it, while he gives his a little more freely .

“I know you don’t want to give anyone a chance… ever.” He gives me a pointed look. “But I like her.”

My shoulders drop and I let out a breath. I can’t be mad at him because he doesn’t lock himself up from people, especially when it’s one of the things I love most about him. I want Leo to find someone that makes him happy, and if I have to play nice for him, I’ll do it.

“Well, I’m going home next weekend, so can you bring her to the dinner after that? I don’t want to miss out.” Chloe pipes up, cutting any leftover tension.

Leo rubs the top of her hair, making a mess of her blonde waves, causing my dad and me to laugh.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom, and then Stella and I gotta get going.” I hike a thumb over my shoulder as I stand from the booth. “A night is about to be had.” I clap.

I quickly use the bathroom, wash my hands, and kick open the door. I pull my phone from my pocket with one hand and cover the spread of a smile with my other when I open the text from Noah.

Noah: Happy Birthday, Savvy Girl! I got a birthday kiss with your name on it.

I lean against the wall, tucked away in a corner, free from prying eyes. I strum my bottom lip, attempting to bite down on all the things I actually want to say.

Savannah: Kiss yourself, King.

Noah: I love that sassy mouth of yours.

Thank god he can’t see me. I'm confident my tan cheeks just turned a shade of red.

Noah: Just so you know, I don’t have any plans tonight. I’m still holding out hope for an invitation.

Savannah: You don’t have plans because you have an early morning practice.

Noah: Doesn’t mean I’m not still trying to see you tonight.

I stare at the words longer than I’d like to admit, and since I can’t think of anything to say that isn’t ‘come ,’ I tuck my phone in my pocket and head back to my table.

It’s one of those rare Saturday nights when not a single LCU team has a home game, which means Rowdy’s is half full of town locals rather than packed with university students.

Typically, I prefer it this way, but after having a taste of what it’s like to be here with Noah at my side, with his hand on my thigh and the back of my neck…

I shake my head, clearing it of all thoughts about that six-foot-something, sinful smirking, shameless flirt and bring my attention back to Chloe.

We have a monopoly on the dance floor tonight, even though we get interrupted a handful of times by guys we have no interest in talking to. One of my famous dirty scowls has most of them turning on their heels, though.

“Another?” Chloe raises the drink in her hand.

I nod my head, “Yeah, and I’m gonna go pee!”

“Don’t break the seal!” Her eyes bug out of her head.

“I’ve had one drink, and you know that’s a myth.”

She shrugs before tipping her can back, finishing her drink, and then heading to the bar.

Before I know it, I’m leaning next to the hand dryer, nipping at the corner of my thumbnail and holding my phone to my ear .

“Hello?”

Fuuuck.

“Oh god, you’re sleeping. Sorry.” I’m thrown off guard by the reaction my body has to Noah’s sleepy voice. I cross my feet at my ankles, squeezing my thighs together.

“Don’t be sorry, I wish you’d call me more often.” I take a look in the mirror, trying to steady myself. “Where are you?”

Peeling my eyes from the mirror, I look around the dingy bathroom. “ Rowdy’s —more specifically, the bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah? How’s the floor in there?” I can hear his smile through the phone, but he can’t see my confusion. I lift my foot off the ground and have to pull it up with some force.

“Sticky?”

“I hear it’s a good place for a quickie.”

I choke in surprise. “Do you have a bathroom kink, Noah?”

“I could if you’re into that.” His usual raspy voice is deeper, huskier than normal, and I can’t be certain, but I think a faint moan escapes my lips just listening to him.

Something tells me that based on the way he casually says things that make my thighs clench, the things he would say in the bedroom would be my undoing.

I fight like hell to stop it, but my mind wanders once again to my most recent favorite memory.

Without even trying, I’ve conjured up an image of Noah standing in front of me with my back pressed up against a different bathroom sink. I expect to see six-foot flames dancing and taking me down to the sticky ground when I turn around and look in the mirror, but all the heat seems to be internal.

It took half a second to imagine him here, and even less time to imagine the feel of his rough hands on my body, causing my nipples to grow tight beneath my shirt.

“What are you thinking about? ”

I squeeze my legs a little tighter, attempting to dull down the throbbing between my legs.

“How I almost got off with nothing more than your thigh between my legs and your mouth on my neck.” There’s a defining silence as I lean against the wall and realize that I just said it out loud.

“Oh god .” I smack my forehead, dropping my head back to the tiled wall, desperate for the cool material to bring me back down to earth. “Please don’t laugh.”

“Laugh? Babe, I’m about to fuck my fist. Are you kidding?”

I laugh despite myself and chew the corner of my thumb, slightly excited at the new mental image and still slightly embarrassed that I admitted it out loud. “Alright, well, I better go before I say anything else that I’m going to regret.”

“Like about how you want to go on a date with me?”

Yes. “Are you asking me out, hoping I’ll be drunk enough to say yes?”

“You know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“Only predators say that,” I deadpan.

I hold in my laugh simply so that I can hear his deep chuckle better. “Are you drunk, Savannah?”

I think back to the single White Claw I’ve been babysitting over the last two hours and the bottom-shelf tequila shot Chloe conned someone into buying for us when we first got here. Noah’s voice is the only thing intoxicating me right now. When I don’t answer, he speaks up.

“Just one date. If I were a betting man?—”

“You are a betting man,” I remind him, and I can practically see his lips lifting up at corners while he shrugs a cocky shoulder.

“I bet you’ll have a good time, and I’ll do you one better: if you don’t, you can tell me to fuck off, and I’ll never bring it up again. ”

A deep inhale of stale air does nothing to fill my lungs. My fingers pale on my left hand where I grip the sink. I throw out a last-ditch attempt at keeping Noah at bay.

“Did you forget who my dad is?” I mutter the words and immediately regret them. There’s a heaviness in my chest, and my vision slightly blurs at the thought of pushing him away. I open my mouth to try and backpedal, but he speaks first.

“No,” he states matter-of-factly. “But I also can’t force myself to care.”

“Noah—”

“I’m serious, Sav. I’ve never let anyone decide who I was interested in before.” There’s a pause, and his voice drops from playful and flirty to deep and serious. “And I’m interested in you.”

I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. He always knows just the right things to say. “Say yes.”

I watch in the mirror as dimples form at the bottom of my cheeks and my head moves on its own accord.

“Savannah?”

“I’m nodding,” I whisper.

I hear a rush of his breath, and I shake my head, but am unable to shake my smile.

One date. One date with Noah won’t change anything.

“You sure you don’t want me to meet you out tonight? I could give you a little glimpse of what you’re in for.”

“Save it, Golden Boy.”

“Alright.” He laughs—that deep sound that comes from his chest, and now I’m imagining him in bed, holding the phone with one hand and rubbing a hand across his naked chest.

“How are you getting home?”

His question makes my knees wobble, and I stumble back against the wall. “We’re, uh—we’re walking. It’s only ten minutes, and after enough tequila shots, it will only feel like three.”

“Or I could come pick you up.”

My head hits the tiled wall harder than I intend when I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the burn in my chest. “I’m good, but thank you. Have a good practice tomorrow.”

“Hey, Sav?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t regret this conversation tomorrow.” I don’t say anything as I try to force some oxygen into my lungs. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”