Page 73 of Heartbreaker
She still doesn’t move, but after a moment, I urge her back inside, and she gives in.
I close the door and take a deep breath before facing her. Normally, this is when we’d share a quick meal, then shower, and afterwards get lost in the sheets. Instead, Savannah stands in front of the sink in the dimly lit kitchen, arms crossed over her chest. She’s changed from the white cropped shirt she wore in the arena into a vintageBrooks Taylorshirt—black with a white design of an eagle andBuilt for thiswritten beneath it—and it makes me think that, despite whatever this is about, there’s still hope. My gaze travels over the interior of the bus, and everything looks in place, except it doesn’t at the same time.
Wait, where is that stack of books that was on the table earlier?
She packed all of her shit and was really about to leave without saying a damn word. What is going on?
“Were you going to leave without saying something?” I ask. “If you want to end things, Savannah, you’re going to do it to my fucking face.”
Her eyes lift from the floor, slightly narrowed.
“You’ve barely spoken to me all week. Barely looked at me. I knew something was wrong, but I guess I assumed you were trying to get over the shit with the Drake story. So, I let it go, but now I realize maybe letting you cool off on your own was a mistake. Then you come out there and do that, and now…” I scoff. “Now, I come out here to talk about all of this, and I find you leaving?”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Savannah, please talk to me!” I step forward, grasping her arms, pleading with her.
She takes a deep breath and a small step back. “Why did you want to be with me, John?”
The question takes me aback. “What do you mean? I-I’ve always wanted to be with you. We—”
“But why?” If she asked me this question any other time, I could give her a million reasons, but right now, my mind goes blank.
“You were—are—different. You’reyou. I don’t—I don’t know what you want me to say here, Sav. If I’m being honest, I’m a little caught off guard.”
“The truth.”
“That is the truth!”
“It wasn’t because of a bet?” Savannah asks.
It feels like a black hole opens inside my chest. The emptiness grows, threatening to swallow me whole, as her expression morphs in the moments that follow. Her mask of indifference falls, and I can see the hurt behind her eyes. Not just hurt…there’s anger, too. So much anger. I wonder how long she has been holding onto this.
“When you asked me on a date four years ago, was it because you wanted to or because youhadto?”
“I wanted to.” The answer comes instantly. Of course, I wanted to ask her. I wanted to date her from the second I saw her again at NextGen.
“Not because you had to?” she asks again, but the more I think about it, I’m not sure I can rightfully deny it. Not when the push to do it had come from some connived version of chivalry to protect her from the assholes we work with. “Answer the question, John.”
“Yes.” I sigh, and my tongue pokes out to wet dry lips. “There was a bet that Drake made, but Sweetheart—”
Savannah scoffs. “Unbelievable.”
“Savannah, it’s not like that!” I grasp for her when she tries to push by me. “I wanted to, and I would have regardless of that damn bet—”
“When?”
“Eventually!”
“Eventually.” She repeats it with such utter disbelief and disgust, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this.”
“It was me or them, Sav,” I say. That doesn’t make it right, but that doesn’t make it any less true. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. None of them cared about you. They were talking like you were some doll to be passed around. I couldn’t just sit by and—”
“You should’ve told me!”
“Told you what? ‘Hey, Sav, just so you know, Drake just made an outrageous bet, and I have to get in your pants before Wrestlefest to win. You want to go on a date?’”
“You’re disgusting.” Her beautiful face contorts, and the look in her eyes is one I’ve never seen before. One I never want to see again.
