Page 48 of The Way We Are

When the crunching of gravel sounds through our ears, we crank our heads to the noise. Savannah’s car is entering the parking lot. Although grateful she's alone, my stomach still swirls at seeing her again. This is the first time I’ve laid my eyes on her in over four weeks. Even with five years of absence, that’s a record for us.

“I knew Savannah had a hold over you; I just never fathomed it consumed your entire life.” There’s no anger in Amelia’s words; they are too filled with remorse to let anything else through.

After gliding her hand down my arm in a comforting manner, Amelia pivots on her heels and heads back to her group of friends lurking in the shadows. While following Savannah’s car gliding down the gravel-lined road, I consider Amelia’s comment. She only said two sentences, but the underlying message packed more punch than an entire novel.

When Savannah’s car pulls into the empty space next to my truck, my turmoil grows. She had a choice of over two dozen spaces, yet she parks directly next to my truck. I want to pretend it's a sign she's ready to step away from our argument, but the sweat slicking my skin warns me not to be foolish. This is most likely just another mindfuck like the kiss we shared in the coat closet four weeks ago. She didn’t kiss me because she wanted to; she kissed me to keep me quiet. I went into that closet with every intention of talking, and she stumped my plans by using any arsenal she could. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t piss me off. I hate being taken advantage of—hate it!

My eyes drift back to Amelia while shouting, “Amelia! Wait up.”

Her steps stop, but she remains facing her friends, as if she's as untrusting of my motives as I am of Savannah’s.

I watch her chest rise and fall three times before asking, “Will you go with me to the prom?”

Her friends clap their hands and squeal with glee. Unfortunately, Amelia's reaction doesn't mirror theirs. She remains as still as a statue, so frozen, the movements of her chest no longer register.

“Please? Give me a chance to show you the good guys are just as worthy.”

My pulse rings in my eyes when Amelia slowly spins around to face me. I’m not going to lie, I’m genuinely nervous. I’m never asked a girl out before, so I’ll be devastated if she says no.

“You’re not just asking to get back at Savannah?” Amelia’s voice is barely a whisper to ensure Savannah can’t hear her.

“No. I swear,” I answer, my tone as honest as my statement. “It’s time for a major life adjustment. If you’re willing to go gentle on me, I think this could be a step in the right direction.”

Amelia grins at my playful comment. It isn’t a cutesyI'm a good girlsmile; it's one that would set any red-blooded man's heart racing—mine included.

“I’ll be gentle foryou, Ryan,” she whispers as the fire in her eyes detonates.

“That’s a yes?” I double-check, wanting to ensure my rusty dating skills don’t have me mistaking a “no” as a “yes.”

“That’s a yes,” Amelia confirms, pacing toward me.

Pretending she can't feel Savannah's eyes watching our every move, she digs a pen out of her knapsack before securing my hand in hers.

"Call me later, and we'll work out the details," she requests while scribbling her number onto my palm in permanent black ink. She slaps the cap onto her pen before lifting her eyes to mine. "If you don't have plans this weekend, maybe we could go out before prom? You know, to clear out your cobwebs before the big night."

I arch a brow, suspicious of the underlying message in her suggestion. My hunch is proven accurate when Amelia winks, answering my question with as many words as I used to ask it.

“Don’t let me down, Ryan,” Amelia pleads, her voice not as confident as the gleam in her eyes.

“I won’t,” I pledge, knowing too well the effects of broken promises.

I wait for Amelia and her friends to disappear into the shadows before making my way to my truck. Since Savannah arrives first to cheerleading practice, our vehicles are the only two in the lot. Instead of setting up the field for practice, she's leaning on the front quarter panel of her car, basking in the late afternoon rays.

Acting as if my heart isn’t racing a million miles an hour, I dig my cell phone out of my pocket. With how much my hands are sweating from spotting Savannah’s sneaky glance at me from beneath her honey locks, if I don’t add Amelia’s number to my phone now, it will no longer be scrawled across my palm by the time I leave this parking lot.

Besides, using my cell phone as a distraction is a brilliant move on my behalf. Not only do I slip into the driver's seat of my truck with only the quickest glance at Savannah's sun-kissed thighs; I only catch the teeniest whiff of her rosy scent as well.

One obstacle down. Three hundred million to go.

22

Ryan

"What did you do?" Brax cranks his neck back to the flashing blue lights illuminating the midnight sky. "Were you speeding? I thought you had your speedometer fixed last week?"

"I did. I wasn't speeding."

Ignoring the gnawing at my stomach, I scan the cabin of my truck, seeking anything that might betray tonight’s illegal activities. Other than a half-empty bottle of scotch resting at Brax's feet, my truck is clear of evidence.

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