Page 37 of The Way We Are

My heart skids to a stop when Savannah buries her head in my chest so she can use my body as a shield from the massive spray of water blasting us from all angles. By the time her friends surrender to Savannah’s pleas to stop, we are drenched, and the electricity bouncing between us in abundance the past two weeks has tripled.

The past two weeks ... fuck. I don't have a word to adequately describe it. Things are good—very good. Not only have Savannah and I rekindled our friendship as if no time at all has passed, but there also hasn't been an incident at my house that required outside assistance. Not one. That's phenomenal. I honestly can't remember the last time I've gone a day without needing to protect my mother from my father in some way—whether physical or mental—let alone an entire two weeks.

I want to say my father’s newfound attitude is compliments of me having the gall to stand up to him, but that isn’t the case. The credit for his gentlemanly composure has nothing to do with me but with Regina, the officer who has kept her pledge of bringing my father to justice.

My father has worked with his partner for over fifteen years, but the Monday morning following the incident in our backyard, he was assigned another officer from a secondary division. I heard him grumbling to my mom last week about the unjust way the head of department is treating him and that he's seeking representation from a union member. His tone was the same stern one I've become accustomed to hearing the past ten years, but for once, his anger wasn't directed at my mom. By placing herself in his line of fire, Regina shifted the focus off my mom. For that alone, I will be forever in her debt.

A pelt of water to my head draws my focus back to the present. I shift my narrowed gaze to the direction the water came from. Brax is standing beside Savannah’s best friend, Justine. His hose down was more to impress her than Chris, who is in a fit of laughter on his right. Brax would never admit it, but he didn’t offer for Justine to clean the rim of the cars because it's easier for her to reach. He's doing it so he can ogle her ass. He clearly likes what he sees, as he’s been adjusting his crotch as often as I have this afternoon.

While running his fingers through his shoulder-length brown hair, Brax chuckles. "You looked hot. I was cooling you down."

The gleam in his eyes when he drags them down Savannah’s body reveals what he really wants to say. He’s giving the same warning he has a hundred times the past two weeks. “Until she's yours, she isn’t yours. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Even peeved the biggest player at school is giving me relationship advice, I agree with him. Savannah isn’t mine. She’s stillhis.

Savannah hasn’t mentioned Axel the past two weeks. He doesn’t come up during our conversations, and I’ve never asked about him, but I know they’re still together. The fact he texted her over a dozen times last night leaves no doubt to my theory, let alone the fact no matter how steamy the air gets when we are together, we’ve never acted on our desires. Not even a measly peck on the lips.Goddammit!

Although tempted to ask Savannah about their relationship, something always stops me. I don't know why I'm hesitant. We've grown close the past two weeks, but no matter how many times I attempt to force the words off my tongue, my mouth refuses to relinquish them.Maybe I am worried about losing her?

“Where did you go?” Savannah asks, her voice barely a whisper.

When I arch a brow, she wiggles her torso, requesting I loosen the tight grip I have on her. I do—reluctantly.

"Whenever you're deep in thought, you get a groove right here." Her last two words are complemented with strokes of her thumb between my brows. "You've been doing so much thinking lately, the crease is becoming a wrinkle."

She smiles when I screw up my nose. “That’s not helping,” she mutters between giggles.

Favoring her laugh over the direction our conversation could take if I admit the cause of my furrowed brows, I tickle her ribs.

"Ryan ... don't..." she warns between giggles. She wriggles against me, making me acutely aware of how close we’re standing.

I’ve barely bombarded her ribs for the second time when Justine shouts, “Break’s over, you two. We’ve got half a dozen cars waiting for our attention.”

Shocked by her menacing tone, my eyes rocket to Justine. Her face is even paler than usual, enhancing the vibrant red coloring of her hair, and the heat her cheeks gained from Brax’s flirty comments all afternoon has drained. If her eyes are as telling as Savannah’s, I’ll guess she’s panicked. The reason for her spooked response comes to light when she nudges her head to the line of cars waiting to be cleaned.

“Oh shit,” Savannah mumbles under her breath when she spots the shiny red convertible using the sidewalk as if it's a road. “He wasn’t supposed to be back from football camp until tomorrow.”

After realigning her clothes to make sure they're sitting right, she lifts her eyes to mine. Her lips twitch, but not a word spills from her mouth. She doesn't need to speak for me to hear her pleas, though; I can see them in her eyes. They are the same ones she gave me last night when she begged for privacy so she could return his third unanswered call.Please forgive me.

Even with my brain screaming for me to deny her request, I nod my head, foolishly believing my gallantry will be rewarded tenfold in the future. Savannah gives my hand a final squeeze before hotfooting it to Justine's side. Grabbing a bubble-loaded sponge and bucket, she sets to work on cleaning the car Justine and Brax have been working on the past ten minutes while I sink into the shadows, pretending I don't care that she is still his.

I wish I didn't care. I wish I was confident enough in our relationship to march up to her and plant a sloppy kiss on her lips right in front of him. But since I'm treading in foreign waters, I act like a coward instead of a man.

I watch him creep up on her with a gleam in his eyes that matches mine—the one that claims ownership.

I watch him twirl her through in the air—her giggles for him, not me.

I watch him kiss her as I want to kiss her—without hesitation or fear of who is watching.

I watch him carry her to his car over his shoulder—his hand swatting her bottom like he always does.

I watch him drive her away from me as she watches me, begging for me to save her, while also pleading that I don’t.

I watch her from afar as I have the past five years.

Watching—never having.

15

---