Page 99 of The Way We Are

“I love you guys,”I shout, my unusual praise barely distinguishable from the heavy slur of my words.

Brax stops slamming his fists into Chris’s stomach to return my praise. Although I’m not one hundred percent certain what they are arguing about, I’m fairly sure Brax is retaliating to Chris giving him crap about his “non-date” with Justine.

“Let’s see if you still love them when you’re puking your guts up tomorrow morning.” Savannah releases a breathless grunt when she aids me into the passenger seat of my truck.

When she leans over to latch my belt, I inhale a large whiff of her rose scent. “You smell pretty,” I inform her, tapping her nose with my index finger.

“I what?” Savannah asks, proving my words are as unintelligible to her ears as they are to mine.

I don’t know why I’m slurring. I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol all night. When Brax and Chris suggested we take my graduation celebration to Bronte’s Peak, Savannah and I readily agreed. Although we’re both eager to spend some quality one on one time with each other before she returns to Cornell tomorrow, if Brax and Chris didn’t fund her travels, she would have never been here to begin with, so the least we could do was accept their invitation.

“Was your coke flat?” I ask Savannah when she slips into the driver’s seat of my truck. My tongue wiggles around my mouth, trying to rid it of the skanky taste coating it the past two hours. “I think my soda was out of date. Something wasn’t quite right with it.”

Giggling softly, Savannah sticks the key into the ignition before attempting to fire up my motor. An inappropriately timed chuckle leaves my mouth when her foot fails to reach the gas pedal.

“My little pocket rocket,” I murmur through a hiccup. “You need to adjust the lever. It’s right down here.” I slide my hand between her thighs to grip the lever I’m referring to.

When Savannah’s intoxicating scent lingers into my nostrils, I burrow my head between her legs and inhale a large whiff. “Hello down there. You smell just as pretty as your owner.”

It’s lucky I’m drunk or I may have shot myself after that line.

Thankfully, Savannah is saved from replying to my mumbled comment when I pass out in her lap. Embarrassing snores and all.

I wakeup the next morning with a cotton wool mouth and a raging headache. Though my thumping skull requests more sleep, I slowly crack open my eyes. It takes me a few moments to gather my bases. I’m not in the room I’ve awoken in every day the past sixteen years. I’m in a room that smells like roses and is covered wall to wall with pink accessories.

Although Savannah has always loved earthy tones, she didn’t have the heart to tell her mom she hated the candy pink feature wall she painted in her room one afternoon when Savannah was at school. Her mom added to the girly palette every month.

When I spot the time on an old-fashioned alarm clock on Savannah’s bedside table, I lurch into a half-seated position. Bile races to my throat, spurred by my sudden movements. I deserve to vomit. My girlfriend drove over fourteen hours to see me, and I didn’t even have the decency to see her off. Savannah had to be on the road no later than 8 AM. It's a little after 11.

After gathering my clothes strewn across the floor, I head to Thorn’s room to say goodbye. Although Thorn forgets me the instant I leave, I still say hello and goodbye in the same manner every time I am in his house. It's the respectful thing to do.

Another forty minutes pass before I’m heading to my truck. Thorn was extra chatty today. I raise my hand into the air, blocking the rays of the high-hanging sun that add to the thump of my head. I am halfway to my truck before it dawns on me that I shouldn’t be driving. Even adamant I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol last night, there's no doubt I am suffering the effects of a hangover.

My assumptions are proven dead accurate when I drag my cell out of my pocket to call for a cab. There are numerous messages from Brax and Chris, confessing to spiking my coke with vodka.

I’m going to kill them.

I know it was all in fun, but I won’t see Savannah for another two months, and they ruined the only night we had together.

I stop scrolling local taxi companies on google when a visual a million years couldn’t erase from my mind pops into my peripheral vision. Savannah is leaning over my truck, tinkering with my motor. She's wearing the same tiny pair of white shorts from months ago, but instead of them being paired with a spaghetti-strap cami, she's wearing a plaid shirt. All she needs is pigtails, and my Daisy Duke fantasy would come true.

“Savannah?” I ask, wondering if I am still drunk.

The smile she's wearing when she cranks her neck toward me leaves no doubt of my sobriety. I am drunk, but it isn’t alcohol causing my dizzy state. It's the girl of my dreams.

“What are you doing here?”

Savannah giggles. “I live here.” The purr of her sexy voice adds to my unstable swagger.

“You know what I mean. You’re supposed to be halfway to Cornell by now.”

Smiling, he steps off my bumper and paces closer to me. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I tried waking you.” Her cute nose screws up. “I thought Chris was impossible to budge when he's sleeping. You are ten times worse.”

I grin to hide my grimace. “Brax and Chris spiked my drinks,” I confess.

“I know,” Savannah replies, her sugary-sweet voice dipping to hide her deceit.

“You know because you witnessed them do it? Or because you helped them?”

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