He shakes his head, pursing his lips. “Nothin’,” he replies, walking out of the kitchen.
I shake my head at his retreating backside and turn away. “Oh my god, he’s so frustrating,” I mutter under my breath.
“I’m frustratin’?” he roars. I turn in time for him to step right into my personal space, his face inches away from mine. His finger is pointing at me and his lips are moving but nothing is coming out of his mouth. He bites down on his lip and says, “I’m not frustratin’, Savannah. You are.”
Okay so now we’re in first grade and we’re going to do the – ‘you are, not me’ game. No thanks. That game I do remember and hated it.
“How am I frustrating? I didn’t invite you out and then stand you up,” I challenge as I step toward him, forcing him to take a step back. “I didn’t promise shopping and a little bit of freedom only to drive away leaving a dust bowl in my wake.”
“I waited for you. You never came out. I told you fifteen minutes.”
I scoff. “Seriously, Tyler, I’m a girl, I need more than fifteen minutes to get ready. I don’t know what type of girls you like, but I, for one, would like to not smell like crap when I’m going out. It’s hot outside, I was sweating and you had me shoveling poop all day.”
He covers his mouth and steps away from me laughing. I punch him in shoulder and turn away, only for him to grab me by my waist, holding me in place. My skin warms where his palm is resting on my hip. An unknown sensation courses through my body making me feel nervous. I didn’t feel like this when… I shake my head, trying not to think about what happened in New York. Chalk it up to a bad experience with the wrong guy and what not.
“You’re laughing at me. I don’t need or want to be here right now,” I say to break the tension in the air.
“I’m sorry, Savannah. I’m only laughin’ because you said poop and I think it’s cute. In fact, I thought for sure you’d start cussin’ up a storm by now, but I haven’t heard a single one come out of your mouth. I’m sorry about the other day. I waited, I did, but when you didn’t come out I figured you weren’t comin’ and I bailed. I got pissed and took off, lettin’ my temper get the best of me.”
I turn slowly, noticing that his hand hasn’t moved yet and is still firmly holding onto my hip. “I stood on the porch and watched you drive away.” I know I sound whiney, but when we were kids, that’s all it took for Tyler to make sure I had my way.
His fingers dig into my hip as if he’s trying to hold on. “I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers as he steps closer. His fingers relax and I feel them move over my skin ever so lightly. I look at him for some type of sign that he wants to be my friend and am taken by the small smile that forms. It’s not the same one he gives to my aunt Sue when he sees her. This one is different. It’s mine. His hand disappears the moment the screen door slams, but it’s too late. Jeremiah is snickering in the doorway and pointing. I step away, putting space between Tyler and me.
“We headin’ to Red’s or what?”
I look at the clock and wonder why he’s going to the bar now.
“Yeah,” Tyler replies as I feel myself sag with disappointment. “First, I have to take Savannah shoppin’. I promised her last week. I’ll meet you there.” I smile, but still feel let down. I’m not good enough for this Red’s place, clearly.
“Don’t forget the condom.”
I blanch at Jeremiah’s retreating backside. Tyler is looking at the doorway he occupied not seconds earlier. I see his face turn blazing red. He turns back to face me, but keeps his eyes focused on the ground.
“Ignore him. I’ll wait while you shower.”
Tyler doesn’t give me an opportunity to respond. He’s walking away muttering something under his breath that I can’t understand. I jump when the screen door slams and he yells for Jeremiah. I step over to the window just in time to see Tyler tackle him and they get lost behind the fence and tall grass. It’s funny to see two grown men play fighting. For the first time since arriving, I’m smiling because I’m happy; even if I have a feeling it will be short-lived.
Tyler
“You’re such an idiot, Jer. I swear you were dropped on your head as a kid!” I kick him in the ass as I move away from him. He’s such a little punk sometimes, saying that crap in the kitchen. The last thing I need is for Savannah to think I’m into her, or that I’m looking for a quickie. I’m going to deny any feelings I have for her until I’m blue in the face, especially to Jeremiah. That boy is the town gossip. I want Savannah to feel comfortable around me and if that means I have to hide how I’m feeling and pretend that I’m just trying to get my friend back, or get to know the person my friend has become, then so be it. I don’t need Jeremiah making a fool out of me in the love department. I can do that just fine on my own.
“Man, you’re ornery.” Jeremiah stands and brushes off the imaginary dirt and grass from his shirt and pants. “I reckon you have an itch that you’re about to scratch.”
I lunge at him, only for him to sidestep and laugh. I’m breathing heavily out of frustration, my chest puffing in and out. I’m going to kick his ass. He pulls off his hat, twists it a few times and takes a bow before walking away from me.
“You need to learn to keep your yapper shut,” I yell at his backside. He doesn’t stop, but raises his arm and flips me off. Stupid asshole. “She’s our friend,” I say, for both my benefit and his.
I take off my ball cap and run my hand over my face. I’m afraid to look at the house because I have a feeling she’s watching this whole thing go down. If she is, maybe I’ll be lucky and she’ll just think that we’re two stupid morons who like to wrestle in the grass. I glance at the window, and sure enough, she’s standing there. I can’t see her face clearly, but she notices me staring and moves away quickly. Hopefully she’s going to go shower or do whatever she needs to do so we can head into town.
I’m mentally taking a note of the kind of clothing she needs to survive out here. She may not want to “Countrify” her wardrobe, but I’d feel better if she was adequately protecting herself when she’s out here working. Her uncle put me in charge of her chores and the day-to-day lack of proper apparel puts limitations on what I can have her do. Not to mention her aunt’s boots are too big for her and she looks like she’s wearing clodhoppers, which she is too dainty for.
“Ugh,” I chastise myself for even thinking of Savannah as dainty. Since when do I have thoughts like that? I shake my head in an attempt to clear them. Except, I’m failing miserably. It’s not because I don’t want to, but she’s making it impossible with the barely-there sundress she now has on. She stands not far from me, one long, perfect leg drawing all my attention as she taps it impatiently. Oversized sunglasses, the same ones she was wearing when she got off the bus, shield her eyes, making it impossible for me to see her expression. Her lips are pursed and painted. A large red bag hangs from her shoulder, the same type Annamae carries and I can’t help but wonder if Savannah has her “life” in there. I know I should look away but I can’t. My eyes follow the path of her long, tanned leg until it reaches the hem of her dress. Without much control I swallow hard and adjust myself discreetly. I close my eyes and berate myself for allowing Savannah to turn me on.
I move toward her and her posture immediately changes. For the love of all things h
oly, I want to rip those sunglasses off her face so I can see her expression, so I can read her. I hate not being able to see what her eyes are trying to tell me.
“Are you going to change?” her tone is snotty and just like that she’s back to being the bitch she’s been since her arrival. I want to know what happened to the girl that was in the kitchen with me not so many minutes ago and why the ice queen is back.