“Nah, he needs to do a big gesture.” Cal throws out his arms, one of which nearly hits me in the face. “I suggested skywriting.”
Julie wrinkles her nose. “I always thought those were super cheesy. I think you should do flowers. Buy her a big bouquet and get down on your knees.”
“That’s a proposal, not an apology,” Cal argues.
“It can be both,” she retorts. “And what do you know about grand gestures? Have you even made one in your entire life?”
“Hey, I did the promposal thing,” he says, looking wounded.
Julie and I both look at him in surprise. Cal is not the promposal type. His idea of romantic is sticking a candle in a hamburger bun.
“Oh, this I gotta hear,” Julie declares. “Did it involve animals? A treasure hunt? What?”
“I put a bag of chocolate-covered almonds in her locker with a note that said ‘I’d be nuts not to ask you to prom.’” Cal looks so proud that I force myself to choke down my laughter.
Julie shakes her head. “Ugh. So dorky.” She turns to me. “What about you? Did you do a promposal?”
“No.” I avoided my junior prom, and senior prom was a disaster.
“No as in not to Savannah, or no as in not at all?”
“Not at all.”
“Did your school not have prom? I know you went to a private one,” she asks, full of curiosity.
“We had one. I just didn’t go.”
“Is that part of why this girl is mad at you? Because you shafted her on prom night?” Cal asks.
“No. I dicked her over before Christmas. She didn’t go to prom, either.”
“Ouch.” Cal grimaces. “Forget I said anything.”
Julie pats me on the back sympathetically. “It sounds like you were a real jerk. I think Cal might be right for once. You need to do something extravagant and splashy to show her how remorseful you are.”
“He’s done big gestures,” Cal tells her. “He bought her four florist shops.”
Julie’s eyes grow wide. “Really? Five of them?”
“I bought flowers from four different shops,” I explain. “But here’s the deal with big gestures. They’re for people who mess up the everyday stuff. If you’re doing right by your girl—or guy—then you don’t need to do the big gesture. Besides, like Cal said. I’ve done that. It’s time for me to concentrate on doing the everyday thing.”
“What is that exactly?” Julie asks.
“For starters, I need to start listening.”
Chapter 8
Savannah
Present Day
“Here you go.” Adrian Trahern hands me back my phone. With his sharp jawline and dreamy brown eyes, the sophomore looks like he’s better suited in front of the camera than behind it.
Wishing I was moved by his good looks, I muster up a smile. “Thank you. I won’t use it unless I have an emergency.”
“This will be the first time I hope someone has a lot of emergencies, then,” he teases.
In a normal world, I’d be throwing myself into Adrian’s arms and begging him to teach me everything. And I’m not talking about film. Instead, I shift awkwardly from side to side, unsure of myself.
Adrian saves me. “So you’ll be back in June?”
“Yes.” This time my smile is genuine. It’s a relieved smile, not a flirty one, but at least it’s real. “I’m excited, but a little scared. I suspect I might have a lot of emergencies then.”
His grin grows bigger. “I’ll be on the lookout.”
He holds open the door to the Arts building and gestures for me to precede him. A normal girl would be swooning at the obvious invitation from a boy as hot and charming as Adrian, but all I can summon is a weak grin. Damn Gideon.
“Are you producing your entire film here over the summer or do you have some parts ready to go? The equipment here is really great so if you’ve shot some scenes beforehand, you might want to redo them.”
“I’m still at the storyboard stage,” I admit.
“Let me know if you want to bounce any ideas around or get more feedback. Editing my summer festival film took forever because I’d fallen into the digital trap.”
“The digital trap?” I ask, holding up a hand to block the bright sun from my face.
“Yeah. With digital, there’s no difference in cost between filming five minutes or fifty minutes, except there is when you sit down to pare all of that video down to your three-minute short.”
“Oh, good point.”
“There are more tips where that one comes from.”
“Here you are.”
The faintly disapproving voice of Gideon stops me in my tracks. I drop my hand to find my dreadful ex standing in the middle of the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his chest. The pose makes the muscles in his biceps pop out, and a traitorous part of me quivers at the memory of those arms holding me.
Adrian’s lanky frame stiffens beside me, but his tone is light when he asks, “A friend of yours?”
“No. Not really,” I say sourly.
Gideon pretends he doesn’t hear me and sticks his hand out. “I’m Sav’s boyfriend. And you are?”
I slap Gideon’s hand away. “No, you’re not.” The back of my neck heats up with embarrassment, and what had been a vague idea before hardens into determination. “Actually, I’m going to take you up on your offer,” I inform Adrian. “I’d love to go over my storyboard with you. Should I text you some pictures and we can meet up when I get to campus in June?”
The sophomore glances from me to Gideon and back again. “Sure. Like I said, I’ll be around. I’ve got an hour now, if you want to catch lunch.”
“Savage is having lunch with me,” Gideon interjects.
Adrian’s eyebrows go up. “Savage?”
If I was prone to blushing or maidenly swoons, I’d be prostrate on the sidewalk right now.
“Go away,” I mutter with as much menace as possible.
“She means you,” Gideon says to Adrian.
“I do not!” The denial comes out loud, like a scream, and both boys turn to me in surprise.
“Is this guy bothering you?” Adrian asks softly. “Because I can call campus police, if you feel unsafe.”
“Someone’s going to be unsafe in about two seconds,” Gideon growls.
I cover my face with my hands. The Theater Arts and Film department is nearly a half mile away from the Business Administration cluster of buildings. I’d convinced myself that the campus was big enough for the two of us, but after only a couple of days of this visit, I know I’m wrong.
Which means I need to deal with Gideon. I have more unresolved feelings toward him than I realized. When he was away at college and I was in Bayview, it was easier to make myself believe that I was completely over him. Seeing him, though, brought all those memories back. All the good ones and all the bad ones, too.
“Look, man, I don’t know who you are, but you’re out of line,” Adrian snaps at Gideon. “Savannah, I can have campus police here in under five minutes.” He grabs my wrist and jerks me close to him.
Gideon lunges forward, and it takes only a nanosecond to see how this will all unfold. Gideon will punch Adrian. Adrian will retaliate, but Gideon’s stronger and has four younger brothers he’s used to fighting with. The cute film major will have no chance and my four years at State will be marked by being that girl. I’m done with being that girl.
I wrench out of Adrian’s grip and throw myself at Gideon. As expected, he immediately diverts his attention from Adrian to me.
“Stop,” I tell him, my voice quiet. “Don’t ruin this for me.”
He reads the seriousness on my face and gives me a reluctant nod. “All right.” He backs up, holding his hands palm-out in front of his chest. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I wanted to take you to lunch.” He extends a hand beyond me. “I’m Gideon, and yes, I’m Sav’s ex. For the record, though, I plan on changing that, so you can
pursue her if you want, but know that it’ll be a fight.”
“Gideon,” I hiss.
“What?” He feigns innocence. “You once said that if my lips were moving, I was lying. I’m trying to show you I’ve changed. Only the truth from now on.”
Behind me, Adrian clears his throat. I know what he’s going to say even before I turn to face him.
“I’ve got plans.” He points to some random point off in the distance. “I’m meeting…” He trails off, probably remembering he just invited me to lunch.
I sigh. “Thanks for everything, Adrian. I’ll see you around.” Translation: I’m not going to call you and make things super awkward, I promise.
Adrian nods and then takes off, slowly at first, but then he starts jogging, as if he can’t get away from us fast enough.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, I turn on Gideon. “What the hell was that?”
“I want you to hear me out.”
“Hear you out about what?”
“About everything.”
“Why?” I ask bluntly, trying to figure out his angle. Why does he still care? Why does he still pursue me? Why does he still want to hurt me?
“Because I…”
Of course, it’s about what he wants. I start walking, but stop when he says, “No. Because you deserve it.”
My outrage dims and cautious suspicion takes its place. “Deserve what?”
A grimace contorts his face. His shoulders hunch forward, making the six-foot two-inch swim god look unusually vulnerable. “Everything,” he says softly. “All of the truths behind all of the lies that I ever told you. That’s what you deserve.”
My heart trips and fear makes my palms sweat. All of the truths? Can I handle that? Do I even want to know? Yet, isn’t this what I’ve been looking for? And if I finally get all the answers and explanations, won’t I be able to move on from Gideon?
“When’s the last time you’ve seen Dinah?” I blurt out.
A sad curve touches his lips, and for a moment I expect another lie. “A couple weeks ago,” he admits.
I can feel my eyes grow two sizes. “You saw her two weeks ago and have the nerve to talk to me?” I’m done with him. So done. “Get out of my face. Don’t come near me. We’re done. From now on, I don’t know you.”
He darts in front of me. “I could have lied. I could have lied,” he repeats. “I could’ve said I haven’t seen Dinah in months or years, but like I told you—only truths, no matter how painful. Honesty sucks, Sav, and not just because the truth is usually more painful than lies, but because there never seems to be a reward. Take now, for example. If I’d lied, you wouldn’t be a second away from running off. If I’d lied, you wouldn’t be mad.”
His words are full of truth and pain, which only makes me angrier. I advance on him, shaking my fist in his face, wishing I could inflict on him even an ounce of the hurt he’s caused me. “I’m mad about everything. I’m mad you cheated. I’m mad you lied. I’m mad you just saw Dinah. I’ve got so many grievances, it’s hard to catalogue them all.”
“I know.”
“You know? That’s all you can say to me?”
“No. I’m willing to tell you everything, but we both know it won’t justify what I did. It won’t erase the past, but if you need to hear it, then I want to tell it to you.” He spreads his arms wide. “Ask me anything. Ask me why Dinah was here on campus two weeks ago. Ask me what went on every time I had to leave you abruptly. Ask me why I’m here, ready to humiliate myself in front of you. Ask me anything—just don’t leave.”
“Then tell me.” My voice is so low even I can barely hear it, the words coming from the deepest well of my heart. “Tell me why you chose her instead of me.”
Chapter 9
Gideon
Three years ago
“Dammit, Sav. I can’t come over right now. I’m not ignoring you, but I’ve got some stuff to deal with here. Can’t you let it go?” I clench the phone in my fist. Why can’t she understand that if I had a choice, I’d be with her? As if spending time with my four loud and obnoxious little brothers is better than lying in Sav’s sweet-smelling bedroom under the sheer curtains that are draped around her headboard.
But Mom’s on another bender and I can’t let her get ahold of Easton. Reed and I are trying to dry the kid out. If we leave him alone, she’ll manipulate him into buying her more pills.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Savannah’s unnecessary apology nearly cracks me open. I want to scream out the laundry list of every damn thing that is wrong at home, but I battle the urge back until those cracks are covered and sealed.
“It’s nothing,” I lie. “Just gonna play some video games with my brothers.”
“Video games. You’re going to play games with your brothers instead of hanging out with me. Am I hearing this right?”
I give a strained laugh. “Yeah, it sounds crazy, but I forgot I promised Easton that we’d play.”
“Do you want me to talk to her?” Dinah whispers from behind me, only it’s not really much of a whisper. I cover the speaker on the phone, but it’s too late.
“Who’s there?” Sav demands.
“No one.” I make an angry shooing gesture for Dinah to move away. Dinah just rolls her eyes.
Sav doesn’t respond right away. She knows I lied. I know she knows, yet I remain silent. Her acceptance of my shitty behavior makes me unreasonably angry. Yell at me, I silently fume. Call me out on my assholeness.
Of course, she doesn’t.
“All right, Gideon. Call me when you have a chance.”
“Later, Sav.”
“I love you,” she says, unknowingly sticking the knife in deeper.
I choke out the same words in reply and then hang up. I press the edge of the phone to my forehead, digging the hard case into my temple as if the pressure will take away the pounding headache I’ve developed.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Dinah tells me. “If you drag that sweet, innocent girl into this mess, you’ll make her feel responsible somehow, and that will add to your already tough burden.”
“I don’t give a shit about my so-called burden,” I mutter. A spot between my shoulder blades begins to itch. I don’t feel comfortable having Dinah so close to me, but the woman doesn’t have a good sense of boundaries. She’s always in my space.
Dinah stretches her arm around my shoulders, letting her fingers dangle above my left pec. “The best way to shield her from hurt is to keep her away. It’s a selfless act, Gideon. One that few people would be willing to make. I admire you so much for it.”
“You shouldn’t. I feel like a big pile of dog shit right now.”
Her nails tap against my chest. “You shouldn’t. And one day soon you’ll explain all of this away and she’ll be so sorry she was angry with you for even a second.”
“The problem is that she isn’t angry.” I shove the phone into my pocket. “She’s so damned accepting and that makes all of this worse.”
Dinah clucks her tongue and sidles closer. “It’s because she’s young. How old did you say she was?”
I shift my weight to one side and try to move away. Then I wonder how much to confess. When Sav and I started dating, I stupidly assumed she was sixteen. She’s not. She doesn’t turn sixteen until next month, which means, technically, she’s jailbait since I turned eighteen in August. But this is Dinah and she’s not about to rat me about. After all, there are bigger and better Royal family secrets for her to blab about.
“She’s fifteen. She’ll be sixteen in December.”
Dinah’s eyes widen before a sly smile spreads across her face. “Why, Gideon, I had no idea you liked the forbidden.”
“I don’t.” I scowl. “I thought she was older.”
“Of course you did,” she says in a singsong voice. “Don’t worry, cradle-robber. I’ve got your back. Mum’s the word.” She zips two fingers across her lips.
“Appreciate it,” I say, and shift again to create more space between her body and mine.
Dinah only closes the distance. Her touching always gets my back up. It doesn’t feel right, but I don’t know how to tell her to stop. She’ll want to know why, and I don’t have a concrete answer—just a feeling that all her physical contact wouldn’t sit right with Savannah. But how do I point out that Dinah’s boob is on my arm without being rude?
Besides, this sort of contact doesn’t mean anything to Dinah. She’s trying to help me. I’ve noticed she’s the touchy-feely type, and I’m not going to offend her by acting like a kid who’s too immature to withstand a peck on the cheek by a mother figure.
“I’m always here for you, Gideon,” Dinah murmurs, her lips almost brushing my ear lobe.
I know she doesn’t mean to sound suggestive, but sometimes that’s the way my lizard brain reads it. “Thanks. I think I’ll see what’s for dinner.” Without waiting for a response, I give myself an internal slap across the face and head into the kitchen.
Sandra is busily chopping onions on the center island. There are two pots on the stove, and the smells filling the kitchen are amazing. My stomach growls.
“What’re we having?” I ask, gliding up to the counter.
“Chicken parm.”
“Nice. I’ll tell the boys. What time should we come down?”
“Forty minutes,” she says.
“Awesome. You’re the best, Sandy.” I give our housekeeper a one-armed hug before moving toward the back stairs.
I have one foot on the bottom step when Sandra clears her throat.
“Yeah?” I glance over my shoulder at her.
She hesitates and then says, “Will Ms. Dinah be joining us?”
“She eats?” I joke. Dinah’s thin as a rail. I don’t see much going into her mouth unless it’s Skinny Vodka.
“I’ve cooked more for that woman than I have for Ms. Maria lately,” Sandra complains. “I was worried.”
About what? Mom not eating much of her food or Dinah eating too much of it? But asking that is like asking someone which stick of dynamite she wants to light first. Both end in a lot of unnecessary crying.