3. Savannah
3
SAVANNAH
H eather and I are sprawled across her bed, exhausted from our shopping spree, when a sharp knock interrupts our lazy afternoon.
"What?" Heather calls out, her tone dripping with indifference, as if the interruption is a mere nuisance.
I can hear Julian’s frustrated sigh filter through the door before he finally speaks. "It's me. I want to talk to you," he begins, his voice tinged with an urgency that makes my heart race even faster. He hesitates for a brief moment, and I can almost feel the tension building in the air, "about Savannah."
Instantly, I sit up in bed, my pulse quickening as a whirlwind of questions floods my mind. Is this a good talk? Does he want to back out of our date? Has he reconsidered and realized that attending prom with an eighteen-year-old is beneath him, or perhaps too complicated for his liking?
Heather, however, is blissfully unaware of my spiraling thoughts. She doesn’t leap out of bed like I do; instead, she remains lounging there, unfazed by the weight of his words. With a nonchalant attitude, she simply yells back, "What about her?"
Julian jiggles the door handle, his frustration evident as he encounters the stubborn resistance of a locked door. "Heather, let me in. It would be easier to talk to you face-to-face," he calls out, his voice laced with urgency.
I whip my head back toward Heather, my expression pleading for guidance. What do I do? Where can I possibly hide? I silently hope my wide eyes relay the panic swirling inside me, a chaotic mix of anxiety and uncertainty.
Heather, seemingly unfazed by the tension, casually gestures toward the closet. Without a second thought, I scramble as quietly as I can manage toward my improvised refuge, my heart racing as I step inside. The moment I settle in, I hold my breath, praying the rustling of my clothes doesn’t give me away. Meanwhile, Heather strides over to the door, her demeanor confident as she prepares to confront Julian.
“What do you want?” she asks him, her tone dripping with a casual disrespect that seems to be the norm between siblings, as if she’s daring him to respond.
Julian steps into the room, and through the narrow slats of the closet door, I catch a glimpse of him. He’s still clad in his uniform, the fabric crumpled slightly, suggesting he might have just clocked out or perhaps stolen a moment during a break. “I wanted to talk to you about?—”
“Sav,” Heather interjects smoothly, flopping back down onto her bed as if the topic were of no real consequence. “What about her?”
He comes uncomfortably close to my hiding place in the closet as he takes a seat at her desk, the wooden chair creaking under his weight. “She’s eighteen now, as you know, which makes her an adult even though she’s still in high school. I was thinking that before I take her to prom, I might ask her out on a date.”
I’m not sure what happens, but I think my heart stops, suspended in disbelief. Did he just say what I think he said? This has been my dream for God knows how long, a fantasy I’ve replayed in my mind countless times. Heather, please, if you have any goodwill in you, tell him to ask me outright this instant, to make this moment real.
But Heather only narrows her eyes at him, a storm brewing behind her gaze. “What intentions do you have with Sav, Julian?” she demands, her voice low and edged with suspicion. She crosses her arms over her chest, the gesture almost protective. “I wanted you to take her to prom, but now you’re talking about dating her? Why? What changed?”
I can’t see Julian’s face clearly, but his voice carries a weight of emotion that fills the air around me. My palms are clammy, slick with sweat, as I stand cramped among Heather’s clothes, contemplating the idea of bursting out of the closet to declare my feelings to Julian. The thought of telling him that I’d love to go out on a date with him flickers in my mind, but I pause, understanding why Heather is firing off these questions. Her protective instincts are kicking in; after all, her brother has a reputation as a playboy, and she doesn’t want to see me get hurt in the aftermath of his past mistakes.
“I like Savannah, okay?” he asserts, his tone defensive, as if trying to shield his feelings from her scrutiny.
“Since when?” Heather shoots back, her words like arrows, quick and precise. “Was it when you were dating Alexandria and dumped her after the two of you slept together? Because that doesn’t exactly scream commitment.”
Julian exhales sharply, pushing a hand through his hair in frustration as he stands up, as if trying to rise above the tension in the room. “You don’t know what happened, Heather. It’s not that simple.”
With determination, she rises from her bed, her posture rigid, glaring up at her older brother, her eyes ablaze with a fierce protectiveness. “It’s exactly that simple. Sav is my best friend, and I’m not going to let you hurt her like you’ve hurt other girls in the past. I won’t stand by and watch it happen.”
“I’m not going to, I’m?—“
“What?” Heather cuts him off, her voice sharp and unwavering. “You’re going to what? Fall in love with her? Marry her? She’s never had sex before, Julian. Hell, she’s never even been kissed. You think you’re going to be that guy for her?” The passion in her words ignites a fire in the air between them, and I can feel the tension creeping up my spine.
But that’s the straw that breaks me. I could feel the color draining from my skin as I listened to the siblings argue, their voices rising and crashing like waves against the shore. Yet when Heather reveals my most vulnerable secret—that I’ve never been kissed—I can’t handle it any longer. I open the closet door, my heart thumping in my chest, and Julian leaps forward, his expression shifting from anger to concern.
“Savannah?” He frowns at me, brows furrowed, then glances back toward Heather as if searching for answers. “What’s going on?”
I can feel tears burning in my eyes, hot and stinging, as embarrassment floods through me. My best friend just exposed my innocence to my brother, and the weight of that betrayal feels like a heavy stone in my stomach. “I trusted you,” I manage to choke out, my voice trembling and breaking like glass. “Why would you tell him that?”
Julian looks back and forth between the two of us, confusion etched on his face, as if he’s caught in a storm he can’t comprehend.
“He needed to know, Sav. You know what he’s like,” Heather insists, her tone firm but tinged with regret.
But I don’t want to hear any more; I can’t take it. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me. I grab the bag I brought with me, my fingers trembling against the fabric, and I leave. I can hear Heather yelling at Julian, and him firing back, their voices a distant cacophony that fades as I step outside. I don’t care. I’ll walk home, feeling the cool breeze brush against my cheeks, a bittersweet reminder of the freedom I crave.
I live five miles away from where the chaos erupted. I have a car, but it’s sitting idle at home, parked in my driveway and waiting for me to return. Besides, I don’t mind getting my steps in for the day; it’s a chance to clear my head. But after the first couple of miles, as the weight of the earlier conversation clings to me like a fog, I’m beginning to regret my decision. Each step feels heavier, a reminder of the tension left behind.
My phone has gone off half a dozen times in my pocket, vibrating insistently like a persistent mosquito. Each time I pull it out, I see Heather’s name flashing on the screen, and a knot tightens in my stomach. The text messages are filled with apologies, saying she’s sorry for spilling the beans to Julian about my lack of romantic encounters, but in her mind, he needed to know what he was getting himself into. Her inability to see how deeply this embarrasses me is why I slip the phone back into my pocket without responding, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.
I understand what she was trying to do. Protecting me from her older brother’s notorious playboy ways was admirable in theory, but she didn’t have to tell him that I’d never been kissed before. The very thought makes me cringe, and I can almost hear the laughter of my peers ringing in my ears.
I don’t have much time to dwell on it before a car pulls up next to me, the rumble of the engine breaking through my spiraling thoughts. I shoot a quick glance over to see Julian behind the wheel of his police-issued, black and white Ford Focus, the vehicle a stark reminder of his authority and the role he plays in this tangled mess.
“Savannah, let me give you a ride home,” he says as he rolls down the window, his voice carrying a mix of concern and something else I can’t quite place. “I think we need to talk.” The invitation hangs in the air between us, heavy with implications and unspoken tension.
I don’t. I think we should never speak again. Honestly, I would prefer if the ground opened up beneath me and swallowed me whole. That fate would be more welcome than enduring another one of his pity speeches about how he no longer intends to pursue me now that he knows I’m a never-been-kissed virgin. “I’m okay. The fresh air is good for me,” I insist, hoping to convey a sense of calm that I don’t truly feel.
But Julian isn’t buying it. He slams on the brakes, the tires screeching slightly, and he pulls on his police officer voice like a safety vest, its authority wrapping around us both. “Get in the car, Savannah Krish.” The command reverberates in the still air, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.
I’m not the type to disobey an order from the police. So even though my instincts scream at me to keep walking, to ignore Julian and the weight of his gaze, I don’t. I reluctantly walk around the front of his car, feeling the asphalt beneath my feet, and slide into the passenger seat, sealing my fate with a soft click of the door.
Maybe the ground will open up and eat us both. Who knows? It would certainly be less complicated than this tangled web we find ourselves caught in.