17 #2
“Hey,” she said, drawing the word out like a sigh. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, Andrew.”
Drew shifted his gaze from the brightly lit building in front of them to the shape of her face, only a few inches from his, though the effort it required to do that simple thing was alarming. He felt like he’d been turned to stone.
“Good. I’m right here, okay? We’re gonna . . . umm . . .”
She floundered, and Drew tipped his head back against the seat, trying with all his might just to breathe properly. Stop this! he berated himself, but of course that did nothing to help the situation.
“. . . we’re gonna breathe together, okay?
Take my hands.” She ran her fingers down the outsides of his forearms and pried his grip off the steering wheel.
“Close your eyes and focus on my voice, okay? We’re gonna breathe in, and you’re gonna squeeze my hands while we hold for four, yeah? Alright, one . . .”
She began to count, and Drew did his best to focus on the sound of her voice and the warmth of her hands in his. He squeezed, and the pressure in his fingers seemed to ease the pressure around his rib cage—but only slightly.
“Good!” she said. “Now, release and breathe out for four. One, two . . .”
He followed her instructions through three more cycles, trying to think only about his breath and his hands—in and out, tighten and release. Gradually, the pounding in his veins began to slow.
“Good boy,” Savannah said after a while, and Drew let out a dry, shaky sort of laugh. It sounded like she was talking to Ryker.
“Well, you thought that was funny, so that’s promising,” she said, and he thought he could hear a smile in her voice. Then she squeezed his fingers hard. “We can go home,” she went on, serious now. “We can turn right around and go home. I’ll drive.”
He shook his head from side to side, even as his stomach still threatened to revolt. “No,” he rasped, the first word he’d managed to say since they’d arrived. “I’ll be okay. Just keep talking.”
She hesitated, as if deciding whether or not to protest further, but then she did as he said. “Alright. What color is your truck?” she asked softly.
Drew was distracted by her hands, which were now rubbing steadily along the outsides of his arms, and it took him a moment to respond. “Black,” he croaked. Then he cleared his throat.
“What color is your hair?”
“Brown.”
“What color are my earrings?” she asked. This time her voice lilted up, like she thought she may have stumped him.
“Gold,” he answered, without even thinking.
Savannah fell silent, and her hands stopped moving. Drew forced his eyes open and peered over to where she sat beside him.
An odd sort of smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. “You weren’t even looking,” she breathed.
Drew lifted one shoulder in a shrug, glad he’d regained control over at least that much of his body. “I notice things about you,” he said.
Savannah cocked her head. “Like what?”
Drew closed his eyes again, mentally scrolling through all the information he’d stored away over the years.
“Most of your jewelry is gold,” he started.
“You wrinkle your nose when you’re thinking.
You don’t wear a watch unless you’ve been at work.
You snort when you laugh, but only when you’re too tired to be self-conscious about it.
You smell my clothes when you think I’m not looking.
You say you don’t like root beer, but I know you do because that’s what you sneak from my fridge all the time. ”
He went on, reciting a list that could have taken him all night, and gradually realized he felt better.
Talking about her had helped more than anything else.
When he finally trailed off and opened his eyes, he found Savannah staring at him with an unreadable expression.
It wasn’t pleasure, exactly, and it wasn’t surprise.
It was something in between, and yet different altogether.
It was like she’d had an epiphany while he wasn’t looking, and he felt stripped bare beneath that look—like she could see every secret he’d ever tried to hide.
Their eyes locked and held, and he tried again to tell her exactly how he felt—why he’d cataloged all her quirks for so long.
Deep breath. Just say it, he thought. He pulled air in through his nose and let it out in a rush. Then he opened his mouth.
“Do you think you could go in now?”
Savannah’s question threw off his momentum, and the words he’d planned to say ducked back into their hiding places.
“What?” he asked.
“Do you think you could go in?” she repeated. “Or would you rather go home? It’s okay, really, if you want to leave.”
Drew snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “No. We can go in.” He was still a little shaky, but he could fake his way through conversation now.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “I’ll be alright. I’m sorry. I just needed a minute.”
Savannah worried her lower lip between her teeth and studied him uncertainly, as if she were looking for the remaining cracks in his facade, but when he reached for his door handle, she seemed to snap out of it. “Okay, but only if you’re sure,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he echoed, sliding to the ground and reaching up to help her down behind him. “Just . . . don’t leave me, okay?” he asked, clutching her hand in his like the lifeline he’d never known he needed.
She nodded, still watching his face intently. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of it.”