Chapter 23
twenty-three
DAVIS
I haven’t heard from Sasha all day.
My text wishing her a happy birthday lies unanswered, that stupid delivered notification is driving me absolutely insane.
But I don’t want to push.
I can’t push, not ever, but definitely not today.
She has to pull herself out of this. I can’t do anything to help her if she doesn’t want it. So until she gives me that opportunity, I’ll be here, waiting to run to her the second she lets me.
I toss my phone on the table in our living room, groaning while Lucas and Blair play against each other in a new game. Miller and August sit on the couch next to them while Claire and Steph whisper to one another in the kitchen.
“Is she going to be okay?” Miller plays with the frayed edges of a blanket.
Will she?
“She’s celebrating her birthday for the first time without her brother, of course she’s not okay,” August bites back.
Her brother, his death, her trauma, none of it is a secret anymore. Every single person in this room knows the truth, which means every one of them is also worried about her.
We don’t have to celebrate today if she doesn’t want to, but she shouldn’t be alone.
“She’s a fighter,” I tell them, “she’ll find a way to get through this.”
Somehow, against all odds, Sasha has managed to make it through everything life has thrown at her. She’s survived so much, this can’t be the thing that breaks her.
I just want her to be okay. I want her to keep being the girl who smiles and laughs and puts up with my dumb jokes.
She’s not even my girlfriend, well, not officially at least, but I like to think that we both know we’re already there, and that whole girlfriend title also comes with the responsibility of taking care of her when she can’t take care of herself.
I want to take care of her.
I want to be there for her.
I want her to let me in.
“Just give her some time, she needs to process this and figure it out for herself,” Lucas tells me, his focus still on the TV. “I know your hearts in the right place, but this isn’t all black and white. It’s not that easy for her.”
“You’re one to talk,” Blair snorts, “you’re the one who shoved her into a car.”
Lucas stiffens. “Her and I had a talk yesterday, I probably don’t deserve her forgiveness, but she gave it anyway. Her and I are fine.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Blair mutters.
Oh lord, here we go.
The two of them don’t get into it very often, but when they do, it’s bad.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lucas snaps.
Miller leans away from the two of them, while August chuckles to himself.
“It means,” Blair responds pointedly, “that one of these days you’re gonna do something hard-headed and you’re not gonna be forgiven.”
The whole room goes silent.
Lucas included.
Blair shrugs. “Sorry man, you’re my best friend, but you’re also the only mother fucker I know who keeps getting away with this shit. It happened with Claire, and now it’s happening with Sasha.”
“That’s not fair,” Claire chimes in.
Blair turns to look over his shoulder, “you and I both know it’s the truth.”
Steph shakes her head, “Blair… stop.”
Claire’s eyes dim for a moment, but she slams up the walls I haven’t seen in a while and steels her spine. “You don’t get to decide what Lucas does and doesn’t get forgiven for.”
“What if it had been worse? At some point he has to learn.”
“Guys, can we not fight?” Miller begs, “I don’t like it when we fight.”
Claire stands up, “he is learning!” She screams, storming towards the stairs.
Well, that blew up fast.
“Not the day, Blair. Not the day.” Steph runs a hand down her face before following after her friend.
9:58AM
Happy birthday :)
Pixie
11:27PM
I need you
It took me all of ten minutes to rip out of my driveway and make it to her place.
The second I knock on her door, it swings open, revealing a man an inch or two shorter than I am, with the same bright eyes as Sasha.
“Can I help you?” He asks, arching a brow and crossing his arms. He looks tired, but not the kind of tired that comes from a lack of sleep. It’s the kind of tired I know all too well.
“Is Sasha home?” I ask him.
He scans me from head to toe. “You’re the boy,” he states.
A smile starts to curve my lips, “what makes you so sure about that?”
He laughs, “call it a father’s intuition. She’s in her room, you already know the way.”
I don’t stick around long enough to ask him any more questions, I’m taking the permission he’s granted me and running to her as fast as I can.
When I make it to her room, I stop in the doorway, watching her sitting in her bay window for a second. Allowing myself to take in the sight of her completely at peace, something I don’t get to see often.
“What’s on your mind, Pixie?”
Her head snaps towards me, and that’s when I realize she’s not at peace. There are tears hanging in her eyes, like she’s been quietly crying to herself so she doesn’t disturb anyone.
“Johnny?” My name comes out strangled and broken, and a tear falls slowly down her cheek.
I rush towards her, falling to my knees and wrapping her in a tight hug. She doesn’t hesitate to throw her arms around me in return.
“I can’t do it,” she sobs, “I can’t do any of this without him.”
Wiping a tear, I grab her face and force her to look at me. “You can, I’m right here, Pixie, I’m going to do this with you.”
“How could you possibly want to deal with all this?”
Because I’d rather die than see you upset.
“All of this? Baby, you aren’t a burden or a chore. I want to be in your life, and that means helping you through anything and everything.”
There’s doubt in her eyes, but she nods her head. “Do you-“
“How about we just sit here for a while? You’re going to try and force yourself to talk about it, and I don’t think that’s what you really want.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Grabbing her hand, I lead her to the bed. The second she’s tucked under the covers, I roll in next to her and wrap my arms around her waist.
We don’t get to do it often, but this whole cuddling thing has quickly become one of my favourite activities with her.
She’s quiet for a really long time, so long that I thought she might have drifted off to sleep, but when she flips over to face me, I’m all too aware of her.
Her hands resting on my chest, her eyes bright and fully open, the way her legs are intertwined with mine…
“If I kiss you right now, would that be okay?”
Yup.
Totally fine with me.
I don’t get to kiss her nearly enough.
“If you didn’t, I’d be pretty pissed at you.”
Kissing her isn’t a regular thing. I try not to do it too often, even though we’re both very aware of how we feel about one another, and we’ve moved well past the friend zone. I just can’t get myself to do it.
Don’t get me wrong, I want to do it all the time, but I’m still scared that I’m moving too fast for her.
I’m slowing everything down because I think it’s what she needs, but what if it isn’t? What if she needs it to get hot and heavy quickly? What if she needs the connection?
Am I an idiot, or am I just overthinking everything?
Probably both…
No, definitely both.
Her lips meet mine and I’m instantly brought back to our first kiss. It’s just as good as the first time, and I can’t think for even a second that it’ll ever grow old.
Her hands roam my body, feeling every curve of my muscles, playing with the short strands of my hair, fisting my shirt so she can pull me closer… everything she does makes me want her more and more.
The pure lust seeping out of me is almost too much to handle, and just as I’m about to pull back and tell her we should stop, she pushes me back.
“Door,” she breathes, “close the door.”
Her parents are home, and the last thing either of us needs is to have them find us in this position.
Her mom and dad would kill me.
I bolt up from our position on the bed and run to slam the door closed before quickly jumping back on top of her.
I’m so eager that I rip her shirt straight down the middle, buttons flying everywhere, but I have to stop and stare at the black lace bralette she’s wearing.
Jesus fucking Christ.
My mouth finds her chest immediately, placing gentle kisses over every inch of exposed skin that I can find. When my lips graze the thin lace, I feel my dick twitch in my pants, and while I would love nothing more than to fuck her brains out right now, I’m going to choose to torture myself instead.
Her eyes grow wide when I press against her thigh, “there’s no way that thing is fitting inside of me,” she squeaks.
“What’s wrong, Pixie?” I mock, “don’t think you can handle me?”
“That’s exactly what I just said… you’re fucking huge.”
Chuckling, I kiss my way down her stomach while untying the sweats she’s wearing. “Thanks for the ego boost, but this thing isn’t going inside of you today.”
I swear I see a flash of disappointment in her eyes, but the second I pull her pants down —along with her panties— that disappointment melts into heat.
“Fuck” I groan, “your pussy is so pretty.”
Sasha’s cheeks glow pink.
“Tell me you want it,” I demand, tracing a finger through her slit.
She stares down at me through hooded eyes, “I want it.”
Smirking, I press my finger inside of her, watching her back arch and listening to a moan escape her lips. Her walls contract against my finger, squeezing tightly, pulsing with every movement I make.
“Please,” she begs.
“Please what, baby?”
“I don’t even know, I just need more.”
Need. Not want.
I lick my lips, my grin half challenge, half promise.
Leaning my head down, I flick my tongue out, focusing on her clit until I find the spot that makes her whimper and grab ahold of my hair.
The taste of her short-circuits my brain. Everything else disappears.
It’s just Sasha, and she’s telling me everything she needs with her body, hips bucking and thighs clamping tight around my head.
I don’t stop until her legs are shaking and she’s gasping, pulling my hair so hard it stings.