9. Savvy
“A-SIX.”
Dar hisses, glaring at me over the top of his board. “Hit.”
“You’ve been a gamer for how long? How are you still a sore loser?” I giggle, tucking my legs beneath me and holding out my palm. Dar drops a little ship into it.
“I’m not a sore loser, I’m just convinced you’re cheating and can’t work out how.”
“Is this your villain origin story?”
“No, but I suspect it’s yours.”
I burst into laughter, trying to ignore the butterflies that erupt in my belly at our banter. As I watch, Dar shuts his board sourly and gets to his feet, crossing to the pantry and calling over his shoulder, “Can I get you a victory orange soda?”
“Sure!”
This is the kind of stuff that makes it so hard to be objective about my feelings for him. It’s not like I’m desperately in love with some teacher who views me as any other student. Dar and I get along so well—we always have—and now I’m old enough to be more than just his best friend’s daughter.
Does he get lonely?
Does he think about me when I’m not here? Does he ever wish I would come back sooner?
There are so many questions that seem unanswerable, and the looming date of my departure for college is like a sword waiting to fall. Somehow, it’s become so important that I find out for sure before I leave.
I can’t stomach the possibility of my future self getting felt up at some frat party while Dar sits alone in this house hours away, feeling even the tiniest fraction of what I do.
I’m eighteen years old, and I’ve never even been kissed. How long can I keep this up? What’s better: keep pining away from a distance, hoping for a few hours together a few times a year, or to know for sure one way or another?
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I stand, wiping my sweaty palms on my shorts as Dar re-emerges from the pantry holding a soda for me and a bottled water for himself.
Outside, thunder booms loudly enough to make me jump, cutting through my preoccupation with the man in front of me.
He hands me the drink, frowning distractedly at the rain-streaked windows that line the room. “If this doesn’t stop soon, you’ll have to spend the night. I don’t want you driving in the dark during a storm.”
My heart flutters at the thought of seeing him first thing in the morning.
Does he get bedhead? I bet he does, and it’s probably adorable. “Another game?” I ask, and my voice sounds higher than usual.
Dar doesn’t notice. “I wouldn’t dare.” He chuckles, leaning back against the kitchen counter and taking a long sip of water.
I take a step closer, a thrill of fear and excitement traveling up my spine. If I took one step, I could take another, so I do. There are only four feet between us now.
“Will you miss me when I’m at college?” My heart pounds against my ribcage as Dar lowers his bottle, gazing at me through the gloomy light.
“You know I will.” He sounds annoyed that I even asked.
I didn’t know, actually. Not for sure. The man keeps everything so close to the vest; the closest I’ve ever gotten to a compliment from him was being told four years ago that my new haircut suited me. I remember, because it was the very first time Darwin Wilder gave me butterflies.
Swallowing, I wrap an arm around myself, my hand pressing over the fresh tattoo inked on my ribs.
I take another step, and Dar must realize I have something on my mind. We’re close together now. Too close. His expression goes wooden, and he stares at me, unmoving. “Savvy?”
Well… I’ve come this far.
Reaching out, my hands find his shoulders, warm and solid. Before he can say another word, before I can chicken out and pretend there was just a speck of lint on his shirt, I stand on my toes and press my lips to Dar’s.
He doesn’t move.
The whole room seems to have gone quiet around us. I can’t hear the rain, or the thunder, or anything at all except my own blood rushing in my ears. My sharp inhale sounds unnaturally loud as I pull away, just an inch.
We both stand still, suspended in time, and it feels like my whole life is hanging on this one moment.
Kiss me back. Please kiss me back. He doesn’t.
Then, everything seems to turn back on at once.
Dar wrenches himself away from me, so quickly that I stumble forward, catching myself on the countertop. He strides rapidly to the sink in the kitchen island and turns on the water. A quiet cry of horror breaks from my chest as his hand moves under the stream and back to his face—scrubbing my kiss away.
No.
This isn’t actually happening, is it? But, even as I ask myself the question, I know it is. I did this. Now, all I can do is watch, frozen to the spot, as he washes and washes, his movements growing more and more shaky. The roughness of his beard is still fresh on my face.
It’s not until my vision blurs that I realize I’m crying.
“Dar,” I whisper, because I can’t take it anymore. I can’t watch this.
He ignores me. Not knowing what else to do, I take a step forward, and that movement must break through whatever state I put him in. “Don’t.”
One word, and something deep inside me shatters.
Dar hits the faucet and leans over, bracing his hands on the counter.
His breathing is ragged. “What were you thinking?”
Tears are streaming down my cheeks now. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, pathetic and broken, as if a few words could ever be enough to fix this. “I didn’t think?—”
“No. You didn’t think, Savvy,” Dar snarls. To my horror, he makes a rough, gagging noise. Vomit hits the sink as my back hits the table behind me. I hadn’t even realized I was moving away.
I can’t help him, can’t undo the damage my actions have caused. I can just stand here, useless and horrified, with guilt clogging my throat.
Finally, Dar straightens up. His face is chalk white, and it seems like it takes him an inordinate amount of effort just to look at me. “Physical touch isn’t something I want or need.”
His words slide down my spine like ice, and I want to run away so badly. I don’t want to face what I’ve done, but I have to, because I’m paralyzed as my shattered heart rips me apart from the inside out.
His jaw is tight as he spits, “Why would you do that? Did you think I would welcome it? You’re a child. An irresponsible, selfish child, and tonight proves it.”
A helpless little noise breaks free from my lips, but I don’t reply. How could I?
Dar shakes his head, disgust evident in every strained inch of his body. “You crossed a line, Savvy. Fuck!” His fist comes down on the edge of the counter with a bang that I feel like a physical blow. “Get the fuck out. Now. Don’t come back. I mean it.”
The command unlocks whatever was frozen inside me, and I seize my bag from the table, running for the door. Ripping it open, I pelt out into the rain, my flip-flops slipping in the inches of water running down the driveway, and I fall. The pain of my skinned knee barely registers. Scrambling forward, I lunge for the car door.
“Savvy!” Dar bellows, the powerful volume of his voice cutting over the noise of the pounding rain and my own sobs. “Fuck—come back inside. Don’t drive in this!”
I ignore him. I don’t look. I don’t stop. My car speeds back, spraying water onto the windows. Before I turn out onto the street, though, I pause, looking back. I can barely see him through the rain, just a blurry silhouette standing on the porch of the big, lonely white house on the hill.
Every bit of this is my fault. Every word he said was the truth. I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, and the least I can do is honor his wishes.
This is the last time I’ll ever see Darwin Wilder.