CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE #2
It should make me feel stupid, being the girl who falls for the fuckboy—knowing I don’t stand a chance at anything real with him. But there’s also a trembling, impossibly stubborn part of me that so badly wants it to be possible.
Savannah’s lips upturn the slightest bit.
“Lina, if he’s playing you, then he’s playing me too.
To me, you’re his obvious choice. I can’t possibly believe that he could play you when he looks at you the way he does.
” She pushes off the doorframe and steps fully back into the bathroom.
“If you need to walk away, that’s your call.
But don’t do it because you’re scared he doesn’t care.
Because he does. Way more than he knows how to handle sometimes. ”
I should walk away. I know that.
For a second, I think I can stay silent and pretend I’m fine. But the words claw out of me before I can stop them.
“I don’t see how he could ever want me more than he wants you,” I whisper, my voice so thin it barely exists. “I mean—look at you.”
I’m the kind of girl guys tolerate until someone more convenient comes along. Someone they don’t have to tiptoe around. Someone whose body doesn’t freeze up at the thought of being touched too long or kissed too deeply.
There’s such a huge possibility that Grant could find someone else. Just like Gage did. And I’ll only have myself to blame.
It’s never bothered me before. I’ve never been insecure of myself, but this is different.
I’ve been chosen before, but I’ve never been kept.
Savannah doesn’t move.
She looks at me, and it’s not pity in her eyes. It’s something heavier. Like she knows exactly what it feels like to stand in this spot, breaking open.
“You think it’s easier to be me?” Savannah’s voice wobbles. “You think being the girl everyone wants to touch but no one wants to choose feels good?”
Tears burn down my cheeks before I can stop them, hot and humiliating. I press a hand over my mouth, but a broken sob slips out anyway.
Savannah’s face crumples when she sees it, like she feels it in her own body. And before I can even think, she’s pulling me into her arms.
“There’s nothing that’s not beautiful about you,” she whispers into my shoulder.
“I mean, sure, I have the bright platinum hair that is practically designed to draw attention. I might turn heads for a second , but you?” She pulls back to look at me with the biggest smile, tears clouding her eyes.
“You have the kind of beauty people notice without even understanding why. It’s not loud.
It’s not overpowering. It’s the kind that stays with you. It wrecks you a little.”
I break harder at that, full-blown sobs tearing free before I can even try to stop them. Her hand rubs slow, steady circles over my back.
Both of our under-the-skin insecurities are coming to the surface, and it’s so polarizing to see how similar they truly are.
“You’re the one he can’t stop finding in a crowded room, Lina,” she says fiercely, voice thick with emotion.
“You’re the one he’d lose himself for, and I know he might tell you he only wants something temporary, but you have to listen to me when I tell you that you are different for him. You just have to be patient.”
I nod my head against her shoulder, but she just squeezes me tighter.
“It’s not a contest,” she whispers. “It never was, because you’re the only one he sees. I was never even in contention.”
The words wrap around something raw inside me—something bruised and splintered—and for the first time, I let them stay. I let myself want to believe them.
“For the record,” she says, her voice breaking too, “I wish someone looked at me the way he looks at you.”
It’s not cruel. It’s not bitter.
It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.
And only because I know she’s not talking about Grant. I can see her intentions clear as day.
I wipe under my eyes, trying to gather whatever scraps of dignity I have left. “This is embarrassing,” I mutter, forcing a half-smile. “Pretty sure we’re supposed to be mortal enemies or something.”
Savannah lets out a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess we’re screwing that up.”
I glance at her, feeling a strange kind of warmth spark between us. “You’re actually really hard to hate.”
She lifts a shoulder. “Don’t worry. I can be awful if you need me to be.” No, she can’t.
Savannah has had every reason to hate me, and she never has. Not once.
I laugh—really laugh—and the tension cracks open a little more. Savannah smiles too, easier now, like maybe she needed it as much as I did.
“Too late. Now you’re stuck with me.”
“Well, you’re lucky. I’m an exceptional friend, Everhart.”
And in that moment the realization dawns on me that both of us might not need Grant, but we do need each other.
From the outside looking in, everyone might expect us to be at odds, but we’ve found something far more lasting between us. Something that doesn’t ask for approval, and that’s the beauty of Savannah Sinclair’s selflessness.
“We’ll talk again soon, right?”
After a minute, Savannah pulls back, wiping under her own eyes with a trembling laugh. “Go find him, Lina,” she says, nudging me gently toward the door. “Let him see the girl he’s been looking for all night.”