3 #2
He lifted the can to his lips with one hand and splayed the other against the kitchen counter, mostly to ground himself. He was a grown man, for Heaven’s sake, not an awkward, gangly teenager; he shouldn’t be so shaken up just to have some girl in his house.
Not some girl. This girl.
The television announcers were giving a rundown on the Tennessee starting line; Jonah and their cousin James were singing “Rocky Top” at the top of their lungs; and Brooklyn and Ashlyn, another cousin, were chattering on about whether or not they needed more snacks, but somehow Drew didn’t hear any of it—like the soundtrack of his life had been muted.
Instead, he stared blankly across the living room and listened, every cell in his body on high alert for the minute sounds coming from beyond the front door.
The scrabble of Ryker’s nails against the porch floor. A muffled voice in welcome. Footsteps on the wooden boards. And then, a knock.
“She’s here!” Brooklyn squealed, and she darted for the door.
But Drew didn’t move. Not one inch.
He watched as if in slow motion as the front door opened and afternoon light streamed inside the small space. Brooklyn greeted Savannah first before turning to reintroduce the rest of the gang.
Breathe, Drew reminded himself. She’s nothing special.
“So, where’s Jake?”
Savannah’s question brought everything screeching back to normal speed and volume, including the sucker punch that seemed to land somewhere around Drew’s navel.
Jake. Of course she was hoping to see Jake!
he thought bitterly. His older cousin, Jake Tanner, was gone and married now, but Savannah was unlikely to know that.
Instead, what she’d remember was the Jake she’d cheered for at soccer games and tried to dunk in the river while the others were swimming.
Time doesn’t change anything, now does it?
Drew felt his features grow hard, his normal mask slipping back on. It wasn’t that Savannah wasn’t special, it was that he wasn’t special to her. Never had been, never would be. There was no use crying about it.
If there was an answer to her question, Drew blocked it out. He didn’t want to hear the disappointment in her voice when she found out the golden boy was off the market for good.
“Hi,” she said a moment later, when she’d finally made her way to where he stood. “I brought cupcakes.”
He glanced down at the tray in her hands and then back up at her face, though he didn’t respond. She was wearing the same green overalls she’d had on at the market, but she’d unbraided her hair in the hours since they’d parted ways. He hated that his mind had cataloged these details, but it had.
“You do like cupcakes, don’t you?” she prompted.
Drew knew he was being incredibly rude, but he couldn’t seem to make his mouth form words. It was like the muscles in his lips and tongue had forgotten how to move. So instead, he stared her down, hoping maybe she would take a hint and go away.
But he had no such luck.
To his surprise, Savannah leaned farther across the counter and returned his gaze with a steady one of her own. “I’ve got bad news, Andrew Tanner,” she said.
Drew bristled, his brow tugging down around his eyes. Nobody but his parents called him Andrew. Nobody had the nerve.
“What’s that?” he finally managed to say.
Savannah smiled sweetly. “I’ve decided that you and I are going to be friends this time around, whether you like it or not.
” She raised her chin defiantly, as if daring him to argue.
“So do your worst, plowboy. I’m not scared of you.
” Then, she winked—winked!—and sauntered toward where the others were gathered around the television.
Drew stood motionless, his drink still clutched in one hand.
What’s a plowboy?
Hours later, Drew knew the Volunteers had won, but he couldn’t say how or why. He’d spent most of the game sulking in corners, trying not to care about how much fun Savannah had been having without him.
It’s not like you tried to participate, a firm voice scolded. He shrugged it off, as usual.
He waited just inside the living room window and watched as Brooklyn and Ashlyn stood beside Savannah’s car and talked to her through her open window—probably making plans for the next amazing thing they would do together.
Good. Maybe she’d be too busy enjoying their company to remember her promise from earlier.
And you would hate that, now, wouldn’t you? that same voice taunted. He tried to drown it this time with the last swig of his third soda. A heavy hand clapped onto his left shoulder, jarring him out of his thoughts.
“So, Savannah, huh?” Jonah asked, a smile in his voice. “She’s sure changed since we were kids.”
“Well, she’s not fourteen anymore,” Drew grumbled.
“Exactly! We’re grown-ups now. Adults.”
Drew didn’t answer, unsure where the conversation was going.
“She seems cool. Plus, I mean, she’s gorgeous; a guy would have to be blind not to notice,” Jonah went on, apparently oblivious to Drew’s discomfort. “I was thinking about stopping by the vet’s office next week and seeing if she might want to get dinner. You know . . . shoot my shot.”
Drew felt his blood turn to ice, and his heart stopped beating.
Jonah immediately released him and started to laugh. “Ooookay!” he said, drawing the word out. “So, we call that ‘recon,’ and what I just learned is that you’re still hung up on this girl and need to grow a pair and do something about it.”
Drew let out a long exhale and reminded himself that this man was family and holidays would be a lot different if he strangled him.
Savannah’s car backed away from the porch and started down the driveway, and the front door opened as Brooklyn and Ashlyn came back inside.
“What do you think?” Jonah asked the girls.
“About what?” Ashlyn replied.
“About whether or not Drew should ask Savannah out?”
“Oh, please do!” Brooklyn begged, dropping onto the closest couch cushion. “She’s wonderful.”
Drew glared at them each in turn, and Jonah huffed out an exasperated sigh.
“Okay, team, let’s play ‘what is Drew thinking?’” he announced. “I’ll go first. ‘There’s no way she’s interested.’”
“‘I’d have to talk to her,’” added Ashlyn.
“‘She’d rather have someone else,’” chimed Brooklyn.
“‘She’d wish I were Jake,’” Jonah cut in.
The room went silent as all three pairs of eyes zeroed in on him.
“What?” Jonah asked with a shrug. “Everyone’s thinking it, I’m just saying it out loud. You’ve been stuck on the fact that she went out with him and not you for nearly a decade. You’ve got to let it go.”
The girls nodded knowingly.
“Jake and Savannah dated ages ago. They were children!” Brooklyn said. “And honestly, I always thought she was more into you, anyway.”
“You were ten,” Drew deadpanned.
“Exactly!” she cried, clearly exasperated. “I was ten, but Savannah acted like my best friend anyway. Why would a teenage girl have spent so much time with me unless she was hoping to run into you?”
The silence that followed this comment weighed heavily on Drew’s mind; that wasn’t exactly the way he remembered things.
Several expectant moments passed before he felt a hand on his shoulder again.
He turned and found Jonah—his best friend for half their lives—watching him with understanding on his face.
“You can live in the past, or you can take advantage of the here and now,” the younger man said. “Savannah is here . . . now. Don’t count yourself out.”
Drew met his cousin’s gaze before turning to the girls, both of whom were wearing wide-eyed, hopeful expressions. They clearly all believed what they were saying was possible.
So why did he find it so hard to do the same?