Chapter 4
Knightly
“He’s been fucking some poli-sci major for a month.” Savannah had already crawled under my blankets, grabbing my favorite pillow, the one with the extra fluff instead of the flat one I gave to overnight guests.
“Who? What?”
Her face half buried in the stuffing, she mumbled, “Cal.”
Ah, Cal. The pre-law frat guy she’d been seeing for the past six months.
The one she’d met at her job as a barista at the shop off campus.
Cal with the knowledge of wine lists and the internship lined up with his father’s firm.
With the annoying habit of getting a little too close to you when he talked, his laugh sounding like a dying donkey.
Stretching out beside her over the covers, I toed off my shoes and crossed my feet at the ankles.
Since the moment I’d opened my door to find Savannah standing on the steps, eyes red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy and wet, a gnawing sensation had been forming in my stomach, as familiar and unwelcome as the day she’d first mentioned him.
“How do you know for sure?” I asked, and a twinge in my neck told me I was clenching my jaw again.
Sniffling, she held up her phone with a long message thread between her and some girl with the username blueeyes_rebelsoul.
“Her name is Carrie, and she is perfectly sweet and swore she didn’t know about me, and isn’t that the fucking worst?
Now, I can’t hate her at all because she’s decent and he’s an asshole, and doesn’t it figure that he would go after a nice girl?
He was just telling me how much he loved me and was giving me a hard time about the other day when I was fifteen minutes late calling him when I was studying for my bioethics final and—” Her hand over her chest, she sucked in air like it was as thick as molasses.
The press of her palm was making her skin turn white from the pressure, a muscle in her jaw ticking as she swallowed each sob.
“Bana, take a breath.” I leaned over, taking her cheeks in my hands, her skin warm under my palms. “In and out.”
“No.” Her brows screwed up and her eyes once again welled with fresh tears. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Her bottom lip quivered as wetness tracked over my fingers.
“Don’t tell you to breathe?”
“Yeah, don’t.”
With the pad of my thumb, I rubbed away her sadness, trying and failing not to laugh. “Okay, I won’t tell you what to do anymore.”
She nodded at me, her nose red as she sniffled again. “Good, that’s good.”
Her eyes fell shut, and as her shoulders started shaking, I brought her face to my neck, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close to me.
Her hair smelled of the floral shampoo she always used.
Inhaling in greedy gulps, I let my eyes fall shut.
The front of my shirt was getting soaked, but I didn’t mind.
“Why wasn’t I good enough? What did I do wrong?” she grumbled, and I fought back all the things I wanted to say.
Nothing, you’re perfect. If I had you, I’d never let you go. I think about you constantly.
Countless times, I’d held Darcy while she’d cried, but this was the first time it was someone other than my sister. It was a wholly new feeling having Savannah wrapped in my arms, the trust she gave over to me as I held her wracking body undoing me.
“He’s an idiot. That’s why. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend. I know if I were prettier or we had sex more often or if I agreed to that threesome he wanted...”
My fist tightened on her shirt as she spoke, heat building inside me as she put herself down. There was nothing friendly about what I wanted to do to Cal—rip him apart limb from limb. But now was not the time for that.
Her cries turned to ragged breaths and then hiccups as she finally straightened. Her hands covered her face, wiping away the tears violently and turning her cheeks even redder. “Ugh, I’m such a fucking mess. Why do you put up with me?”
“You know why.” My voice was tinged with more, and I was sure I was giving myself away, but through her tear-stained rant, she must not have been able to hear.
She cupped my cheek, resting her forehead against mine, our noses touching.
“Because you’re my best friend.” Her words felt warm on my skin.
The wash of her breath, the sweet glance of her fingers on my jaw as she pulled away, it was too much. As her eyes opened, I could see the little flecks of gold and green in her irises—the hazel of every color mixing, every emotion, somewhere between brown and green with the slightest edge of blue.
With a slow inhale, she pulled away, her fingers still resting on my cheek. “The best. Always,” she murmured before leaning in again.
The first brush of her lips could have been an accident, a twitch as she took in fresh air. The second was deeper, slower. Her breath fanned over me, her mouth pressing against mine.
I shouldn’t allow it, knew she was in a dangerous place and to kiss her now would be a mistake, but for a count of thirty, I allowed her lips to move over mine, her tongue to swirl sweetly in my mouth.
With her leg thrown over my lap, she sat down on me, her center rubbing along the edge of my zipper.
“Bana, we can’t,” I choked out as her fingers wove through my hair, pulling me closer.
She squirmed, my dick reacting exactly the way it was meant to when a beautiful woman was grinding against it. I had mere moments before I lost all semblance of rationality.
“Please,” she whimpered, her breasts pressing against my chest, her nipples hard. “I’m so sad. I just want to feel good.”
Any other girl, any other situation, those words would be enough. But this was Savannah, my Savannah. I wasn’t going to have her like this—heartbroken. A filler for the stupid ex who’d hurt her, a rebound for an asshole.
“No. We can’t.” I leaned back, my hands on her hips, and fuck if her warm skin wasn’t even softer than in all my late-night fantasies.
“Please?” Her mouth moved over my throat, and I had to grab her upper arms, pushing her off me and setting her on the bed to get the distance I needed.
“No, Savannah.”
This time, her name, my tone, broke through and she glared at me.
“Fine.” Twisting her body, she put one foot down on the floor and began to rise. Her shirt fell off one shoulder, three little freckles bunched together. How many times had I wondered what they tasted like? Now I might never know.
“Where are you going?” I huffed out.
“Home. Obviously, I’ve embarrassed myself enough, and you don’t want me here.”
“I didn’t say that.” Reaching forward, I wrapped a hand around her arm and pulled her back down on the bed. “We just can’t do that.”
Not now, at least. Give me a real chance and I’ll keep all of you.
“Well, I figured if anyone would be down for a quick fuck, it would be you, right? Sorry, I got you wrong.”
I almost loosened my grip, the statement had me reeling so hard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She snorted. “What do you think, Knightly? Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to listen to girls in my classes talking about your skills in the bedroom?
Your magic tongue and the things you do with your hips?
I’ve never seen you naked, but I know exactly what that birthmark on your inner thigh looks like.
” She swallowed, shaking her head. “But you don’t want me, got it. ”
“That’s not—Don’t say—” I shook my head, all the right words evaporating on my tongue.
This wasn’t the time for confessions. She was hurting, and I needed to tread carefully.
“I don’t want to take advantage of the situation when you’re so upset.
Just come here. Lie down. We can watch that show about the boyfriends who travel around the country in their old car you love so much, and you can explain who each actor is and what other projects they’ve been in until I can’t keep track of the plot. ”
I pulled the blanket down for her, my hand still on her arm. Her bleary eyes stared me down, her lower lip still trembling but also plumper from kissing me. If that was what she looked like after thirty seconds, I couldn’t imagine after being ravaged.
No, I couldn’t think about that. She needed a friend.
Her best friend. As much as it hurt for her to think of me as some fuckboy, she hadn’t been wrong.
Anyone but her and I would have done it.
Tears be damned. But this was my sweet, funny, full of herself, and big-opinioned Savannah, the one who’d introduced me to the British time travel show and let me pretend not to love it.
The one who’d bought me chocolate croissants because she’d known I wouldn’t buy them for myself.
The woman who somehow preferred orange marmalade over all the other options out there.
I refused to fall to this moment of weakness, because she had been cheated on. It would destroy what we had, and her friendship meant too much to me.
“They’re not boyfriends. They’re brothers.” She sniffed, but she lay down just the same, tucking the blanket under her chin. “I want to watch the musical episode, season ten.”
As the first song started on the screen, Savannah grabbed my hand, lacing her fingers with mine. My thumb traced the freckles on her knuckle, each little dot a story.