She stands, pulling my shorts up with her and tucking my softening dick safely inside them. “You ready to go back?”
And just like that, I feel my resolve start to slip. She’s not trying to kiss me, or ask what this means. Maybe Tyson was wrong, and if that’s the case, I’m in even more trouble than I thought.
“You go first. I’ll wait a few minutes.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why?”
“Because. No one can know about this.” I grin as I wipe some cum from the corner of her mouth. “This is just getting rid of some built up sexual frustrations. Call it childhood fantasies, if you must. It won’t last forever, and once it fizzles out, things will go back to how they were.” I take a step back. “And besides, I wouldn’t want Kinsley finding out.”
She glares at me, practically shooting fire from her eyes. “You really are an asshole, you know that?”
“Never claimed to be otherwise, babe.”
Shaking her head, she walks away and back to her team. Maybe it was a dick move, throwing her so-called friend in her face like that, but I don’t want her to confuse this for something it’s not. She needs to remember what we are.
Just like I need to remember what I came here for.
THE RAIN POUNDS ON the roof of the school as the thunder cracks loudly outside. The fact that they even had us come in today is surprising, being as they’re expecting trees to be knocked over and there’s potential for tornados. I’m sitting in second period, the one class I have with just Savannah. No one watching my every move or analyzing the meaning of every glance her way. It’s just the two of us, alone in a stupid graphic design class.
Another bolt of lightning flashes. Judging by how closely the thunder comes after, it couldn’t have been more than a couple miles away. However, that’s not what surprises me.
One of the most vivid memories I have of Savannah from when we were younger is the time she slept over my house during a really bad storm.
I roll over in my bed, trying to drown out the sound of the downpour that’s happening outside. The wind blows harshly against the window, and I wonder how much force it would take for it to break. As another rumble of thunder sounds, I hear it mix with the sound of a muffled scream.
Savannah?
Slipping out of bed, I make my way across the hallway and into the guest room. Savi is curled up under the blanket, shaking uncontrollably. I close the door behind me and turn on the light.
“Sav? What’s wrong?”
She peaks her head out from the comforter. “N-nothing. I’m o-okay.”
Another bang and she screams, immediately going back to her hiding place. I chuckle softly and walk over to the bed, lifting the blanket and slipping under it with her. As I look at her face, I realize she’s been crying. The dried tears mix with the new wet ones leaking out.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were afraid of thunderstorms?”
She sighs, looking away from me. “I didn’t want you to think I’m a baby.”
I place my hand under her chin and lift it until our eyes meet. “I would never think that. Now, come here.” Putting my arms out, she willingly cuddles into me. “And besides, I’m just as bad with spiders.”
A giggle leaves her mouth. “You’re worse.”
“Am not.”
“Are too! The last time you saw one in the treehouse, you screamed so loud I heard it from my room.”
I poke her in the side, loving the way she squirms. “That was different. It was huge!”
“Whatever you say, wuss.”
That night, we fell asleep together, wrapped in each other’s arms, where no storm or spider could ever hurt us.
With one more crack of thunder, everything goes completely black. The only thing brightening the room is the very minimal light coming through the windows. Still, Savannah is yet to flinch once.
“All right,” Miss Lawson announces. “Grab your things and head to the gym. It looks like we’re going to take shelter in there until the storm clears and the power comes back on.”
I gather all my belongings quickly and make sure to stand next to Sav as we leave the classroom.
“When did that happen?”
Her brows furrow. “When did what happen?”
“You lost your fear of storms,” I explain. “I seem to remember a time when I needed to hold you so you’d stop screaming every time lightning struck.”
“Maybe that was just an excuse to get you to hold me.”
I hum. “Perhaps, but we were nine, and you were crying.”
She chuckles dryly, looking anywhere but at me. “Why do you care, Grayson?”
She’s right, I shouldn’t. The fucked-up fact that I do is not lost on me.
“Just humor me.”
Groaning, she turns around and looks me straight in the eyes. “About a year after you left, when thunderstorms became the least scary thing I dealt with.”
With nothing else to say, she walks away and leaves me alone to wonder what she meant by that. I saw how afraid she was that night, and there is no way it was a ploy to get in my arms. Her fear was too genuine, too painstakingly real to be faked.
My mind instantly remembers the bruise on her ribcage. She said it was from dance, but what if it wasn’t? I try to remind myself that her safety and wellbeing aren’t my problem, but the second I see Delaney in the hallway, it all goes out the window. She needs someone, and while it can’t be me, that doesn’t mean she should be alone.
“Laney,” I call out to her. She stops and waits for me as I catch up. “Hey. You and I need to talk.”
15
Savannah
Pirouette. Three rotations. Turnout. Grand jeté.
I throw myself into the moves, using each one to distract my mind from thoughts of Grayson. Lennon follows along with a mastered skill. We both move in sync, showing how compatible we are as a duet. Brady stands off to the side and watches the choreography for any errors while controlling the music.
“Lennon, work on your face. You look pained,” he tells her.
She laughs, not faltering in her moves at all. “You try keeping up with her. You’d be in pain too.”
I ignore their banter and focus on the routine. In the recital, I have four dances—a solo, a duet with Lennon, a duet with Brady, and a group routine with me as the featured dancer. It may be a lot to take on, but I’ve never liked anything more. Dancing is my escape, my happy place. When I’m letting my body get lost in a song, it’s like nothing else in the world matters.
Arabesque. Front Aerial. Fouetté. Turn. Run. Split. Pirouette. Turnout. Fall. Pose.
As the music ends, I can see how hard Lennon is breathing, while I’ve barely broken a sweat. She looks at me in disbelief and shakes her head as she falls to the floor.
“That’s it. I’m convinced. You’re superhuman.”
I grab my water bottle from the windowsill and sit down to rest against the wall. “No, I’ve just been doing this for years. Over a decade even. It’s all I know.”
Brady plays some background music and joins us on the floor to stretch, warming up for our duet. “I always judge Savannah’s mood on how hard she dances.,” he offers, and it reminds me of how well he knows me. “Like today, there’s something on her mind. Something she’s trying to avoid.”