“You’re a real Casanova, Hall.”
He clutches his chest and pulls out the chair beside Noah.
“Hey.” Noah reaches across the table, resting his hand on my forearm.
This really isn’t the place or the company that I want when we have the ‘What the hell are we doing?’ conversation. Thankfully, my phone vibrates, saving me from having to pretend that things are fine.
“I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”
34
noah
The tension isimpossible to ignore. From the minute I sat down, Savannah barely looked at me. She’s not being cold, but distant in a way that I haven’t felt from her in weeks. I watch her from across the library as she pulls her phone away from her ear, and there’s deep concentration etched on her face as she walks back to our table, tapping her phone against her palm.
“What’s up?” Maverick asks, oblivious to the crease between her brows as she sits back down.
“I… I got the job.” It comes out as more of a question than anything else.
“Alright, Sassafras!” Maverick shouts, lifting his big arm across the table for a high five, ignoring all the glares and shushing he’s getting.
She taps his hand back lightly, but her focus is completely dazed.
“I knew it couldn’t be as bad as you thought it was.” I smile, and rub her slumped shoulder.
“I smashed his balls,” she deadpans.
I grind my teeth together, wincing, while Maverick barks out a laugh.
“Maybe he just likes rough play,” he says.
We both turn our heads to him. Savannah’s lips turn down to hide her smirk, and my eyes narrow, silently telling him to shut up or get lost.
Unfortunately, my bark is bigger than my bite, and he knows it. He rolls his eyes with a big ass grin as he stands from the table. “Congrats again, Sass.”
Savannah’s eyes stay glued to the table. I place my hand on her thigh and try to give her a comforting stroke of my thumb, and it seems to pull her from her thoughts.
“I should get going, too.” She blinks, grabbing her things, and my hand falls as she abruptly stands.
I feel like I’m ten steps behind her. Like, even though I’m with her, the boulder that lives on my chest is extra heavy today, keeping me just below the surface.
I don’t wait for my brain to try and catch up. She’s already halfway to the door.
“Hey,” I call out as I jog to catch up to her. “Wait up.”
Her feet keep moving without falter, as if she didn’t hear me.
“Savannah!” I grip her elbow, turning her to face me. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, opening the door.
“Something is going on with you, I can tell.” She doesn’t say anything, but she at least looks at me head-on. “Talk to me.”
“It’s frustrating, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“Wanting to help the person you care about, but they won’t open up to you.” She quirks a knowing brow at me, and I tuck my hands into my pockets, feeling called out. She’s right, but she doesn’t understand that it has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. When I don’t respond, she shakes her head with a slight huff. “I’ve got to g?—”
