Down and Out(76)

My jaw clenches as I rest my hands on her doorframe. Every instinct in me is screaming to fight for her, to shove my way into her room and into her heart, but I can’t risk pushing her away even more. I’ve already done a stand-up job of that thanks to my little shower stunt.
I really thought she’d try and get back at me in a similar fashion, but instead she’s been giving me the cold shoulder. As much as I hate it, I have to admit, it’s a well played move. These last two weeks of not talking to her, not seeing her, but knowing she’s right down the hall?
It’s been hell.
I even tried giving her a taste of her own medicine by avoiding her, but I’m pretty sure it went unnoticed. After all, how could she notice I’m not around when she’s not?
And now tonight, just out of the blue, she acts like everything’s back to normal.
What—the—hell.
I can’t keep up with her mood swings. Is she done freezing me out? Or is this the beginning of another shower incident?
I mean, if she wanted sex, all she had to do was say so. She didn’t have to go through the pretense of “dinner,” especially since she hasn’t cared enough to wait up for me before tonight.
Damn it, the more I think about this, the more pissed I get, and I can’t afford that right now. I need to be smart about this. Every decision I’ve made about this girl has been a gut reaction, and look where it’s gotten me: I’m trying to talk myself out of crossing enemy lines and starting what will surely be World War III. Savannah threw the first grenade with her “You’ve lost that right” comment, and it landed just fine. ’Bout blew me to bits, but I’m still standing. And if I go in there and return fire, there’s probably not going to be any survivors by the time we’re through.
I need to just take a breath and walk away. Talk to her when I’ve had a chance to cool down. We’re both pissed off, and if I steamroll in there angry and hurt, it’ll only escalate things from bad to threat level: midnight.
I know all this, and yet my gut is telling me not to walk away. It’s still telling me I need to fight for what I want.
I’m mad as hell and I think I might even hate her a little, but I still want her. Goddamn it, I do. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pushing myself away from her door. I pace the hallway, tugging on my hair to keep from putting my fist through the wall, when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I absently pull it out and look at the screen, seeing a text alert from Blake. Swiping my thumb across the screen, I read:
Goin’ to Paddy’s tonight. You in?
I glance at Savannah’s door, thinking it might not be a bad idea to get out of the house for a bit. I can’t ruin things if I’m not here . . . right?

? ? ?
Rushing water has me groggily opening my eyes, and as soon as I do, I immediately regret it. Groaning, I shield my gritty vision.
Holy shit, is the sun in the room with me? Why is it so goddamn bright in here? And why does the light make my eyeballs feel like they’ve been scooped out with a rusty spoon and haphazardly stuck back in?
My head kills. My mouth feels drier than the Sahara. Add that to the general layer of shame and regret I feel sticking to my skin like an unwashed coat of sweat and it’s obvious I did something incredibly stupid last night. You know, besides drinking my weight in whiskey.
When I can peel my lids open, my old bedroom at my grandparents’ place comes into focus. It still looks the same as when I left it, even though the house belongs to Blake now.
Doesn’t surprise me, though. What’s he gonna do with a spare bedroom besides let it collect dust?
My brain sloshes around in what surely has to be a gallon of Wild Turkey as I slowly sit up. The pain ricocheting around my head has me pinching the bridge of my nose as I blink, making the various band posters lining nearly every inch of the walls come in and out of focus.
About the time I realize I’m naked, I also realize the sound of rushing water’s coming from the bathroom that connects my old room to Blake’s old room. Craning my neck, I see a half-naked girl in nothing but her skivvies brushing her teeth.
My blood turns cold as I watch, frozen in horror, until she notices me staring and smiles around her toothbrush. “Mornin’, sunshine.” Her eyes roam over me appreciatively, and I haul the plaid sheet higher around my waist.
I didn’t. Holy mother of God, please tell me I didn’t.
My stomach churns, but it’s not from of the booze. I try and filter through the hazy memories of last night, but I have no recollection of sex.
Then why does the half-naked chick look so familiar?
Fear rolls down my spine.
Pushing through the cobwebs of sleep and about a dozen shots, I struggle to remember last night. I remember meeting Blake at Paddy’s, and. . .
The brunette in the bathroom was there. She came up to me when I was only two sheets to the wind. Normally she would’ve been right up my alley with all her tight, revealing clothes and perfectly made-up face, but I couldn’t have been less interested.
I remember thinking this girl’s lips wouldn’t be as soft as Savannah’s, and it wouldn’t be as sweet to hear her say my name while I was inside her. It’d still feel nice—sex always does—but I didn’t want “nice,” not when I had heaven waiting for me at home.
Mad or not, Savannah’s still mine, and I wouldn’t have— I mean, I didn’t think I would’ve—
Oh, God. This cannot be happening.
An incredibly hollow feeling overtakes me as I realize whatever Savannah and I had is truly over. It’s dead, and I’m the one who put the final nail in the coffin.