1. Savannah

Chapter 1

Savannah

Devon drones on and on about the latest guy she's been seeing. He's too clingy. He's too sweet. He uses too much tongue when they kiss. I couldn't care less. He won't last long, they never do.

I tune her out, swirling my straw in my hot chocolate. She'll throw him to the curb before the end of the month. Then she'll be crying on my shoulder about how she can never find a good guy. A week later she'll find someone new and the process will start all over again. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

She doesn't want a good guy. She likes the bad boys who will break her heart, even if she'll never admit it.

"Sav? Are you kidding me right now!" Devon throws her arms up in the air, letting out the loudest sigh known to man. The couple at the table next to us glare at me like I did something wrong.

Sorry I don't care enough about her dramatics to participate in this conversation.

"I heard you. Ryan sucks, you're gonna break up with him, blah, blah, blah."

"That's not… well, I guess that is pretty much what I was going to say." She crosses her arms over her chest with a pout. "Am I really that predictable?"

"Not at all. I mean, it's only…" I glance at my smart watch, checking the date. "It's only the eighteenth. You're three days early this month. Ryan must suck more than the rest."

Her jaw falls open, she stares at me in shock and horror for a few moments, before she lifts her chin, holding her head up high. Devon isn't going to let anything I say get to her. Not externally anyway. She'll plaster a confident appearance on and bottle up her emotions until later.

"I won't apologize for not settling."

"No one's asking you to, Devon. Just… maybe you should hang out with these guys before you start dating. See if they're even worth your time."

"But… then I can't make out with them."

"Well… you can , no one will stop you." I shrug a shoulder, popping another piece of fruit into my mouth. "I doubt any of them will turn you down if you tried."

"If I go around frenching every guy I see, people are going to start talking."

"Probably. But do you really think they don't talk about you having a new boyfriend every month?"

"You can be such a bitch sometimes." She chuckles, a smile spreading across her face.

"It's called tough love, babe. And I think you need it. Stop screwing around with the jocks who only care about where they'll put their dick that night. Find a guy you can have an actual conversation with and date him. You like to push away the good ones and chase the bad."

Devon opens her mouth to respond but my obnoxious ringer fills the air. I hold up a hand to stop her, I've been trying to get ahold of Mom for a week. She's always running around like a chicken with her head cut off around the holidays. I know if I don't answer her now, it could be days before she gets back to me again.

"Hey, Mom!"

"Hi, sweetie. I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you. It's been… tense here."

"It's alright. I just wanted to know what is happening for Thanksgiving. I'm not going to drive home if you and Dad are going to be busy."

"Oh, shush. We're never too busy to spend time with our baby girl. Your booty better be here." I can hear the frown in her voice and I'm sure her hand is perched on her hip right now.

"I'll plan on coming then. I'll let you get back to… whatever's going on in the background." I chuckle.

There are pots and pans clanking together and Dad's yelling in the background. He's the stereotypical Italian man, louder than necessary and he talks more with his hands than he does with his mouth.

"Wait! I needed to tell you something." She must pull the phone away from her mouth because there's a whole murmured conversation before her voice comes back clearly. "Nixon's coming home."

"Oh, ok…" I say softly, unsure of what she expects me to say.

"I thought you'd want to know." And the frown is back. I swear she misses Nixon more than anyone else. He was the son she always wished for.

"I guess. You know we haven't spoken in years, right?"

"I know, but…"

"But what, Mom?" I huff out a frustrated breath. I know my parents are going to do everything in their power to push us back into the friendship we lost years ago.

"He might've asked for your number and I sorta gave it to him." The guilt in her voice is overwhelming.

"Excuse me? Are you kidding me? You just gave out my number without asking me first?"

"Savannah…" My name comes out on a sigh, "It's not a big deal. Talk to the boy. You're going to see him when you're home, you might as well be cordial to each other."

"But-"

"No. No buts. You're both adults, start acting like it. I really need to go before your father gives the new chef a heart attack. Bye, sweetie."

"Bye, Mom."

Shoving my phone back into my purse, I tamp down my irritation. There's nothing I can do about this. I can't take my number back from Nixon and I can't prevent him from coming home. I'm sure he's going to be at Thanksgiving. I might as well accept it and move on with my life.

When I glance up at Devon, her laser eyes are trained on me. I know she's going to ask a million questions and I don't want to deal with any of them right now.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" I let out a groan, barely resisting the urge to drop my head to the table and bang it a few times.

"Don't you dare what me, woman. Who haven't you spoken to in years?" She folds her arms across the table and leans forward like we're sharing a secret.

"Some guy," I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat.

"Oh, hell no! What guy? I need details." She claps her hands together loudly, starting the poor couple next to us. "You're blushing! You never blush! Who is he?"

"He's just a guy I used to know." I wave her off. The last thing I want to do is talk about Nixon and what happened between us.

"Is he hot?" She scoots to the edge of her chair, if she moves any closer, I'm fairly certain she's going to fall on her ass.

"I don't know! I haven't seen him since my sophomore year of high school!"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You haven't seen him in forever." She waves me off with an eye roll. "But was he hot the last time you saw him? Exactly how close were the two of you?"

"We were… it's complicated."

"That's what people say when they don't want to tell you the real story?" She smirks.

"I'm glad you understand that," I deadpan. "I won't have to make any more excuses on why I'm not telling you about Nixon."

"Nixon?" She rears back with a frown on her face. "I've never heard of a Nixon and we've been friends since our freshman year of college. You clearly weren't that close."

"He was my best friend for as long as I can remember…" I stare out the window of the little café without really seeing anything.

"You still haven't answered me! Is he cute? Please tell me he's model worthy hot." She places her elbows on the table and clasps her hands like she's praying.

"I don't know, ya weirdo. I haven't seen him in a really long time… He was never lacking in the past though."

A whistle from my phone alerts me to a new text message. I really need to change these annoying ringers. Just the sound of it going off sends my anxiety into overdrive.

Unknown: Hey, it's Nixon. How are you?

I stop breathing and my heart skips a dozen beats. I'm completely frozen. All I can do is stare at his name. I didn't believe he'd actually ask for my number. I figured maybe Mom gave it to him to encourage us to fix our friendship. But if he's texting me… he actually asked for it. Because if there's one thing I know about Nixon Russo, it's you can't make him do something he doesn't want to do.

"Oh! It's him, isn't it? Let me talk to him!" Devon reaches across the table, trying to grab my phone out of my hand. I swat her away as I collect my things and stand. "Ask him to send you a picture! I want to know what he looks like!"

"I have to go. I need to study and I don't have time to deal with you right now." I race out of the café before Devon can stop me. I wouldn't be surprised if she follows me all the way back to my place.

"Running away won't make me stop asking about him!" Devon shouts to my back. I know she isn't going to drop this. It's not in her nature to let things go. She pokes and prods until you lose your shit and spill all of your secrets.

I've never been more thankful to have my own apartment than I am right now. Nixon Russo isn't something I can deal with while others watch. Just hearing his name feels like a bucket of ice-cold water has been poured over my head. So many emotions rush over me. Anger, excitement, and nervousness are the biggest ones.

He disappeared from my life without a backwards glance and now he thinks he can just pop back in with a ‘Hey, how are you?', I don't think so. I'm going to teach Nixon Russo a lesson if it's the last thing I do.