I didn’t cry over breakups.
Savannah was just... different. She wasn’topen, but she also wasn’t so guarded that conversation with her felt stilted. She told me that she and her dad attended many dinners and functions, and I quickly understood that’s how she became so skilled at the art of conversation, but she wasn’tfalse. Mature definitely, until you mentioned her boyfriend, then she became a giggling girl, but other than that... she was cool.
I liked her.
I wasn’t sure I likedthat.
We were discussing movies. She did not accept thatThe Empire Strikes Backwas the best of theStar Warsmovies. She thought — and as she said it, I tasted bile — thatThe Phantom Menacewas, because it was, and I quote,fun.
We’d been debating it for the last twenty minutes. But we were getting closer to Mary’s neighborhood, and I needed mygame face on. “Okay, so we’re about five minutes out,” I said, changing the subject.
Savannah drummed her fingers on her thigh as we turned down a narrow side street lined with old brick walk-ups and front porches decorated with mismatched chairs.
“This is where she lives?” Sav asked.
“Apparently,” I muttered, triple-checking the address.
“Looks like the kind of street where someone definitely has a cursed doll in the attic.”
I glanced at her. “That’s comforting, thank you.”
“I’m just setting expectations.”
I glared at her again. Savannah grinned. God help me, I really did like her company.
We parked. I stared at Mary’s house. The last time I’d been here, I was a roommate with a friend. A friend who’d betrayed me in the worst way possible, and I hadn’t seen her since.
Sav looked between me and the house. “Is there a story I need to know?” she asked quietly.
“No.” I opened the car door. “Let’s go.”
We walked up the path, and before I even had a chance to hesitate, Savannah knocked before I could change my mind. We waited; Savannah must drive Dante insane, because where he was renowned for being patient and calm, she was already knocking on the door again.
I heard footsteps, and I shuffled my feet nervously on the porch.
The lock clicked, and then the door opened to reveal Mary Chance — same sharp cheekbones, same statement eyeliner, and an expression that said, ‘I expected the apocalypse before I expected you.’
Her eyes flicked from me to Savannah.
“Hadley?” Mary looked confused. “Is that... Why are you here?”
“Hi,” I said, putting on what I hoped was a friendly smile and not my please-don’t-kill-me smile.
Savannah stepped forward, sunshine incarnate. “Hi, Mary! I’m Savannah Cole.”
“Cole?” Mary asked flatly. Her eyes flicked to mine. “As in Dean Cole?”
“Yes.” Savannah didn’t even blink.
Mary gave me a look that said ‘we’d discuss this later,’ and then she stepped aside. “And if I close the door?”
“The doorbell seems to work. I’ll just keep ringing it.”
She held my stare, then her shoulders slumped. “Come in, I guess.”
Her front room looked like a creative explosion — books piled everywhere, half-drunk iced coffees, three laptops, and a corkboard full of newspaper clippings that definitely weren’t for interior décor.
Some things never changed, I guess. We sat when she pointed to the sofa. Mary didn’t offer drinks. Or snacks. Or politeness.