Stuck In Savannah

2. What Connor Doesn't Know

“You didn’t even like him, Sav,” Connor pointed out, as if speaking to a lunatic.

“That’s irrelevant,” I insisted, not one to back down, or seeing how this had anything to do with what was going on between me and Rachel. “What if I did?” I speculated, tapping my finger against my chin, for a second there entertaining the idea.

“But you didn’t,” Connor pointed out, the smart-ass. “You thought he was a total bore,” he recited, getting this bored look in his eyes, like he was getting sick of arguing with me over nothing.

“But I might have!” I claimed, shrugging because it was true, you never know. “I might’ve really liked him and she would’ve stolen him anyways! She couldn’t have known that I had no interest in him.”

“No one can get stolen away,” Connor drawled, air-quoting me and rolling his eyes exasperatedly, “if they don’t allow themselves to be stolen away. Maybe he did all the stealing.”

“No, he didn’t. He couldn’t have.” I shook my head because I was sure of it.

“So what now?” he asked back, lifting his shoulders questioningly. “A guy’s not allowed to change his mind? Maybe he just didn’t like you as much as you thought he did.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed, folding my arms across my chest and staring straight ahead at the blank TV screen because I was getting really fed up with Connor. “This is not the first time. It just keeps happening and it’s the same shit every single time. A guy likes me and then Rachel decides that she simply has to have him, as if to rub it in my nose that she could if she wanted to. And she always wants to.”

“Hell, I’m even surprised that she didn’t try to seduce you, too!” I exclaimed, huffing as I threw my hands up in the air before I did a double take. “Did she?” I asked, suddenly turning my body around to face him, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end because God help her if she did.

“Savvy,” Connor started calmly, using his velvety voice to soothe me as he craftily avoided my line of questioning, a smart move on his part, “Rachel adores you and worships the ground you walk on. She just wants to be more like you, that’s all,” he explained simply to me, as if it was that easy. Nothing was that easy between two sisters that weren’t even a year apart.

I snorted, finding the notion ridiculous. Preposterous, even. There was no truth to Connor’s words at all. If he knew sweet little Rach as well as he claimed he did, he would’ve spotted the millions cracks in his farfetched theory, too.

“Jesus Christ, Sav, enough with the girl talk! It’s making my head hurt,” Connor suddenly bellowed, like he just realized something, glaring at me hatefully before continuing, “talk to Hannah about this shit, not me,” he said to me, sounding almost threatening.

“Think and say what you want, but I’m not talking to the little brat unless I absolutely have to,” I declared, lifting my chin up at him defiantly, deciding to listen to him and drop the subject for the time being.

“You’re the most stubborn person I ever met. You know that, right?” Connor asked conversationally at which I simply shrugged and said, “I try.”

***

The fact that Connor had an infinity pool overlooking the ocean had always worked in his favor. For obvious reasons. Just the view from his house-slash-mansion alone could make a girl take her clothes off for him in a snap. Not that any of them needed a lot of convincing to begin with. Some of them came to him wearing only their birthday suits anyways.

And that was where he found me, barely clothed myself, a couple of hours later, lounging and working on my tan, enjoying the view from the top while I could.