SAVANNAH
Blake’s grip on my wrist tightened, his fingers rough and damp against my skin. He was my worst tormentor, and my daily reminder that invisibility is sometimes mercy.
He was fully clothed, ripped jeans hanging just right on his hips, white sneakers splattered with what looked like grass stains, and a collared shirt, half-unbuttoned and sticking to his chest. The fabric clung to his frame like it had no choice.
Gasps rippled through the crowd like someone had just slapped them all at once. The chant screeched to a halt, voices stammering into confused murmurs. Blake freaking Armstrong had just stopped the show.
"What the hell are you trying to do, Savvy?"
There it was—Savvy. His voice cut through the music and fog in my head. I blinked at him, unsure if I was hallucinating.
He was used to calling me that, Savvy, instead of my full name, Savannah. Then the nickname evolved into worse ones: Muffin, Chubs, Whale. So hearing him say it now, with something almost like concern, tilted my world sideways.
"What..." I croaked. My voice barely worked. "Why are you..." My eyes darted back to the crowd, still gawking.
He ignored my half-question. His eyes, usually mocking, weren’t cold tonight. They were blazing with anger and confusion, but not cruel like they usually were.
"You're not doing this," he said, pulling me closer. "Not for them."
My hoodie sleeve was still tugged halfway up, the hem of my tank top clinging to the skin I’d exposed. I crossed my arms over myself instinctively.
"They were chanting—"
"So what?" he snapped.
His tone wasn’t cruel, just fierce, like the way a lifeguard might yell at someone about to dive into shallow water.
"You think they'll suddenly love you after this? That they'll stop laughing behind your back?"
His words burned worse than the chants.
"I... I don’t know," I whispered. "Maybe. I don’t know what I was thinking."
"You weren’t thinking. That’s the point," he said, exasperated. "You’re too good for this freakshow."
That hit harder than I expected. Too good?
He turned to the crowd, eyes scanning the dumbstruck partygoers like a lion daring someone to step forward.
"Show’s over! Everyone back off!"
The command in his voice was absolute. No one argued or laughed. They just melted back into the music, the drinks, the dark corners of the party where the lights didn’t reach.
And then, in one swift movement, he spun around and pulled me with him.
"Come on."
I stumbled behind him, nearly tripping over my own feet as he made a beeline for the front of the house. I wanted to say something, anything, but my brain was short-circuiting.
This was Blake Armstrong, dragging me away like I was some damsel in distress and he was the antihero.
We made it past the living room, where people were already pretending nothing had happened, and out through the huge front doors. The night air was cooler here, quieter. The music thumped from inside but felt distant.
Finally, he stopped near the edge of the driveway, still gripping my wrist. I yanked my hand away, clutching it against my chest like he’d burned me.
“Why the hell will you do that, Savvy?”
I hugged myself tighter, hoodie now back in place, like it could somehow shield me from his confusing words.
"You should’ve let it happen," I said softly. "Maybe then they’d stop seeing me as a ghost."
"Screw that," Blake said. "If they can’t see your worth unless you strip for their attention, then they’re not worth impressing."
My chest tightened.
"Don’t pretend you’re different," I said, surprised at the confidence in my voice. "You’re one of them. You’ve always been one of them."
He stepped closer, and suddenly the air between us was thick with unspoken things.
"Really?" he asked. “Despite saving you from stripping…” he shut his eyes.
"Why did you save me?" I interrupted him.
He didn’t answer right away. His jaw shifted, eyes flicking down to my hands, then back up to my face.
"You don’t get to be nice to me once and expect me to forget everything you've done to me."
We stood there, the silence almost heavier than the noise inside. I shifted awkwardly, my arms still wrapped around myself like armor.
"You should go," I said finally. "They’re probably waiting for their king to return."
He snorted, without a word. He glanced at me once more, and something unreadable flickered across his face. "Go home now, Savvy. You're not needed here.”
Then he turned and walked back into the party, and I stood there under the night sky, with my mouth agape.