Page 56 of Darlin'

That's it. I'm burning it. I peep throughmy fingers, swallowing as I stare at the demon book. In a hundred more pages.

Maybe Iama masochist, after all. Or just deprived. Either way, I'm screwed. Figuratively speaking.

Unfortunately.

CHAPTER 17

Where There’s Smoke

"Savannah?"Andy perks up a confrontational brow as she hikes up the heel of her foot on the camping chair. Pippa, Marlow, Jo, and the rest of the SOS women turn toward me, silent and eager as they wait for my response. "Well? Body count, let's hear it."

I groan, anxiously tapping the neck of the Smirnoff Ice nestled between my thighs. Distant cackles boom from the other side of the bonfire. I wonder what the boys are laughing so damn hard about. Maybe they're also comparing their lists of sexual conquests. A bitter taste coats my tongue. I'm almost glad that the men and women naturally separated a few hours ago. It's like grade school all over again. Girls on one side of the fire, boys on the other. It's better this way. I don't want Jesse to hear about my abysmal dating history, and I sure as hell don't want to hear about his.

"Damn, girl." Pippa laughs, balancing one of her kids on her lap. "You gotta think that long about it? Okay, I see you." She smirks. "And I like it."

"As if." Andy scoffs. "I'd be surprised it was over ten."

"Ten?" I blink, choking on my cooler. "That's...a little?"

Marlow snorts. "For Andy, maybe."

"Don't make me steal your boyfriend." Andy shoots daggers at Marlow. "You know I could."

Marlow flips Andy the bird. "I'd like to see you try, bitch."

Jo sighs. "Easy girls, we're here for a good time, not a fucking catfight. If you wanna brawl, do it tomorrow."

Marlow grins at Andy. "I'm free? Are you?"

Andy holds up her freshly done nails. "I would, sweetie, but these are new, and you're not worth the touch-up fee."

"Yeah, yeah," Marlow jeers, scowling. "You know I'd kick that flat little ass of yours."

Andy's jaw drops. "Flat?! My ass is not flat, trust me." She stands up and lifts her hoodie up, showing us her backside. I nod, silently agreeing with Andy. That's one well-kept buttock if I've ever seen one. "My ass is perfect."

"Put your ass away and sit down already," Pippa groans, rolling her eyes. She glances in my direction. "Let's get back to the game. Savvy?"

"Right," I hum, much preferring to stay on the topic of Andy's assets. Swallowing, I peep out, "Well...I guess...I guess it's two...I think."

Pippa blinks. "I'm sorry, did you say two?" She whips her head at Marlow, frowning. "Did she say two?" Pippa looks around the semi-circle of tipsy women. "Did you guys hear her say two?" She lets out a long breath, shaking her head. "Honey...are you okay?"

"Actually, it's more like one," Marlow chimes in, giggling. I melt into the camping chair, embarrassed, as she looks over at me. "I don't think the first one counted." She addresses the group. "She couldn't tell if it was in or not."

Kill me now. This is why liquor is Satan's favorite juice. Pops the lids off secrets like no other. Not that I told her to keep it to herself, but I assumed that was a given. Foolish. Note to self, Marlow's a blabbermouth.

"Couldn't tell if it was in—" Andy's tone indicates she's about to rip me apart, and I'm not willing to give her the satisfaction.

"I was sixteen, and it was my first boyfriend, and we were both nervous, okay?" I say quickly, leaping off the chair and downing my drink. "I'm getting a little chilly. I'm gonna go sit by the fire for a minute. Y'all enjoy the rest of the game."

"Sav!" Marlow calls out as I seek refuge from the prying posse. "Come back! I'm sorry! Sav!"

I ignore her, walking away. A break is desperately needed.

The dancing flames from the bustling fire illuminate my face as I sit down on one of the surrounding logs. I catch the corner of a s'mores kit leaning against the side of the log and fish out a marshmallow, stabbing it on the tip of a makeshift roasting stick.

"You're going to burn it." Jesse's deep voice startles me as he steps over the log and sits down. I rotate the stick a hundred and eighty degrees. "No." He chuckles, setting his beer on the ground. He takes the stick from my hand and holds it higher above the fire. "Like this.You don't want it directlyinthe fire, or it'll lightonfire." I sigh, staying silent, but that doesn't stop Jesse. "Trust me, a burned 'mellow is s'more killer."

"Never had one," I mumble out, resting my chin in my palm. Amongst other things. "Too much sugar."

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