Page 41 of One Room Vacancy
ELEVEN
SAGE
The bathroom at Wes and Savannah’s is already too warm, the little box fan on the counter doing absolutely nothing against the lingering heat. The window’s cracked, but it doesn’t help much—just lets in the sounds of a lawn mower two yards over and the next-door neighbor’s very vocal cockapoo.
Savannah’s in a cropped tank and soft lounge shorts, her long red hair clipped up in a half-hearted twist that’s slowly coming undone. She’s dancing barefoot to the same pop remix that’s been in the girls’ group chat all week, singing into her foundation brush like a mic while I line my lips at the mirror beside her.
We’re meeting Gen and Hannah at Harry’s in an hour. Girls’ night, minus the drinks for Savannah—because pregnant people, apparently, don’t vibe with tequila.
We’ve done this whole pregame routine a hundred times. Loud music, shared mirror space, perfume clouding the air like fog. Usually we’re laughing, already a little unhinged before we even leave the house.
Tonight, I’m quieter than usual.
Not enough for most people to notice.
But Savannah does.
She always does.
“You haven’t judged a single song on this playlist,” she says, glancing at me through the mirror. “And you haven’t said you’re going to make out with a stranger just to feel something. Which, let’s be honest, is kind of your thing.”
I smirk, but it barely makes it to one side of my face. “Maybe I’m evolving.”
She twists the cap on her lip gloss and studies me like she’s already figured it out. “Or maybe you’re still thinking about Gabe.”
My hand stills just long enough for her to know she’s right.
I grab the sweating glass beside me and take a long gulp of the Tequila Sunrise Savannah insisted on making me.
“If I can’t drink,” she’d said earlier, one hand resting on her non-existent bump like it was her free pass for peer pressure, “you better drink enough for both of us.”
So, I am.
Kind of.
Savannah watches me over the rim of her compact. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s tequila,” I say, wiping my mouth. “It doesn’t need an answer.”
“Sage.”
I sigh and set the glass down a little too hard on the counter. “I’m fine, Sav.”
“You’re not,” she says gently. “You’ve been weird all week. And ever since you and Gabe made that ‘no sex’ deal—which, by the way, has got to be the dumbest agreement ever forged between two people who clearly want to crawl each other like jungle gyms?—”
“Jesus.” I laugh, half-choking on the rest of my drink. “Well, we already broke it once, so I doubt it’s that.”
Savannah stops mid-lip gloss swipe and turns her head slowly. “Excuse me?”
I wave a hand. “It was a one-time thing.”
“A one-time—? Sage. Babe, that’s not the kind of detail you just forget to mention.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
Sav gives me the most deadpan stare imaginable. “You slept with Gabe, again, after making a No-Sex Pact. That is, in fact, the definition of a big deal.”
I shrug, pretending I’m still interested in fixing my eyeliner. “The rule’s still in effect.”
