legs.
Forgetting his past, his worries, his crimes, whatever they were. Deciding that she was worth it. Pulling her panties down, carrying her into the bedroom…
Her rational mind took over. It said: Savannah, you’ve never been sexually aggressive toward men . Are you really going to start now?
She’d rarely made the first move, preferring not to take that huge risk of rejection. The one time she’d asked a boy out on a date, it was ninth grade. John Ericsson, freshman class president and all-around smart, funny, cute guy. With shaking hands, she’d called him on the phone and said maybe they could be more than friends. His words hurt so much, they’d stuck in her brain forever: “No, I don’t think so.”
But something had changed in her since she’d seen Zac in the coffee shop that day. Each time she saw him, she wanted him more and more, and now she knew that he was attracted to her. She KNEW! He had told her! It was a fact. But still, every fiber of her being screamed out, No! Don’t do this! He’s going to reject you!
She fought against all the negative self-talk that had built up in her life since her childhood. All the discouraging words from her father. All the times boys had looked past her when walking down the halls in middle school and high school. She fought against John Ericsson. She fought against Charles. She fought against her father. She fought against herself.
Her hands shook. Her stomach twisted in knots. Her heart pounded like a drum, echoing in her ears.
Fuck it. I can do this. He likes me. He wants me. Move, Savannah. Take a chance. Oh, God, I’m really going to do this.
I’m really going to do this!
I’m REALLY going to do this!
I am doing this!
Do it! Do it now!
With a deep breath and a final silent prayer, she took a step forward toward Zac and reached up with her hand.
CHAPTER 10
Zac stood at the sink, washing the dishes. For some reason, he’d always enjoyed washing dishes. It relaxed him. But tonight, it wasn’t working. Tonight, he was so distracted by Savannah that no amount of dishes-washing was going to help matters.
He’d told her of his debauchery. He’d confessed a few of his sins, hoping it would make him feel better. But here he was, feeling worse. Why was that? Usually telling secrets gave him a giddy sense of freedom and trust in another person, and he couldn’t figure out why that wasn’t happening tonight.
That wasn’t true, he realized. Still lying to himself. He felt wrong because he hadn’t actually told her the full truth. He’d held back the part about his vow of chastity. He’d tried to tell her, but the words had caught in his throat. Out of fear, embarrassment. Shame. What would she think of him? Who makes a pledge not to have sex? Would she hate him, and run off? Especially after he’d flirted with her, led her on, made her think he was not just interested, but available.
And if he didn’t tell her, maybe she’d still be interested and maybe they could…
No! Cut it out! Don’t think like that. You made a promise to yourself. You wrote it down on paper and signed it in your own blood! Well, not blood, but you signed it with that expensive red fountain pen.
He told himself to stop talking to himself in his head so much. If somebody could read his thoughts, doubtless they’d believe he was deranged.
He scrubbed the cutting board, making sure to get all the garlic and ginger out of it so they wouldn’t affect the flavor of whatever he cut next time. To take his mind off Savannah and the pledge and how much he wanted what he could not have, he thought about the success he’d achieved so far in life. It was extraordinary, by any measure. To be worth three billion dollars by the age of 34 was almost unheard of, except by inheritance. He was one of the youngest self-made billionaires in the world.
It was an incredibly unlikely story, and that was why the tech media had always been so quick to repeat it
Forgetting his past, his worries, his crimes, whatever they were. Deciding that she was worth it. Pulling her panties down, carrying her into the bedroom…
Her rational mind took over. It said: Savannah, you’ve never been sexually aggressive toward men . Are you really going to start now?
She’d rarely made the first move, preferring not to take that huge risk of rejection. The one time she’d asked a boy out on a date, it was ninth grade. John Ericsson, freshman class president and all-around smart, funny, cute guy. With shaking hands, she’d called him on the phone and said maybe they could be more than friends. His words hurt so much, they’d stuck in her brain forever: “No, I don’t think so.”
But something had changed in her since she’d seen Zac in the coffee shop that day. Each time she saw him, she wanted him more and more, and now she knew that he was attracted to her. She KNEW! He had told her! It was a fact. But still, every fiber of her being screamed out, No! Don’t do this! He’s going to reject you!
She fought against all the negative self-talk that had built up in her life since her childhood. All the discouraging words from her father. All the times boys had looked past her when walking down the halls in middle school and high school. She fought against John Ericsson. She fought against Charles. She fought against her father. She fought against herself.
Her hands shook. Her stomach twisted in knots. Her heart pounded like a drum, echoing in her ears.
Fuck it. I can do this. He likes me. He wants me. Move, Savannah. Take a chance. Oh, God, I’m really going to do this.
I’m really going to do this!
I’m REALLY going to do this!
I am doing this!
Do it! Do it now!
With a deep breath and a final silent prayer, she took a step forward toward Zac and reached up with her hand.
CHAPTER 10
Zac stood at the sink, washing the dishes. For some reason, he’d always enjoyed washing dishes. It relaxed him. But tonight, it wasn’t working. Tonight, he was so distracted by Savannah that no amount of dishes-washing was going to help matters.
He’d told her of his debauchery. He’d confessed a few of his sins, hoping it would make him feel better. But here he was, feeling worse. Why was that? Usually telling secrets gave him a giddy sense of freedom and trust in another person, and he couldn’t figure out why that wasn’t happening tonight.
That wasn’t true, he realized. Still lying to himself. He felt wrong because he hadn’t actually told her the full truth. He’d held back the part about his vow of chastity. He’d tried to tell her, but the words had caught in his throat. Out of fear, embarrassment. Shame. What would she think of him? Who makes a pledge not to have sex? Would she hate him, and run off? Especially after he’d flirted with her, led her on, made her think he was not just interested, but available.
And if he didn’t tell her, maybe she’d still be interested and maybe they could…
No! Cut it out! Don’t think like that. You made a promise to yourself. You wrote it down on paper and signed it in your own blood! Well, not blood, but you signed it with that expensive red fountain pen.
He told himself to stop talking to himself in his head so much. If somebody could read his thoughts, doubtless they’d believe he was deranged.
He scrubbed the cutting board, making sure to get all the garlic and ginger out of it so they wouldn’t affect the flavor of whatever he cut next time. To take his mind off Savannah and the pledge and how much he wanted what he could not have, he thought about the success he’d achieved so far in life. It was extraordinary, by any measure. To be worth three billion dollars by the age of 34 was almost unheard of, except by inheritance. He was one of the youngest self-made billionaires in the world.
It was an incredibly unlikely story, and that was why the tech media had always been so quick to repeat it
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