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savannah lingered near the kitchen counter, pretending to read the back of a cereal box, but her ears were tuned into the conversation between ryan and seth. she wasn't intentionally eavesdropping—at least, that's what she told herself—but the tension in ryan's voice made her pause.
"so," seth began, leaning forward with that nosy, persistent look he always had when he was trying to dig into ryan's personal life, "what kind of kiss was it?"
kiss? her fingers tightened around the cardboard as she forced herself to keep listening, the casual tone of seth's question feeling like a punch to her gut.
ryan let out a sigh, sounding both annoyed and resigned. "i don't know, seth. a kiss. my lips, theresa's lips. a kiss." it was more than just a kiss. ryan knew that. but it wasn't really anyone's business but his own's. he didn't want it to be a topic of conversation, or for savannah to have to hear about it, so he downplayed it.
but his words sank into her like stones. theresa. she didn't even know they were... i mean, not really. she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to push down the sting of jealousy that bubbled up, mixing with the bitter taste of regret.
seth's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, his tone light and teasing. "lips? now that's interesting. was there, uh... tongue?"
ryan's voice, sounding increasingly irritated, pulled her back. "i'm not answering that."
"why not?" seth pressed.
ryan glanced away, his gaze flicking to where savannah stood for just a moment. she caught his eye, and something unspoken passed between them—an unspoken apology, maybe, or an acknowledgment of everything that had gone wrong.
savannah felt exposed, like he could see right through her, see how much this was affecting her despite everything she'd said.
"do you really want to know?" ryan asked seth quietly.
seth paused, seemingly caught off guard by the seriousness in ryan's voice. "no," he admitted, though he quickly recovered, launching into another string of questions. "but just tell me this—what kind of kiss are we talking about? was it a christina-madonna peck, a britney-madonna smooch, or a full-on al-and-tipper-gore lip lock?"
savannah's grip on the box tightened until her knuckles turned white. she hated how curious she was, how much she wanted to know. it felt like she was torturing herself, standing here listening, but she couldn't walk away. she needed to know, needed to hear ryan say it was nothing, that it didn't mean anything.
