Between Never and Forever by Brit Benson

9

I trymy best not to grimace as I glance around the seedy bar, but I’m pretty sure I fail.

“Why are we here?”

Savannah glances over her bare shoulder at me and laughs.

“Why do you look like you just smelled something nasty?”

I widen my eyes. “Because this place smells like something nasty.”

She laughs again, louder this time, and I shake my head. She’s delighted that I’m uncomfortable, and I can’t help but smile. It feels like before she left. Sav always did like making me squirm, and no matter how much I tried to pretend, she could tell it bothered me less than I let on.

I trail her through the bar, keeping my eyes firmly on her shoulders despite the pull to let them fall lower. It’s going to take a lobotomy for me to forget the sight of her topless with just some little plastic flowers on her nipples. I don’t need to add anymore NSFW content to the Savannah folder.

Because the feel of her in my lap...

I grit my teeth and give my head a little shake.

When the guys tricked me into tagging along to that strip club, I was furious. I’ve grown a bit since my days of Bible camp and purity lectures, but the idea of sitting in the audience watching some women get naked on stage still triggered my fight or flight response.

Involuntarily, verses about lust and modesty started cycling through my mind and it gave me an instant headache. I had just started distracting myself with architectural digest articles on my phone when this blast from my past yanked it from my hold and bowled me right over.

I was shocked at first. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Savannah Shaw, alive and well, and smirking at me. The look in her eyes—the one she always used to get when she was purposely trying to irritate me—sparked instant excitement. I wanted to jump up and grab her. I wanted to hug her and hold her and laugh out loud. I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy.

The last time I saw Savannah, I kissed her because I believed I’d never see her again. I spent the entire next year after she’d left dreaming about her. Worrying about her. I would spend my whole study period in the library, just so I could scour the internet for news stories about runaways. I dedicated every mealtime prayer to Savannah, begging God that the next breaking headline wouldn’t be about her. Wishing her safe. Needing her happy. Telling myself that no news was good news.

To see her standing over me with that smirk removed three years of bricks off my chest, and it felt amazing to finally breathe her in. For all of two seconds.

Until I felt a whole slew of new things that made my head spin.

Her hands on my body, squeezing my biceps, her lips on my ear.

Damn.

I spent a whole year with her in my bed, sleeping most nights with her tucked close to my chest, yet none of it compared to those first few seconds of contact in that club. I felt like my body was on fire. I thought I would die just from that.

But because she’s Savannah, she had to go and take it further.

How ‘bout a dance, big boy?

I’m going to be playing that memory over and over for years to come.

A chorus of greetings snaps me from my thoughts when we reach the back of the bar, and I watch as Sav hugs and high fives a group of people. Three guys and a girl. The guys are wearing ripped skinny jeans and torn band tees. One has a short green mohawk, one has a buzz cut, and one has shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes. The girl has long black hair with pink streaks, and she’s wearing leather pants and a black mesh top with a neon pink bra underneath. The bright pink eyeliner lining her almond-shaped brown eyes matches her bra and hair perfectly, and when I glance at her feet, she’s wearing a pair of bright pink Chucks.

I immediately feel out of place in my khaki shorts and polo shirt, but Sav fits right in.

Savannah steps back so she’s standing next to me once more, then introduces me to her friends, gesturing to each person like she’s Vanna White and they’re a car I just won.

“Levi, this is Torren, Jonah, Sean, and Mabel. Everyone, this is my friend Levi.”

“What’s up, man,” Jonah, the guy with green mohawk says, putting out a fist for me to bump.

His nails are painted a sparkly pink and he’s wearing about a dozen colorful friendship bracelets. I nod and bump his fist with mine. The contrast between my hand and his is almost comical.

I turn to the other guy, Torren, expecting the same sort of hello, but he just looks me over with a stony face. I nod awkwardly. Sean gives me a nod and a smile, and then I turn to Mabel.

“Hey.” She smiles and gives me a small wave. “Nice to meet you, Levi.”

“You too, Mabel.” I turn back to Savannah and find her beaming up at me with a look that tells me she’s got a secret, and she’s excited about it. “What?” Her smile grows. “Sav, what?”

“This is my band.”

My reaction must be exactly what she was hoping for because the triumph she’s exuding almost knocks me over.

“Your band?”

She nods, then gives my shoe a nudge with her black boot.

“We got a gig tonight.” Her tone is steady, unbothered, as if this is just another day at work, but I see the excitement sparkling in her eyes. “If anyone asks, you’re a roadie.”

“Wow.” I blink a few times and pan my attention back to her bandmates. They look the part. “Wow, Sav. That’s really awesome. What’s y’all’s name?”

Torren snorts, and Mabel smacks his arm. He raises a pierced eyebrow at me.

“Y’all? So, you’re a good ol’ country boy?”

I jerk my head back, screw up my face, then dart my eyes to Sav.

“Savannah and I grew up together,” I say slowly.

It’s not like I expected them to know who I am, but the fact that they don’t know where Sav grew up gives me pause.

“Southeastern North Carolina. So, I guess you could say country?”

Torren’s eyes fall to Savannah and the way he looks at her makes me clench my fists. He looks at her like she’s more than his bandmate. He looks at her like she’s just his.

“North Carolina, Savvy?”

Savvy? I roll my eyes at the nickname on impulse but wipe it away quickly. Savannah shrugs at him with a flirty grin that pisses me off even more than the look on his face.

“Never came up,” she says. “You’re the one who assumed I was from Miami. Had you asked, I’d have told you.”

“I’ll be sure to ask more questions, then.”

He smiles when he says it. It’s a kind smile, a little suggestive, but it doesn’t seem predatory. Just interested. And I want to punch that smile right off his face. My jaw hurts from how hard I’m gritting my teeth, and if they don’t break eye contact soon, I’ll break it for them.

“Would you two stop eye-fucking,” Jonah says with a groan. “We have shit to do. Eye-fuck later.”

“Maybe just real fuck and put us out of our misery,” Sean adds.

He rolls his eyes like he’s disgusted, and it tenses my shoulders. I’m staring daggers at him when Mabel nudges my arm. When I glance at her she’s grinning, then she jerks her head toward a door behind her.

“Want to help us set up, roadie?”

I glance once more at the guys. Sean and Jonah have disappeared, but Torren it is watching me closely. Then I return Mabel’s grin.

“Just tell me what to do.”

I follow her to an alley behind the bar and find a van packed full of stuff. I want to turn around and see what Sav is doing with Torren, but I don’t. Instead, I watch as Mabel opens the back of the van, pulls out a bass drum with a grunt, and gives it to me.

“We don’t have a name yet,” she says, stacking a tom drum on top of the bass that I’m holding. Then she grabs some metal poles—drum stands—and nods for me to go back inside. “Torren wants to call us The Eff Em. Like, as in FM radio, but spelled out e-f-f-e-m so it looks like fuck them.”

Our eyes meet and we share a grimace.

“Yeah, we don’t like it either,” she says with a laugh. “Right now, we’re on the fliers as Savannah Alt. and everyone just assumes we’re from Georgia. But really, it’s just ‘cause when we got the gig, the bartender filled out the paperwork with Sav’s name and our music genre as a placeholder, and we never changed it.”

“Savannah Alt. actually isn’t a bad one.”

I follow her lead as she heads to the stage area and sets up the drum stands, then I put my haul down and trail her back outside for more.

“It’s not bad, but Savannah doesn’t like it.” Mabel laughs. “Sav even wanted to use her stripper name because she didn’t want people to think we named the band after her, but we told her that was stupid.”

“Vixen Viper,” I drawl with a smile, my mind drifting back to our interaction at the club.

“That’s the one.” Mabel hands me a guitar case and another tom drum, then hops out of the van with drumsticks in her back pocket and cymbals under her arms. “C’mon. We’ll get these in, and then you can help the guys with the rest.”

“So how long have you known Savannah?” I ask as I help her set up the drum set. And by “help,” I mean I hand her things when she asks for them and try to stay out of the way otherwise.

“A little over a year. We met in Nashville.”

“Nashville?”

My curiosity is piqued. What has Sav done since she left? Where has she been? How did she end up here, in Miami, working as a stripper and playing in an alternative rock band with an idiot named Sean and a fuckboy named Torren? I want to know everything.

“Yeah. We were, uh, staying at the same place.” Mabel flicks her eyes to me quickly then darts them away. “Anyway, we hit it off and when she decided to come to Miami, I came with her.”

I stare at her for a moment, willing her to say more. When she doesn’t, I go back to playing roadie.

Soon, laughter brings me out of my thoughts, and I catch sight of Savannah and Torren coming back in from the alley. They’re both smiling, and he’s giving her that look again. The one that makes me see red. When he says something that makes her smack him playfully in the side, I force myself to look away.

“Anything going on between them?” The question doesn’t faze Mabel at all. It’s almost like she was expecting it.

“He wishes,” she says with a scoff. “But Savvy would never. This band is too important to her. She doesn’t want to fuck it up.”

I want to bristle at Mabel’s confirmation that Torren wants something from Sav. Then I want to heave a sigh of relief at knowing Sav isn’t interested. But what grabs my attention is the last point Mabel made. The band is too important.

I never knew Savannah to be musically inclined.

I was the one in band despite being terrible at it. Sav never showed any interest in playing an instrument or singing. I don’t even recall her mentioning popular musicians or songs. The fact that she’s in a band is extremely unexpected.

The moment the thought forms, I have to smile.

I suppose that’s Savannah. Everything she does is unexpected. She’s as unpredictable as a hurricane. Forget Vixen Viper as her stage name. She should have chosen Tempest.

“Done?” Jonah asks, stepping up onto the stage and handing me a drink.

I take it and nod my thanks. I don’t want to be rude.

“We’re done,” Mabel says, coming to stand next to me as Savannah, Torren, and Sean join us. “No thanks to you losers.”

Sean laughs. “It’s not my fault your instrument has a gazillion parts. Should have learned to play something that comes in fewer pieces. Easy in, easy out.”

“Just how you like it,” Torren drawls, and Sean sends him a wink.

“Exactly.”

Savannah sighs loudly and shoves past the guys, then snatches my hand. Without saying anything, she tugs me off the stage and over to a table against the wall. She pulls the high-top stool out, then puts her hands on my torso and maneuvers me backward until I’m sitting. The whole thing is awkward and silly, but that doesn’t stop me from fixating on the way the heat of her hands seeps through my thin shirt and warms my skin.

“Is this where you want me?” I ask, setting my drink on the tabletop.

She nods, then raises a brow at the glass.

“What are you drinking? How’d you get it?”

“Jonah.”

I study the mystery beverage. Something caramel brown on ice with a twist of orange rind floating at the top. I’m not old enough to get anything from the bar on my own, and I’ve only tried alcohol a few times, so when he handed it to me, I took it.

“Is it safe?”

Sav laughs. “If you’re asking if it’s good booze, the answer is probably no. If you’re asking if you’ll die from drinking it, the answer is also probably no.”

I start to laugh with her, but the sound dies on my tongue the moment she moves into my space. On instinct, I widen my legs so she can step between them, and she leans her hip against my inner thigh. I inhale deeply and fix my eyes on hers, refusing to let them wander to her purple bra and bare stomach. For the briefest moment, I catch a spark of nerves in her gray eyes.

“Is this your first show?”

She nods and sinks her teeth into her lower lip.

“Our first big one, yeah.” She reaches out and fidgets with the hem on my t-shirt. My ab muscles tighten on impulse, and I do my best to keep my cool. “We’ve played some house parties. A few dive bars. Once we played at some random illegal rave thing in a parking lot. But this is the first gig where we’re actually getting paid more than a hundred bucks. They’ve advertised us. We’re on the marquee. We’re even on their social media page.”

“This is awesome, Sav. You’re going to be great.”

She clicks her tongue sarcastically and cocks her head.

“How do you know? You’ve never heard us. For all you know we could suck hardcore.”

I smirk at her attitude, then reach out and give a strand of her dark brown hair a light tug.

“Because you’re a star, Savannah Shaw. A force of nature. A tempest. You’ll knock them all on their asses, and they’ll be begging you to do it again before the night is over. It’s just the way you are. You can’t help it.”

Her cheeks tint pink and her full lips curve upward, but she doesn’t say anything. She just locks me in with those swirling silver depths. When she opens her mouth to speak, feedback shoots through the speakers on the stage, making us both jump, then someone is saying “sound check” into the microphone. We look toward the stage and find Torren standing at the mic glaring at us.

I’m not surprised he’s the frontman. Lead singer. Probably lead guitarist, too. Jealousy surges when Sav gives my thigh a little squeeze, then walks away from me without another word.

Savannah steps onto the stage, and I watch in awe as the lights illuminate her every feature. The girl was made to be under a spotlight. I think part of me always knew it. She was always meant for something bigger than a dingy bedroom and a joyless life in our nowhere hometown.

For some reason, I expect Savannah to head to the small keyboard, away from centerstage, the mic, and the attention. Instead, I’m taken aback when Torren makes a show of stepping away from the lead microphone and presenting it to her. My slack jaw falls wide open when she not only takes her place at the mic, but then turns and takes a white electric guitar from Jonah.

She slings the strap over her head, strums the strings once, then finally looks in my direction. I know I’m gaping. Her grin makes my heart pound and my dick harden. Then, she licks her lips and leans in close to the mic.

“How’s everyone doin’ tonight?”

I’m shocked by the way Savannah’s voice transforms through the microphone. She evolves underneath the stage lights. It’s still Savannah, but it’s like I’m experiencing her on an entirely different plane. Sure, she looks hot as hell and twice as sinful, but it’s more than that. She’s magnetic. Her voice is sexy, lilting and raspy with a sharp edge. You can hear the smirk. You can hear the mischief. It’s damn near hypnotizing.

I glance around the packed bar and find I’m not the only one who’s felt it.

People who were playing pool before have put up their sticks. Bodies at the bar have turned all the way around so they can face the stage. Even the bartenders are fixated on Sav because no one is bothering them for drinks. The crowd cheers. Someone whistles. Everyone claps. She’s spoken four words and has them wrapped around her finger.

“Now that’s what we like to hear, isn’t it guys?” Savannah drags her eyes off me to glance over her shoulder at Mabel, and Mabel pounds out a quick beat in agreement.

More cheers. More whistles.

“Thank you. We’re Savannah Alt. We’ve got Jonah playing lead guitar over there, Sean on the keyboard, Torren rocking on the bass, Mabel beating on the drums, and my name’s Savannah. Let’s fucking rock.”

Following Sav’s lead, they launch straight into a rendition of a 90’s alternative rock hit, and all I can do is stare. I had no idea she could sing. It’s just as sexy as her speaking voice, but ten times more powerful. She’s not just reciting lyrics. She’s becoming them.

Her delicate fingers work the strings on the guitar with practiced ease. A few times, when she’s not singing, she plays a lead guitar riff that absolutely blows me away, and I don’t know where I want to settle my attention. Her fingers playing the instrument, or her mouth crooning the song.

She’s amazing. The whole band is great, but Sav is the star. Sav is the magic.

They go through a handful of covers, each one just as good as the last, when the music fades and Sav turns to speak to Mabel. They exchange a few words, then Sav looks at the guys and nods before turning back to the mic.

“Alright, South Beach, how ‘bout a new twist on an old favorite?”

People go nuts, and for the first time since she started singing, I glance back at the crowded bar. I’m floored.

The place is packed. The number of people in here has doubled since the set started, and everyone, I mean everyone, has their eyes on Savannah. Not the band. Sav. When I swing my attention back to the stage, though, the woman everyone’s eyes are on is looking right at me.

“I have a good friend visiting tonight,” she says slowly into the mic, her impish grin stretching over her face. “Leviticus, told ya the universe wasn’t done with us. This one’s for you.”

She starts to play something on the guitar—some riff that sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place—before Mabel joins in on the drums. When Torren, Sean, and Jonah start to play, the melody pulls at a memory just out of my reach. I know this song, but I don’t know what it is yet.

Sav glances at me and laughs, then sends me a wink I feel in my gut. When she starts to sing, I can’t stop my smile from taking over my face. It’s “Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show, but they’ve tweaked it. Made it less Americana folk and a little more rock and roll, and it’s good. Really good.

If nothing else solidified it tonight, this does. The way she can take this song and make it something else entirely. The way she can make anything better just by touching it.

Savannah Shaw is going to be the reason this band goes anywhere, and before she finishes the song, I know. I can see it, crisp and clear as if it were playing out in front of me.

This is going to be something. Something big.

Savannah Shaw has always been made for something better than our hometown, but I didn’t realize just what that meant until this moment.

It creates a tight, sinking feeling in my chest, and suddenly I’m back outside my childhood bedroom, listening to her footsteps fade into the darkness.

“What did you think?” Sav asks after her show, her voice mixing with the sound of the ocean breaking on the shore. From her smile, she already knows what I’m going to say.

“You were brilliant,” I say honestly. “Absolutely amazing. When did you learn to play guitar?”

Jonah hands Sav another shot, and she swallows it back quickly, swaying a little on her feet. I’ve been holding the same drink since we got here. At the bar, I nursed the strange whiskey and orange beverage Jonah gave me for the whole set. When we left the bar and came to the beach, he miraculously produced another one for me in a red plastic cup.

I don’t even know where he’s getting the liquor from.

“Busking in Nashville,” Savannah says after wincing through her shot. “That’s how I met Mabes. Me and her were part of this group. Like a little community of misfit delinquents.”

She giggles and turns her head to Mabel, who is currently making out with her girlfriend in the sand. I look away. Mabel introduced me to her, but I don’t remember her name. Some kind of gemstone. Diamond or Crystal or something. The single whiskey drink I’ve had has fogged me up a bit.

“We lived with this guy named Oscar—me and Mabel and probably twelve other kids. The number was always changin’, ya know? Hard to keep runaways in one place. Anyway, Oscar was like fifty, and he had this old house that we all stayed in, and he taught me how to play the guitar so I could busk. Everyone did something different, and that’s how we bought food and paid rent and stuff.”

I blink at her.

“So, he basically exploited kids who had nowhere else to go?”

She grins, then calls out to Mabel without taking her eyes off me.

“Hey Mabes. You think Oscar exploited us?”

Mabel doesn’t miss a beat. She pulls away from her girlfriend long enough to shout, “Definitely.”

Then she and her girlfriend laugh before going back to making out.

Sav chuckles, then shrugs.

“I don’t mind. I learned to play the guitar, which I love, and I’m one hell of a pickpocket now, too.”

“You’re a pickpocket?” I ask incredulously, and she rolls her eyes.

“Don’t be such a weenie.”

I work to hide my smile as I shake my head.

I’m working up the nerve to ask another question when Torren and Sean sidle up next to Savannah, and Torren throws his arm around her. My shoulders stiffen, and I grit my teeth as I watch the exchange. He pulls her into his body, and she leans against him. I tell myself it’s just because she’s had a few shots.

“Want to have some fun, Savvy?” Torren holds out his palm, flashing a few white pills, and Savannah grins up at him, then flashes a trouble-making glance my way.

“How straight edge are you, exactly, Leviticus?”

She cocks her head to the side as she watches me, taunting me just like she would when we were kids, and I shake my head slowly, biting back a smile.

“Still pretty straight edge.”

She hums, her Cheshire smile taming to something sweeter, and her eyes soften. She bites her lip, then laughs lightly.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.” She kicks a little sand onto my barefoot. “I like you how you are.”

The way my stomach jumps is so unexpected, and all I can do is stare at her with a stupid half-smile on my face.

I’m about to open my mouth to speak, to tell her I like her how she is too, when she smiles back up at Torren, and opens her mouth for him. I watch, jealousy clawing at my chest and rage burning the butterflies that were lapping my insides seconds earlier, as Torren places one of the white pills on her tongue. She closes her mouth, swallows, then tips her head back to the night sky. Then Torren hands something to Sean and Sean puts it in his mouth.

The whole scene shocks me, so I just stand there and watch. I want to ask Sav what the hell she’s doing. Drugs? After everything she went through with her mom and her mom’s boyfriend, how could she be okay with doing drugs? I want to scold her. I want to pick her up and take her home. Make her spit out whatever it is she just took.

But then Torren runs his hand down Sav’s back, and I grow angry for a different reason. I clench my fists when he leans down and says something in her ear. Her eyes pop open and a smile stretches her face.

“Okay,” she says to him, then swings her attention to me.

I stand a little taller when she steps out of Torren’s hold. Briefly, I let myself glance at him, and my pride bolsters when I see him scowling.

Good.

Savannah takes both my hands in hers. “Let’s dance.”

Despite my disapproval, my lips curve upward. “There’s no music.”

She laces her fingers with mine, then starts to step backward, steering me away from Torren and closer to the surf. My fingers tingle wrapped up with hers. I feel it running up my arms and into my chest.

“So?” She releases one of my hands, then twirls herself in a circle before spinning into my chest in a way that wraps my arm around her. “We can pretend.”

Once again, we’re so close that I can feel her breath on my skin. If I bent down just a few inches, I could kiss her. I’ll do anything she wants to in this moment. I’ll dance for hours with no music, just the memories of her on stage replaying in my head. Anything she asks. I’m that tangled up in her.

We both jump when actual music starts to play, and we look up the beach to see a Jeep rolling slowly toward us, stereo turned all the way up. Jonah jogs to the vehicle and slaps hands with whoever’s driving, and then I look back at Savannah.

“Now we don’t have to pretend,” she says.

Her body starts to sway back and forth to the music, and something about her movements tells me whatever Torren gave her is already starting to take hold. She lifts her arms above her head and rotates her hips. It’s languid and hypnotic, and when she reaches out and places my hands on her waist, I almost feel high, too.

“Now we can do it for real.”