but how can i miss you so much
when you're right h e r e . . .

⚡️⚡️⚡️

Nearly three weeks in, and it felt like I had been in school for months. Summer break was just a distant memory now, something that I had to think hard about to recall. Too many hazy nights bound by smoke and muffled laughter. Languid days in my dad's office, sheltered from sunshine until I could break free and do whatever I wanted.

Not that the rest of my days wouldn't consist of that, but it was always so different when it wasn't summertime in Tatum Hills. Hours seemed to last longer, people seemed to be more alive. The season had something on me, and I couldn't quite put my finger on why.

After a mundane lecture from my Climate Change professor, I realized how long it had been since I had one of those nights. The kind where I just let everything go and sat in absolute bliss with the most important people to me. I was barely out of the room when I whipped my phone out and texted Tommy, the sound of my teacher shouting whatever homework we had due for next week somewhere far behind me.

My message, very direct and to the point, said that Cheyenne and I were coming up to visit for the weekend. Since it was Thursday and I was done classes until Monday, I figured we could leave sometime tomorrow. He welcomed the idea, telling me what time he'd be free and even if he wasn't, that Kurt or the other roommate would most likely be around to let us in. With that plan in mind, I headed to my car in the lot and left.

It took me a little longer to get home, due to random midday traffic that tends to pop out of nowhere as the weekend nears. Whereas it would usually take me about thirty minutes, it took me closer to an hour. I didn't mind as much though, because my dad took my car to the shop a couple of weeks ago and finally, I had air conditioning again. Fall might be in full swing, but that doesn't mean we don't get a sweltering day here and there.

Cheyenne's car was out front of my house when I got there, then I saw my dad's car in the driveway too. Glancing at the clock, it was about that time when Haleigh should be home from school. Most days, I have to pick her up, but occasionally my dad will call it a day at work a little early and go get her. I try to tell him that it's not a big deal for me to get her, but I think he feels a little bad about how much responsibility he puts on me.

Like I said, I don't mind. The trait comes with a dysfunctional family – I'm meant to take on a bigger role in the house than I should have at twenty years old.

I shut my car off once I parked behind my dad's and got out, sauntering up to the front door. The sound of mixed voices was the first thing I noticed when I walked inside, and I went to the kitchen to see who they belonged to. Though I could have guessed that Cheyenne, Haleigh, and my dad would all be sitting there.

"Hey," Haleigh smiled at me from where she was sitting beside Cheyenne at the table, who offered me a cheeky grin too.

"Hi sweets," my dad chimed in, leaning a hip against the counter top. I rolled my eyes with a smile at the nickname, a reference to both my childhood and my mom. She used to call me that all the time because I wouldn't eat dinner. I always wanted to skip right to dessert. He says it sparingly, but it never fails to lighten my mood.

"What's up, guys?" I breathed as I took a seat across from my sister.

"Not much. How was class?" Cheyenne asked me.

"Boring as hell," I muttered. My dad let out a disapproving sigh, shaking his head. "Well Dad, how would you like to sit there for two hours, listening to your professor go on and on about her ex-husband when she's supposed to be teaching us about why the climate is changing?"

He lightly chuckled then and loosened his tie. "Now at least I know where all my money is going," he quipped, leaving the room shortly after. When I was sure he was out of earshot, I turned to Cheyenne with a sly grin.

"What?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"I wanna get another tattoo."

My best friend, who puts up with my shenanigans because she loves me so much, just stared blankly back at me. I kept beaming at her. "What do you have already, like five?" She questioned, seeming fed up with me, but not daring to say anything about it.

"Four. But I want more," I corrected her.

"That giant thing on your arm isn't enough?"

I gasped in offence, caressing the portrait on my left arm with my hand as if she actually hit me. "Don't talk about her like that," I murmured. Her and Haleigh both just rolled their eyes.

One of the reasons why Cheyenne is such a great friend is because she continues to deal with me after all these years. If my anxiety and PTSD issues aren't what scares someone off, then my random, impulsive side probably will. Yeah, I'm shy for the most part – I don't open up to people well, I don't get attached easily, and I mind my own business. But when it comes to getting high, getting a tattoo, or anything else relatively reckless and stupid, sign me up. It's the one part of me that anxiety cannot affect, except it only comes around every now and then.

I take pride in my tattoos, knowing that each of them mean something to me. They each may or may not have a story behind them and I shouldn't have to explain that to anyone. It's my body, and I do what I want with it.

My dad doesn't care too much, although he just wishes I would have stuck with one, if anything. But he lets me do what I want, if it'll make me happy and not put me in prison.

Cheyenne released a drawn-out sigh, slouching in her seat as she inquired, "What do you want to get?"

"I want 'forever' on the side of this finger, and 'young' on this one," I said, as I pointed to my index finger first, then my middle finger, both on my right hand.

"And why do you want that?" She pressed even further.

"For my mom." I saw her tense up when I said it. Haleigh stopped writing whatever she was scribbling down on her homework and nearly dropped her pen. Regardless of their reactions, I kept going with my explanation. "It's not like she's coming back anytime soon to grow old. She's going to be the same age she left us at, forever. Too young." Neither of them said anything; they just offered me a look mixed with shock and respect. "So yeah... that's why. It's small, but significant, I think."

I finally got a response out of Cheyenne when she groaned, her head dropping against the back of the chair. "Savannah, I hate when you do this shit to me," she humorously cried out.

"Sorry," I chuckled. "But I already called Manny at the shop and he said he can squeeze me in tomorrow morning so do you wanna come with me?" I hurried through the question, watching the scowl evolve in her dark eyes.

"Fine," she spat, and I clapped my hands together excitedly. "You know I can't stand needles, but sure, I'll go to a damn tattoo parlor with you. Only because you guilt tripped me into this one."

"You're the best," I sang every word, swinging myself around the table to kiss her cheek, then heading to the fridge to grab a drink while I was up.

"Whatever," she mumbled, disgruntled demeanor quickly changing with the next sentence, "Oh also, Tommy texted me and said we're going up to visit them tomorrow, apparently?"

Scrunching up my forehead at the first few words, I pulled back from the refrigerator to look at her. "He texted you?"

"Yeah," she halfheartedly shrugged. Clearly she didn't see this situation in the same way that I did. "We text, sometimes. Not that much."

Damnit. I don't think there will ever be a day where she slips up and says something about Tommy other than platonic bullshit.

"Oh... well, yeah. I wanna go if you're up for it. It's been awhile since we all hung out," I said in a small voice. I grabbed a can of root beer, then shut the door and went back to sit at the table. Haleigh was still busy with her homework, and Cheyenne was typing away on her phone.

"How could I say no to that?" Cheyenne glanced up at me with a smirk. "I'll get someone to cover for me this weekend, it's no big deal. I'm always saving everyone else's ass at work, it's about fucking time someone repay the favor." I kept staring at her expectantly, even though her eyes were on the screen of her phone. She realized this when I didn't say anything for a minute, and when I darted my eyes over to my sister sitting next to her, Cheyenne grimaced. "Cursing. Right, sorry. It just comes out."

"I appreciate the effort," Haleigh giggled to herself.

Cheyenne looked at her phone one last time before she pushed herself up with a sigh. "Alright, speaking of work, I gotta go," she told us, ruffling Haleigh's hair around a bit. "I'm closing tonight so I don't know if I'll be over later. If not, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes you will," I smiled widely.

She bid us goodbye as she blew a kiss, then disappeared out the front door in a flash. I heard the rumbling of her car until it gradually faded away, leaving Haleigh and I to sit in the quiet of our home.

As I gulped down my soda, Haleigh cleared her throat and suddenly picked her head up.

"So when are Cheyenne and Tommy going to date?" She asked, an impish look glowing in her eyes. I almost choked on my drink, struggling to swallow the bubbly liquid. "I catch onto things pretty easily. And it kinda seems like they like each other."

I narrowed my eyes, not bothering to hide the smile that was tugging at one side of my mouth. "Finish your homework."

⚡️⚡️⚡️

The needle came away from my skin for the last time, leaving a dull, throbbing pain in both of my fingers. A type of pain I was so used to that it hardly bothered me anymore. If I could handle getting a piece that covers my entire upper left arm, then a couple of tiny words on my fingers was nothing.

To be honest, I'd take getting a tattoo on every part of my body over heartbreak and death any day.

"Alright girl, you're all done," Manny grinned at me. He wheeled his chair over to a drawer against the wall, gathering all he needed to clean and bandage up my new ink.

"Thank you so much," I said for the tenth time today. But no matter what, I could never express enough gratitude for all he's done for me. Six tattoos, that is. And a lot of listening.

"Thank God that's over," Cheyenne murmured, a trace of queasiness in her complaint that made Manny and I both laugh.

While Manny went over all that I needed to do to take care of my tattoos, I was too busy admiring his work. I knew the whole routine by now anyway – keep them wrapped up for a couple hours, take the bandage off and clean up the skin, put the ointment on each tattoo for at least a week, and so on. It's part of Manny's protocol to tell me, so I half-listened just to be nice.

But I couldn't help it. The two words in script across the side of my fingers were mesmerizing to me, as was any new addition to the artwork on my skin. They were just another reminder that I'd always have my mom with me somehow.

"So Cheyenne, when are you gonna give in and finally get something?" Manny teasingly asked my squeamish best friend.

"I think I'll die before that happens," she scoffed.

He chuckled, coming back over to me and quickly bandaging up my two fingers one at a time. I threw Cheyenne a grin over my shoulder, where she was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. In slight curiosity, she half-smiled as she pushed off and tiptoed to us.

I felt her peering over my shoulder, watching Manny intently and I smirked to myself. "I know deep down you kinda want one," I whispered tauntingly. She muttered something under her breath instead of answering me.

Once I was all wrapped up and ready to go, I hopped out of the chair and followed Manny to the front desk with Cheyenne trailing behind me. He gave me my total, so I reached into my bag and handed him the wad of cash I specifically saved for this.

Counting it up, his eyebrows pulled together and he looked up at me. "This is too much. Way too much."

"No it's not. It's enough, plus tip," I shrugged. He sent me a flat look, fumbling around with the money as he tried to hand it back. I took a step away and shook my head, which caused him to groan. "I'm not taking any of it so you might as well just keep it."

"You're crazy. Next time you want one, there's no charge," he told me, and he didn't seem like he would take "no" for an answer. Knowing Manny after all these years, he wouldn't.

"I think you're the crazy one," I rephrased his sentence, playfully rolling my eyes. He was focusing on putting the money in the right slots in the register, but he still flipped me off without even glancing up. With a maniacal giggle and a wave, I grabbed onto Cheyenne's arm and we walked to the door. "Thanks again!" I called out before we left.

"Anytime!" He yelled back.

At that, I swung open the door for the both of us, myself happily skipping to where I parked my car along the street and dragging Cheyenne along.

"You're awful happy," Cheyenne commented.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I raised my eyebrows, turning the key in my ignition and starting up my car. "I just got a new tattoo, the weather is beautiful outside, we're spending the weekend with our friends. Aren't you happy?"

"Yeah," she insisted with a smile. "It's just... always nice to see you in a good mood, I guess is what I'm getting at."

I paused to look at her, my lips rolling into my mouth as they started to curve upwards. She stared back, a certain gleam in her eyes. One that appears every now and then, usually when she wants to remind me that my highs can be really high, but my lows are extremely low. It also forces me to remember how much of an incredible person she is for sticking by me all this time, when I know I'm not the easiest person to handle.

"Well, we still have a couple hours 'till Tommy's free. Wanna get lunch?" I changed the subject, sighing a little.

"Sure," she chirped in agreement, and so I was off to find a restaurant.

We took our time with eating, getting lost in our own world of pointless conversations and girlish laughter. Avoiding heavy topics or anything that might trigger an outburst in me, I wanted to keep my good mood going for the entire weekend. Come Monday, I don't care what happens. For now, I wanted to drag this feeling out for as long as I could.

The hour-long drive to ECU went by a lot faster than I thought, probably because Cheyenne and I never stopped talking. We got to Tommy's apartment building on campus, gaping up at the seemingly new structure. It was already better than the dorm he was in for the past two years and we didn't even go inside yet. On that note, I parked where he told me to, then we gathered our things and made the journey up to the fifth floor.

I finally found the door that had "511" written boldly on the small whiteboard hanging underneath the peephole. Scribbled under that was "TKO: knock and we knock you out".

"I'm guessing Tommy came up with that one," I chuckled, raising my fist and banging it against the wood. A second later, it flew open.

"Yo!" Tommy yelped enthusiastically, a grin on his face that stretched from ear to ear.

"Did you read the sign?" Kurt deadpanned from somewhere inside the room.

Tommy rolled his eyes at our friend's remark and stepped aside to let us in, grabbing a bag from each of us. "How was traffic? Did you find the place okay?" He asked, already eager to know every detail about our day.

"There really wasn't any traffic. And no, this big ass, brand new apartment complex didn't stand out at all," I retorted, but I still smiled at him as I grabbed him in a hug.

"Whoa, wait." He pulled away a second later, snatching my right hand and studying it. "Where did these come from?"

"Today," I grinned. I took off the bandage to show him my newest tattoos, and he smirked, his eyes going from my fingers to meet my gaze.

"Damn, you don't know when to stop," he joked.

"I'll stop when I run out of good spots." I just shrugged, quickly wrapping up my fingers again.

"Point made. Well, want me to give you a tour of the place?" He held his lanky arms out with that signature grin of his reappearing.

We couldn't really say no to him because regardless of our answers, he was going to show us around anyway. The days leading up to him moving in consisted of him raving about his new place to me over and over again. It would have annoyed any regular person, but Tommy has a way of spreading his elation to those around him.

The kitchen was to the right when we walked in the door, looking it wasn't used much, most likely due to them eating out all the time. Still, there was a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, wrappers and empty boxes scattered along the counter space. Separated by an island, in front of the kitchen area was the living room, complete with a flat-screen TV and any gaming system a boy could dream of. That's where Kurt was comfortably seated, until we walked in and forced him to get up and greet us. Down the hallway to the left of the living room was Tommy's room, Kurt's room, and the a bathroom. The opposite hallway held the other roommate's bedroom, which had his own bathroom attached to it.

After the tour, the third boy I was unfamiliar of was sitting on the couch with Kurt in the living room. A swarthy complexion, a dark buzzed haircut, and saturnine eyes that seemed to be as black as the t-shirt he was wearing.

"Lando, these are my friends, Savannah and Cheyenne," Tommy gestured to us.

He took his eyes off of the TV screen and looked over at us, standing up to a towering height when he realized he needed to introduce himself. "Orlando." He stuck out a hand to me first, a charming smile spreading across his face that went well with his southern drawl. After he shook Cheyenne's hand, he folded his arms over his chest that looked rock-hard. "Tommy talks about you guys a lot. Almost thought you didn't exist."

"Tommy talks about everything a lot," I emphasized, which made my blabbering friend roll his eyes.

"Tommy, Kurt, Orlando... TKO... technical knockout... I get it," Cheyenne mused. Now it was my turn to roll my eyes because of how long it took her to get that reference on the door.

"Yeah, it was cheaper to live here with three people, and Orlando is alright, so I suggested he move in with us since we're all friendly here," Tommy said with a halfhearted shrug.

"Such a dick," Orlando muttered, roughly shoving Tommy's bony shoulder and nearly knocking him off his feet. He spun on his heel and strolled back to the couch, sinking down next to Kurt again.

It didn't take long for Tommy to get antsy, being the hyperactive moron that he is, and urge that we do something. Hanging around the apartment only kept him happy for so long, until he wanted to take us out to dinner and treat us. He wasn't going to rest, so we had to let him do it.

Eventually, our late night started with Tommy whipping out the bag of weed he scored earlier in the week. That was the one thing on my mind for this weekend, and when I didn't refuse, neither did anyone else. Not wanting to risk getting caught, Tommy drove the five of us in his car off campus so we could smoke in peace, Cheyenne being the only one to deny the joint anytime it came around to her. Her dad and Sage are highly fond of herbs, which gives Cheyenne all the more reason to