Savon Dubois💒

The house felt too still after 9PM.

The younger siblings were knocked out upstairs, cartoons still murmuring low in the background. The dishwasher hummed. A candle flickered on the kitchen counter. And the only person still awake besides you... was him.

Savon. But I called him Sav

He is 22, fresh out of college and staying home for the summer to stack money, save for his own place, and help his mom with the house. He’s not around much during the day—between his side hustle, late-night rides with his boys, and trying to avoid emotional burnout—but when he is, he handles chores, yard work, and errands for his mom.

Since he’s too in-and-out (and historically unreliable with the kids), his mom still hires the babysitter to watch his 11-year-old brother and little sister. The babysitter’s been working for them for a couple years, but now she’s 18—and something about this summer is different.

There was usually never any tension between them but this summer was different. He thought about those past two summers where she would blush....and he would brush it off as a crush that would come to fruition when she was tired of keeping secrets. The moment never came.

And the fact this was her last summer before she went off to college meaning he didn’t know if she would return ...highlighted the fact he had to get her to admit so he could act of his emotions.

You’d avoided him most of the weekend. Busying yourself with games, snacks, and bedtime routines like you weren’t clocking the way his voice dropped lower every time he talked to his mom. Or how he kept walking around the house shirtless like it was a dare. Like he wanted you to notice.

But you were trying to be smart. You’d babysat here since you were sixteen. You knew better than to fall for the oldest son.

And yet...

When you stepped out onto the back porch after dinner, there he was — hoodie on, backwood between his fingers, legs stretched long across the concrete like he owned the night.

He didn’t look at you. Just exhaled, smoke curling up into the stars.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” you said, keeping it casual.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t even blink.

Then, voice low and sharp:

“Don’t leave me with her,” he muttered, to nobody in particular.

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

He finally looked at you. And something about the heat in his stare made your mouth go dry.

“My moms. She knows what she doing. Leaving me here with you all weekend like this.” He paused. “She thinks I’m grown. Thinks I got discipline now.”

You shifted, arms crossing over your chest. The silence stretched long between you.

“You stay in my space,” he said, voice rough now. “Act like you don’t feel this sh*t. I swear you cruel.”

Your heart thumped too loud. You turned to leave, needing to break the moment before it broke you.

“Sav, don’t—”

He was already behind you. Hand slipping around your waist before you could hit the sliding door.

“Nah. You know what you do, walkin’ around here like that. Tank tops and shorts like you don’t see me lookin’.”

You tried to keep your breath steady, but it was too late. You were already trembling.

He leaned closer, breath against your neck.

“You think I ain’t noticed how you stopped callin’ me ‘Sav’? Or how you don’t even say my name when we alone?”

“You’re trippin—”

“No,” he cut you off, voice rising just slightly. “You been playing with me. And you know it.”

You turned, face inches from his. The porch light flickered through the glass behind you, casting shadows across his jawline, his lips, the hunger in his eyes.

And it hit you then: He wasn’t just attracted. He wasn’t just looking.

He was starving.

For you.

For this.

And he had been. Probably for longer than you realized.

But the moment cracked — not from a kiss, not from touch — from silence.

You pushed him off gently, eyes darting away.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

He stepped back, jaw clenching, fists balled at his sides.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “You can. You just won’t.”

And then he turned, disappearing up the hallway like he was afraid of what he’d do if he stayed. The morning was too calm. Like the house knew something had shifted.

You moved quieter than usual. Light on your feet, but not because you were sneaking. No—because you could feel him. Somewhere in the house. Somewhere close.

He hadn’t said a word since last night. No good morning. No smart mouth. No lingering glances when you walked past the kitchen in your big T-shirt and fuzzy socks. He was ghosting you—but not in silence.

It was tension.

Palpable, charged, intentional tension.

You found him later that afternoon in the garage. Shirtless again, as usual, sweat shining off his arms while he shadowboxed in front of an old mirror. Some gritty beat pulsed low from a Bluetooth speaker, matching the thud of his fists against air.

You leaned in the doorway, arms crossed.

“You training for something, or just mad at the wind?”

He didn’t stop moving. Didn’t even look your way.

“Mad at myself,” he muttered. “For talkin’ to you like you worth it.”

That hit like a slap.

Your arms dropped. “Excuse me?”

He paused. Wiped his face with a towel. Turned slowly toward you.

“You heard me.”

You blinked, jaw tensing. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It mean I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Should’ve let you keep floatin’ around the house like you innocent. Like you don’t know you got me losin’ sleep.”

He stepped closer.

“But nah—you wanna act brand new. You wanna act like you don’t hear your name get stuck in my throat every time you bend over near me.”

“SAVON!—”

“Nah. You wanted this convo, right? You standing here like you ain’t scared. Like you want me to say it with my chest.”

You stood your ground, but your heart was sprinting.

“Say what, Sav?” you whispered.

He stepped so close the heat from his skin brushed yours.

“Say WHAT SAV ... say I want you.”

“Say I been wantin’ you.”

He stepped closer

“You right that’s not enough...say that you know I wake up mad as hell every morning because I dream about you......... and then gotta eat cereal across the table from you like I don’t wanna drag you on top of it.”

Your breath caught. Standing in shock...

“Thats what you wanna hear from me? That’s how you feel...”