Savannah’s POV
Two weeks later, things hadn’t gotten any better.
It seemed we were still on a battlefield, with neither of us willing to surrender. We barely talked, cursed each other when no one could hear, only giving angry side glances, and made venomous remarks, causing our parents to look at us in confusion.
At the dining table, if I asked him to pass the salt, he slid it across the table with enough force to tip the shaker over and if he saw me outside the house, he would let out a mocking sound to communicate exactly how much he loathed breathing the same air as me.
I didn’t mean to hurt him with my words, but I figured it was best to let confusion linger, I needed distance between us to keep my head in the game. It was a contract afterall, the cohabitation was only temporary.
