But it’s not a dream. Neither is his hungry stare, fixated on my lips, one I see only for a moment before his head dips and then …
Our mouths meet, a cautious touch. Sensation blooms in me from the inside out, and it seems ridiculous that I’ve waited so long to do this. Shivers wrack my body, heat plunges to my core, and I feel like I’m shaking as Sawyer’s hands move from my cheeks to my neck to my waist.
I press against him, forgetting anything that isn’t his touch, his smell, his lips. My eyes are closed and yet I feel like my senses are more heightened than ever. My nipples harden against the hard plane of his chest, even with all of the layers of clothing between us.
Sawyer groans, or maybe grunts, as he deepens the kiss, moving it from a testing of the waters to a true, passionate lip lock. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve let my tongue roll into his mouth, doing an erotic dance with his that makes my knees tremble.
I’ve not kissed a lot of boys, admittedly. Maybe one or two up until this point. I’ve never had a boy’s hands anywhere but halfway up my shirt. And yet, right now, I would let Sawyer pick me up and take me, take my body, wherever he wants it to go.
He pulls back, panting. Somewhere, far in the depths of my brain, I realize that we’re standing in his kitchen, all of our parents on the other side of the door.
“Was that like kissing your brother? Do I need to go brush my teeth?” His voice could cut glass, it’s so harsh, and the expression he wears is lethal, but that boyish dimple still pops out.
I want to sob, that was so perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever felt something so right, so singularly flawless, in my life. The kiss seems to complete me; it clears my vision and makes the world spin correctly after it hasn’t for so long. Sawyer is using my own words against me, the ones I told everyone at that basement party years ago, but I’m too flushed and bothered to fully grasp his ire.
Sawyer’s hand is still pressed to the back of my neck, his other arm wrapped around my waist. I can’t speak, and my head seems to move of its own volition. My nose is inches from his as I move back in, because it might be shameful, but I need to feel his mouth on mine again.
But he ducks away, swerving my advance. I blink, dazed and reeling. “What?”
“I can’t … I don’t … my head is fucking upside down.” He releases me, seeming to curse himself, and runs two frustrated hands through his chocolate brown hair.
Slowly, the world comes back into view. The rose-colored hue fades from the corner of my vision. I realize what he’s done, what we just did. It may have taken me a minute or two longer than Sawyer to begin freaking out, but once I can breathe normally again, my internal alarms start blaring.
“The pie … it’s …” I can’t even complete a sentence, much less a thought.
My dad calls me from the dining room, and I stare at Sawyer, my eyes round as headlights. He can’t even look at me, and my cheeks burn with shame, confusion, and something else I can’t name.
Neither of us says another word, but as I back out of the kitchen to respond to my father, I do it with my gaze still pinned on him.
He just changed the entire game. And now I have no idea what it is we’re playing at.
18
Sawyer
The same obnoxious pop song keeps blasting over and over again, the wood of the basketball court reverberating the annoying beat throughout the gym.
“I can’t believe we volunteered to do this. Again. As if soccer practice isn’t enough.” Glavin huffs out an annoyed breath.
“It would be ten times easier if these girls weren’t all vying for the top spot. Who the fuck cares who is in the front row?” I grumble, agreeing with him.
As I say it, another one of the girls makes a bitchy comment, and they all start arguing again. There are at least a hundred kids from the senior class on the hardwood right now, waiting for their next instruction of choreography. Over the years, participating in the Spirit Night dance has become more and more popular. What used to be stupid, and kind of a sissy position among the tug-o-war and sprint relays, is now viewed as one of the coolest things to participate in during the epic pep rally night.
However, with increased numbers of dancers comes an increased drama quota, or so it seems. Laura, who has choreographed the dance for three years running, is now being challenged by Hailey and her crew. Hailey, of course, has no dance background, but thinks she can do a better job than Blair’s best friend, who is about to try her luck at one of the big dance companies in New York after graduation. It’s ridiculous, I’m tired as hell after a soccer practice that whooped my ass, and my fuse is miniscule.
This is our last week before the sectional championships, after which, if we win, we’ll be going to the state championship. We had a tough road this year, fighting tooth and nail for every victory, and I don’t know which way sectionals will go. Either way, I’ve had a damn good final season playing with my boys.
“I care. I look damn good shaking my ass.” Matt demonstrates for us and howls when Glavin lands a swift kick just north of his balls.
“Idiot. You look like a spastic chicken. Definitely not front row material.” Glavin imitates the girls currently arguing at the front of the gym.
We’ve been here for close to an hour and haven’t even gotten through the first minute of choreography. The dance is usually about seven minutes long, and it takes Laura months to teach it to us, and then to perfect it. I’m hungry and annoyed, but the girls just keep going.
“Why do you get to be in the front row?” Hailey’s voice is the definition of whiny.
Laura looks at her like she’s insane. “Um, how about because I’ve slaved away over the steps, mixing the music, and putting this whole thing together? Not only do I deserve it, but I’m the best dancer here. And, I guarantee, there are a hell of a lot of people back there looking to me to copy my steps.”
“And a lot of people are probably looking to me because my ass is amazing, so I think it’d be just fine if I was front and center.” Hailey gives her a sneer.
“She’s worked on this for months, can you just let it go? You have the cheer squad, you have the homecoming court. Laura has been doing this for years, and she takes a lot of pride in it. We’ll all get our turn in the spotlight, but this is her show.” Blair steps in, trying to defend her friend and also placate the queen bee.
“Stay out of this, loser. Just because you have some bullshit student government title doesn’t mean you have any true power. This isn’t even the theme you wanted, so stop trying to get involved here.” Hailey all but shoves her finger in Blair’s face.
“Oh, no she didn’t—” I hear Nate say from somewhere up front.
Laura holds up a hand, silencing her friends. “If you have a problem with where you are placed, you can feel free to leave. I’m sure after talking with our advisor, she’ll have no problem backing my decision of asking you to leave.”
Blair and her best friend give the most popular girl in our grade saccharine smiles, and a hush of shock goes through the crowd.
Hailey looks like she’s about to start spitting nails. “Who the hell would want to do this stupid fucking dance anyway? It’s ugly, just like its creator.”
And my temper snaps.
“Shut up, Hailey.” My voice is a harsh command.
The whole group goes silent, gawking back and forth from me and my female counterpart, the queen bee to my prom king.
“Wha—what?” Hailey gives a nervous laugh, fluttering her eyelashes. “Stop being so funny, Sawyer.”
She’s trying to act like my telling her to be quiet is some sort of inside joke, to spare herself the embarrassment. But I’m not playing.
“You heard me, I told you to shut the fuck up. You’re being rude, not just to Laura, but to Blair. Grow the hell up.”
I swear, I think her jaw unhinges and falls on the floor. Sneaking a glance over to Blair, she looks almost as shocked as Hailey. After everything I’ve done to her, defending her public
ly is the last thing she’d ever expect.
But after the kiss, I just can’t keep it up anymore. I can’t watch someone else tear her down, and I’m done acting like the asshole who enables it. There is a monster that seems to be ripping out of my chest, and instead of destroying her any longer, he’s going to protect her at all costs.
Something shifted inside me after I went temporarily insane in my kitchen on Thanksgiving and kissed the living hell out of her. Or maybe she kissed the living hell out of me. Whoever started it, we both finished it, and there is still more to be had.
Instead of shrinking back like she should, and walking away with her tail between her legs, Hailey takes the confrontational route. Which I knew she would, but I guess I just wasn’t anticipating the energy I have to muster to combat her in front of all these people.
She jabs a finger in Blair’s direction. “You’re really defending her? This … this … loser! She’s a stuck up nerd, and her and her D-list friends are using this as an excuse to be seen for once in their pathetic—”
“Enough.” My voice could slice glass, and it makes her fall silent almost immediately. My finger now points in Blair’s direction. “These two have been working tirelessly to ensure that the senior class has the best chance at winning Spirit Night. They do so while we, you and I and our cronies, mock them relentlessly. They put on a good face and show up, even when you try to bully and belittle them. So for once in your annoying, privileged life, just shut the fuck up.”
You could hear a feather drop, causing a noise of explosion. That’s how silent this gym is. Half the kids are gaping at me like I’ve just lost my goddamn mind, and the other half is avoiding my direction, hoping I don’t chew into them next.
When my eyes meet Blair’s dark whiskey pools, every emotion in the spectrum passes between us. She tips her head slightly, a thank you, and my heart seizes. How I’ve missed being on her side.
“You guys continue, okay? We’re all ready to listen,” I tell her, even though I should be talking to Laura.
I don’t miss the way Blair’s full mouth, one I know tastes like berry ChapStick, tips up at the side. I’ve made her smile, genuinely smile, for the first time in so many years.
The way the organ in my chest seems to come alive, after years of seeming to sit on a shelf, isn’t lost on me.
One way or another, I’m going to be the one to put that smile on her face from now on.
19
Sawyer
Jesus Christ, get it together, man.
I chastise myself for the fiftieth time in the last five minutes, as I park in front of the Oden house and stare up at it. My stomach has a million butterflies, and I feel like a freaking little girl instead of a six-foot guy who is well past puberty.
But it’s the first time Blair and I have actually agreed to get together to work on our history assignment, instead of passive aggressively emailing back and forth. That’s been our mode of operation, arguing over the interwebs to avoid completing work in person.
It’s also the first time we’re going to be alone since the kiss. After I defended her to Hailey. And since I’m fully aware that her father is at the office with my father, I’m even more nervous.
Why the hell am I nervous? Maybe because you’ve wanted to be with this girl since you were seven.
And as time marches on, the thought of being with her also evolved into being with her, intimately. We’re going to be alone in her house, with a ton of unresolved sexual frustration, and I …
I don’t know what to do. My head feels like it’s spinning on an unstoppable loop when I’m around Blair these days. I ache for her more than I want to hate her, and that alone is confusing. The incident in the gym solidified my decision the other day of trying to patch things up. Of trying to pursue her, because clearly I have no interest in anyone else. I don’t think I ever had, and I don’t think I ever will again.
Blair Oden has been it for me since the day I laid eyes on her. And I might have screwed it up too badly to fix.
But I’m going to try.
I ring the bell, and it’s a minute or two before the heavy oak door, the one with an intricate infinity design Todd had custom-made, opens. Blair is revealed, and her expression looks just as nervous as my insides feel.
“Hey.” I wave, instantly regretting the action because I have no idea what to do with my hands.
“Hi. Come in.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
Once upon a time, we used to be friends. It seems we have no idea how to fall back into that groove now that we are transitioning out of being enemies.
“All of my stuff is set up in my bedroom, so I thought …” Blair trails off, looking awkward as her feet shift on the carpet.
“Yeah, okay,” I respond to a question that she didn’t even ask.
As I trail her up the stairs, I feel like a geeky, anxious virgin again. Idly, I wonder if Blair still is. I lost mine to a girl in our grade at a party last year, in a bedroom that wasn’t my own. We hooked up a couple of times after that, and I slept with another girl this summer. But with the way I’ve limited Blair’s dating life, I’d be surprised if she’s ever been with anyone.
Part of me burns with jealousy, and lights with hope, that no one has ever touched her in the way I want to. A pang of desperation, of yearning, grabs me in the gut so tight; I want to be her first.
It’s all I can do not to stare at the way her waist swishes in those tight black workout leggings girls always wear when hanging out. I itch to run my hands over her, to bury them in her mane of chocolate waves. My mouth longs to taste hers again, but I know we have a lot of discussing to do before that is happening again. I’m not stupid enough to think Blair would let me off the hook that easy.
“So.” She claps her hands, her face turning to business. I’m sure it’s to avoid any personal conversations between us. “I thought you could take the VP role, as I have more experience in government. Well, student government, as you and your friends like to remind me.”
She means it as a dig to my constant digs, but I’m not biting. “Sure, that sounds good.”
Blair blinks, and I see the suspicion in her eyes. She thinks I’m being too amiable, but I’m just not going to fight her anymore.
“And I thought we’d be republican. I tend to lean to the left, so I thought it would be fun to challenge ourselves. Let’s research some viable options for how the republican party can move forward, while also being more humanitarian.”
I blanch at this, because I’m not conservative in my views, just like her. “You’re sure you want to argue for pro-life and conservative financial stances? That’s going to be a little difficult.”
Blair shrugs. “If I want to go into this field, I want it to be with an open mind. So much of what is wrong with politics today is because there is no unity across the aisle. I want to try to change that.”
My opinions get the best of me, and I find myself pushing back on her even though I said I wouldn’t fight.
“You’re one person, Blair, you really think that’s going to work? We both think that gay people should have the right to be legally married, that those in need should be aided by the government, that healthcare should be universal. You want to seriously take on the policies of a party that we don’t agree with at all, just to … what? Prove how smart you are. Everyone already knows that.”
I don’t mean to sound condescending, but I do.
“Yeah, because my wanting to improve my view of the world has to do with shoving my intellect in other’s faces. You forget I’m not the one who cares so deeply about what others think of me,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.
This girl has a way of getting under my skin like no other. “We haven’t even opened our textbooks and you’re already firing bullets?”
“I learned from the best.” She throws me a shit-eating grin.
“Jesus, Blair, I came over here and wanted to … I don’t know. Have a nice time together. I thought—”
“You thought that just because you kissed me, and then cursed out Hailey, I was going to what? Forget the last two years?”
The decibel level is rising, and this is not what I wanted to happen at all.
“How the hell are we supposed to work together on a project? We can barely stand to be in the same room together!” I throw my hands up, exasperated.
“That’s because you’re a jackass with an ego the size of Texas,” she fires back.
“And you’re an insufferable know-it-all with some kind of chip on your shoulder. What the fuck is it, Blair? What the hell is your problem with me?” I’m so tired of dancing around the issue.
It’s been years of this, the back-and-forth, the power struggle. I just want to know, right now, what it is.
“You’ve been terrible to me for so long and I’m to blame?” Her voice is rising.
“Because you broke us! You fucking broke us! We wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t drowned our friendship and abandoned the fucking body at sea,” I snap back, referencing the night of the seven minutes in heaven debacle.
Blair whirls around, madder than I’ve ever seen her, and Jesus fuck, but I want to shut her up before she even rallies against me by crushing my mouth to hers. She’s so goddamn beautiful, and we’re alone in her bedroom, and …
I don’t though, because the next words that come out of her mouth stop my world turning. “You broke us first!”
The words crack in her throat; they seem as painful as choking on glass as I watch them explode from her mouth.
“You broke us first. You wrote all of those ugly things about me. A list, Sawyer? You needed a fucking list to tell you if it was okay to feel attracted to me? Imagine how that broke me? So yeah, I embarrassed you in a dumb game of seven minutes in heaven. But you destroyed me.”
The words she uttered the night of Hailey’s party come rushing back … you can date someone prettier than me. All of the blood in my body must drain to my feet, because I feel woozy and freezing cold.
Foes & Cons Page 10
