Southern Seduction

by Alcorn, N. A.

  Looking down at her, I see a sadness in her eyes, and it’s unnerving. She’s biting her lip, her eyes searching mine. When she sees me watching her, a smile spreads over her face. She sits up and motions for me to flip over, wanting me on my back. We don’t break contact, and she’s straddling me, ready to ride me. As she leans down, her soft breasts brush against my chest as she begins to move up and down on me.

  “No matter what happens, I love you, Sawyer. I always will.”

  I close my eyes, and her words play over and over in my mind. There’s a sense of finality to them, and I can’t help the feeling of foreboding that washes over me. We still have a week together, but something tells me that, after this night, nothing for us will ever be the same.

  Cheyenne

  It’s still dark when I wake up. Sawyer’s arm is wrapped around my waist, and for a split second, I relish in his warmth. Last night’s events come flooding back in. I remember the look of disdain and pity my mother gave me when Sawyer said he loved me. She almost looked like she felt sorry for me, the poor little naïve girl who actually thought the rich city boy would love her forever. Her words continue to play over and over in my mind, and the more I hear them, the more true they sound. I can’t continue to think about this while I’m in bed with him. I have to get out of here, to go somewhere where I can think straight without his hot, naked body lying next to me. I try to slip out of the bed, but his hand comes up to grab me, pulling me back down on the bed so I’m flat on my back.

  “Where you goin’, pretty girl?” he asks sleepily, his hand running up and down my stomach.

  “It’s late, Sawyer, and even though she doesn’t deserve it, I should probably go see if my mom’s at home. Maybe in some messed-up sort of way she actually cares that I ran out upset and haven’t been home.” It’s a lame excuse. We both know she doesn’t give a shit, but he doesn’t protest. Instead, he leans down and presses a kiss on my lips. I get up out of bed, and he sits up.

  “I’m heading back to the farm. Work’s startin’ in less than thirty minutes. See you tonight?” he asks, and I have to bite my lip not to cry. The truth is that I have no idea what’s going to happen after I go home.

  I nod, and Sawyer must sense my hesitation because he grabs my hand and pulls me into a hug.

  “I love you, pretty girl. You know that, right?”

  “I know,” I tell him, somehow forcing myself to sound teasing. “I love you, too, city boy.”

  With that, he plants a kiss on my nose and then slaps me on the ass. “You bet your ass you do. Don’t ever forget it.”

  With a forced laugh, I wave goodbye and head out into the moonlight.

  As I pull into the driveway, I’m instantly confused. Her Mercedes is sitting there, but right next to it is Daddy’s truck. Or well, what used to be his truck. It looks like it has a brand-new body, complete with a new bright candy-apple-red paint job. Hopping out of the car, I run my hands along the exterior and peer inside. Instead of the worn seats with torn upholstery, the sight of fresh leather seats greets me.

  I hear the screen door slam and turn towards the house, forgetting the truck for now. My mom is standing there, her arms folded over her chest.

  “It is almost five in the morning. Where in the hell have you been, Cheyenne?” she asks, her eyes narrowing as she takes in my appearance. “Good Lord, were you with him again? Even after everything?”

  Without answering, I push past her and enter the house, stopping in my tracks when I see Thomas sitting at the table with boxes packed around him. “What’s going on?” I ask. He looks tired, and I wonder if this is her doing.

  She comes in behind me. “We’ve sold the house, Cheyenne, and after your little temper tantrum, we thought we’d be nice and go ahead and box everything up for you. You’ll find that most of your bedroom is packed and already loaded into the truck so you can leave in the morning.”

  I rush back to my room, and just like she said, my room is completely bare. My vanity is the only thing left untouched, and my guess is that’s only so she can make sure that I’m presentable for my road trip. I make my way back out towards where they are in the kitchen.

  “I don’t have to leave for Berkeley for another week. Why would I leave tomorrow?”

  Thomas gets up from the table, claiming to need some fresh air. She doesn’t speak again until we’re left alone. “We felt it best that you leave as soon as possible. It’s apparent that you and Sawyer developed feelings for each other. The sooner that you’re separated, the better. This way no one will have to find out about this little scandal. You can go onto Berkeley, he can go to Auburn, and no one will be the wiser.”

  My heart starts racing at the thought of being separated from him. I can’t. I’ve come to depend on him. I haven’t felt this alive, this wanted, this loved, since Daddy died, and the thought of losing that kind of love all over again is heart shattering.

  “There’s no scandal here. We didn’t know you two were together. You probably can’t even consider us stepsiblings, seeing as how you’ve been married for all of a day,” I try to argue, but I know it’s falling on deaf ears.

  Her eyes soften, and she motions for me to sit down. “Cheyenne, sweetie, we’re just trying to look out for you. After you left the restaurant, Sawyer agreed to his father’s terms. He’ll stay at Auburn and not lose his inheritance or his place in the company. I know you think you two are in love, but you have to understand men like them. They don’t fall for women like us. At least not the first time around. Even if Sawyer did follow you out to Berkeley, he’d do one of two things. He’d resent you for costing him his future, or even worse, he’d end up finding one of the socialites on campus to spend his time with. I know this is painful to hear, yet it’s the truth. You two come from completely different circles. Do you really want to be the reason he gives up on his future, for one that probably won’t even last?”

  Tears are streaming down my face now, and my mind is feeling so conflicted. Everything she’s saying is breaking my heart, but in her own messed-up way, she is making sense. Can I be the reason Sawyer gives everything up? I’m eighteen years old. Can I really expect him to move across country for me? The more I start to question it, the more glaringly obvious the answer is. But one thing is still nagging in the back of my head, and Thomas walks in just in time to answer my question—hopefully honestly.

  “Thomas, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot earlier. It was just… Well, it was a shock.” I pause and he nods in acceptance. “But I need to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead, Cheyenne,” he says, his eyes soft. I look at my mother, and I can see her eyes darting back and forth between the two of us.

  “When I left the restaurant, did Sawyer agree to stay at Auburn in order to get his inheritance?”

  Thomas looks as me strangely. “No, absolutely not. In fact, it was the opposite. I don’t know how you’ve gotten so close to my son, but I’ve never seen him that adamant about something. He’d give it all up just to go to Berkeley, regardless of if I cut him off or not.”

  A warmth washes over me from knowing that Sawyer didn’t agree to that. I’m pissed at myself for even believing her for a second. “That’s what I thought. Before I say anything else, what’s with the truck? I thought it was sold for parts.”

  My mom jumps in before Thomas can answer. “Oh, Cheyenne, I was just kidding when I said that. I swear, you are too serious for your own good. Thomas wanted to surprise you, and me, by fixing up the truck as a present for you. He wanted to make sure you had reliable transportation to get to California. Isn’t that sweet of him? It has a brand-new transmission, engine, and everything!”

  Choking up at the thought that a stranger cared enough to do that, I stand up and give Thomas a hug. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.” I’m not sure how this same man is the one who threatened to cut his son off, but I can understand that maybe he thought he was doing best by his son, not wanting him to throw his future away on a summer romance.
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br />   He returns my hug awkwardly, and I can hear my mother hands clap behind us. “We’re going to be a wonderful family!” I shake my head, almost laughing at how delusional she must be. Thomas leaves the room, heading back towards the master bedroom.

  “See, Cheyenne? He could be a good stepfather if only you’d give him a chance.”

  “What’s the point? I’m leaving for Berkeley and probably won’t see him again in a long time. It’s not like we’ll have a chance to build a relationship or anything.”

  She lets out a sigh of relief. “So you are leaving? Cheyenne, honey, I really do think that’s for the best. I’m sure you had a lovely summer with Sawyer, but let’s be honest here. His parents were both extremely wealthy and came from names that mean something down here. You’re a Hamilton. The daughter of a sailor. In the end, he’s not the type of man to settle down with someone like you.”

  “You met Sawyer all of one time and you think you know what type of person he is? You don’t even know your own daughter, so please, cut the crap. The whole reason you want me to leave is because you think our being together is going to upset this perfect little family that you think you’ve created by marrying Thomas. You’re so deluded, thinking anyone will give a shit that he and I are together. The only reason I’m leaving is because of him. He may love me enough to give everything up for me, but I love him enough not to let him. Because somehow, I don’t truly believe that Thomas would cut him off. At least not without you in his ear, telling him that he needs to. A man doesn’t get a truck restored for a stepdaughter he’s never met just to turn around and treat his son like a piece of throwaway crap, the same way you’ve treated me all of these years.”

  “That’s it! I’m tired of you being an ungrateful brat. I’ve put a roof over your head, food on your table, and provided for you ever since your daddy died. Have you ever once said thanks? No! All you do is complain about how terrible of a mother I am and I’m sick of it. I get it, Cheyenne. Your daddy was the perfect parent and you got screwed when he died and you were stuck with me. Well, I’m sorry. You must resent me for being the one who’s still here. Well, you know those feelings? That’s exactly how Sawyer’s going to feel when he wakes up in ten years with no college degree, no money, and a wife from a white-trash town in Georgia. Do you really want to live your life that way? The way that I did with your father?!”

  The sobs are racking through me with such violence that I can barely breathe. I have to get out of here. She’s right, and in that moment, I get a glimpse of what my future could be like. I know she had dreams that she put on hold when she got married and had me. What I didn’t realize is that she resented me and probably Daddy for it. Is that what Sawyer will turn into? What I’ll turn into? Suddenly, being here, in this house, in Shiloh Grove is overwhelmingly, and I know I have to leave.

  Rushing back to my room, I start throwing everything from my vanity in my backpack. My jewelry box falls over and the contents go scrambling. Falling to the floor, I try desperately to find everything. Apparently she’s followed me, and I can hear her standing in the doorway, continuing her barrage, but I tune her out. I find both of the rings Daddy gave her, but I can’t find his wedding band. I’m searching frantically, but I can hardly see the floorboards through my tears.

  Her voice starts penetrating, and my brain is screaming at me to flee, but my heart can’t leave this room without finding it. When she enters the room and tries to grab my jewelry box away from me, I can no longer stand it. I jump up, knocking her to the floor. Rushing out to the kitchen I spot the keys to the truck. I grab them and then dart outside. I take a quick moment to get anything of value out of my car. Before I know it, I’m pulling out of the driveway without looking back.

  Cheyenne

  The sun’s coming up as I head down the dirt road towards the lake. It’s the safest place I can think of to go. I need to get my bearings and I can’t do that at home. Well, actually, I guess I no longer have a home. I can’t go to the farm just yet, in case Sawyer hasn’t headed out to the stables or the fields. In the back of my mind, I know what I have to do. I just have no idea how I’m going to get up the courage to do so. What my mother doesn’t understand—and probably never will—is that Sawyer made her argument for her. She didn’t need to go on about how I’d never be good enough for him or how I wouldn’t be the suitable wife. I think deep down I already knew that.

  Sawyer was ready to give up everything for me at the drop of a hat. He didn’t even blink an eye when Thomas said he’d cut him off. He planned on transferring to Berkeley, and apparently it’s been on his mind for a while since he was so adamant about it. I never, not once, seriously considered transferring to Auburn. The thought had crossed my mind before, but I always found some reasoning to continue with my plan to go to Berkeley. I’m eighteen. I can’t let him uproot his entire life for me.

  I saw the hurt in his eyes when I told our parents that they were crazy, that two people can’t fall in love in one summer. I immediately wanted to take the words back when I said them, but it was too late. I never meant us, but the more I think about it, the crazier it does seem. I love Sawyer. They aren’t made-up feelings. I think that, more than anything, I needed him. And he needed me. We were two lonely souls, looking for a place to call home. And for a short while, we were that for each other.

  There is a nagging thought in the back of my mind. I don’t understand why he played down his wealth or his father’s position as the CEO of a company. Did he think I was like my mom? Did he think I would care or like him more or less if I knew about it? Nothing about him this summer screamed money, and if I’m honest with myself, I know that would’ve turned me off. Maybe he sensed that. After all, I did make a rash judgment when I sized him up and called him city boy. Perhaps it’s partly my fault. Maybe he felt like he couldn’t share that part of himself with me because I teased. Either way, it’s too late to dwell on it. What’s done is done, and as much as it’s going to hurt, I know what I have to do.

  Pulling out my notepad from my backpack, I have no idea what I’m going to say. I look out on the water, as if inspiration will somehow strike me. A couple of birds are playing at the edge of the shore, and I swear they’re swallows. My heart starts to race, wondering if it’s some sort of sign. I lift up my sunglasses and squint to get a closer look, and my heart sinks when I realize they’re simply blackbirds. So much for thinking some sort of divine intervention would get me out of this mess. Eventually, I put pen to paper and struggle to find the right words to say, wishing they’d flow as freely as the tears streaming down my face.

  I have no idea how long I sit there reflecting back on this summer. Was it really only a couple of months ago that I was dreaming of Daddy and swallows and heartbreak, only to be woken up by Sawyer? This day also feels paralleled to it, but instead of it being the beginning of something beautiful, it’s the end of the best summer of my life.

  All of a sudden, a flutter of wings rustles in the tree above me, and I watch as the lone bird flies out and perches on a post by the dock. It’s looking at me, head cocked to the side, almost as if it’s asking, “Why are you crying?” I stand, slowly creeping closer so I don’t scare it away.

  When I’m only a few feet away, I can’t help the smile that crosses my face. It’s a swallow, perched alone but still standing tall. I recall the last time I saw the same thing. That was the day I had to say goodbye to Daddy. And today I’m greeted by the same sight. Today. The day I have to say goodbye to Sawyer. Suddenly, my heart doesn’t seem so heavy. I’ve done this once before. I can do it again. And maybe, just maybe, Daddy’s promise will come true for me.

  Feeling a sense of renewal and confidence that I’m doing the right thing for Sawyer, for myself, I gather up my things and head to the truck. When I glance at the clock, I realize that it’s still early enough for me to slip into the house and place the letter on his bed without him catching me. It’s cowardly, I can admit that, but if I see him, I don’t think I’ll be able to do thi
s.

  When I pull up to the house, I quietly close the door to the truck and tiptoe up on the porch. I know Wyatt never leaves the door locked during the day, so I slip inside and make my way to Sawyer’s bedroom. It’s practically bare. He never felt the need to decorate since he spent most of his time with me or outside. His bed is freshly made, and with shaky hands, I place the letter on his pillow. His name in bold dark letters glares at me, and I can only imagine the look on his face when he reads the content.

  “What’re you doin’, girlie?” I spin around quickly to see Wyatt standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching me. A piece of straw is sticking out of his mouth, and I glance behind him, terrified that Sawyer’s about to walk in. “Don’t worry. He’s a couple of acres away repairin’ a fence. He’s got a couple of hours of work ahead of him before he’ll be back. You runnin’?

  I swallow hard, not sure what to say. Weird as it may seem, Wyatt knows me better than most people in Shiloh Grove do. He’s been almost like a surrogate uncle for me, and it’s not surprising that he can read me.

  “I…I’m heading to Berkeley early.”

  “Does Sawyer know?” he asks. I shake my head, ashamed, unable to get the words out. “Come on. Let’s get you somethin’ to drink before you head out.”

  I follow him to the kitchen where he pours two glasses of lemonade. Cocking an eyebrow up, I smell it before taking a sip.

  “Girl, I wouldn’t serve you whiskey before you hit the road. What kinda old man do you think I am?”

  I laugh, and it feels good to do so.

  “I heard about your mama and Thomas. That man’s never had a lick of sense. Ever since my sister died, God rest her soul, he’s been a little out there. He may threaten to cut off the boy, but he’d never go through with it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I can’t take that chance, Wyatt. Plus there’s the whole stepsiblings, our-parents-are-married weird thing going on.” I know my argument sounds weak, but my mind’s made up and he won’t change it.