Zelda
For a second there, I think Sawyer might climb over the table and crush my mouth with his, which would be a huge relief. It would release the tension that’s been building between my legs and soaking my panties the entire time we’ve been together this afternoon…which can’t be more than an hour.
It’s the longest hour of my life.
We keep dancing around a flirtation that’s crackling with sexual energy, but when I think something might change, when I think that we might move ahead, when I think he might get up from the table and give me his hand and take me somewhere that we can be alone, the waitress appears with the food.
My stomach growls, and by the time she’s gone, I can breathe again and my heart no longer punches at my rib cage.
I still want him.
But I’m also hungry.
I see him let out a big breath, but he watches me eat one of the fries and his shoulders relax. He must feel it, too. He must feel the tension pulsing through my veins, so intense that it’s almost giving me a headache.
I need to get ahold of myself for a minute, and then I can…
Then I can what, take him back to my parents’ house? Not a chance. My mom is already wondering where I’ve gone, and every time I get a text, it sets my teeth on edge.
This is why I need to get out of here. This is why I need to have my own life. This is why I need some freedom to be able to take a risk once in a while, and not have my mother worrying about me.
My stomach twists at the thought because she can’t help it, and it’s pretty mean to blame her for being protective. College was hard enough. It was a relief to all of us, I think, when I moved back in with them.
We’re both silent as we work our way through the first bites of our burgers—mine is juicy and hot and delicious, and it’s all I can do not to close my eyes while I savor it—but Sawyer’s the first to break the silence.
“So, what’s your deal?”
He asked me this before, but his voice was deep and husky, and the question had sex written all over it. Now he’s asking about me, Zelda, the person.
“What do you mean?” I put my burger back on top of the fries and take a sip of my Coke. This is by far the best way to have a burger. I’m going to come back here again, even if Sawyer disappears from town and I never see him again.
Another thought that makes my stomach jolt. I dismiss it immediately.
“Why do you live with your parents?”
“To save money.” The answer comes to my lips automatically, and it is true, in a way.
Sawyer narrows his eyes. “Is that all of it?”
“Yeah,” I say with a little shrug, but it seems ridiculous to tell half-truths to him, even if he’s never going to be the type who hangs around.
“Actually, no.” I search for the words to describe the wave of relief I felt when I walked into my parents’ house.
“Something happened to me in high school, and it was really stressful for them for me to be away at college. Stressful for me, too. It seemed like a good idea to…to wait a little while before being on my own.”
Sawyer considers me. “You’ve never lived alone?”
“Not really. I lived in the dorms all through college, and during the summers, I stayed on to work at the university library. In the summer, I had a single room, but there were always plenty of people who lived there with me.”
“So you’ve never with a boyfriend.” It’s not really a question, but there’s something in his voice that makes me want to answer anyway.
“No. I’ve never…been with someone like that.” His eyebrows lift toward the ceiling of the bar, and it makes me laugh. “Not like that,” I say, rolling my eyes, unable to keep a smile off my face. “I’ve been with…I’ve been with someone like that. It’s always sex with you, isn’t it?”
“Always?” Sawyer’s grin is sexy, sultry, and it sends another wave of electric pleasure down my spine. “This is only our second conversation ever, and I don’t think we talked about sex at the club.”
“We didn’t? Well, it must have been…implied.” I can feel his eyes on me even through my hands, so I uncover my face and look at him, letting him see the color in my cheeks. It makes me feel bold, his eyes on me, shy but also bold. “I thought about it afterward.”
“You’re not the only one.”
The heat is back sizzling in the air between us, so intense that I want to whip my shirt over my head so I can feel a breeze against my skin.
I take a deep breath in and blow it out through my lips. “You’ve got to stop.”
“Stop what?” Sawyer’s grin tells me he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“We’re only on our first date. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, not talking about—”
Sawyer laughs out loud. “This isn’t a date, remember?”
“Oh, it is so a date.”
“You still don’t know my last name.”
I did say that. I did say that if he told me his last name, then we could go on a date. But this feels like a date, and I want more out of it than burgers and fries. I want more, and I can’t deny it, and I don’t want to. Not in this moment, at least.
“Then tell me your name. But it would really seal the deal if I had your phone number.”
Sawyer looks at me for a long moment, like he’s deciding if this is worth it to him, and then he reaches down to his jeans and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “What’s yours?”
“You first.”
“I’m going to text it to you.”
“Fine.” I keep my tone light, but my heart is in my throat.
The thought of having access to him like this—even though we’re first date strangers and clearly as different as two people can be—gives me butterflies.
Butterflies, like it’s my first real crush.
I reel off my number, and seconds later my phone buzzes again.
I pull it out because Sawyer’s watching me with a grin on his face, and I ignore the messages from my mother.
I open the one that he sent.
“Sawyer Mitchell,” I read out loud.
I know right then that it won’t be the last time his name is on my lips.