Chapter 19 Sawyer
Chapter nineteen
Sawyer
“That’s… a lot. Like, way too fucking much for one person to handle, babe. I can’t believe you’ve been dealing with all this on your own.”
Cam’s gentle sympathy slams into me like a punch to the gut, and fresh tears fill my eyes. I dab at my face with a tissue, grateful I haven’t applied my eye makeup yet.
“I know.” I blow out a heavy sigh and shift, adjusting the way my legs are tucked beneath me. “Everything spiraled so quickly. I didn’t mean to keep it all bottled up… I could barely keep up myself.”
Cam arrived an hour ago so we could pregame and get ready for the party in Akron, and when she playfully asked how Mercer felt about me going to a party without him, I burst into tears.
She tried to hug me. That just made me cry harder.
I broke down, sliding to the floor of my dorm room and sobbing over my broken relationships and the wreckage I’ve caused, divulging everything that’s happened since the first day Tytus and I stepped into Mercer’s class.
It was cathartic, connecting the dots and revealing how things had escalated so quickly and disastrously. But now my face is puffy from crying, and I’m exhausted. The last thing I want to do is get ready for a party. I probably wouldn’t even go if my friend wasn’t already here with me.
Cam squeezes my hand, her warm brown eyes brimming with concern. Shit. She’s going to make me cry again.
“Can I at least give you kudos for bagging three hot-as-hell men?” she asks, her plump lips curving into a smirk that eases my anxiety a little. “You are living my dream right now, girl.”
Scoffing, I cock a brow. “And where does Bryant fall into that dream?”
She rolls her eyes and gives my knee a little shove, but she quickly recovers and scoops up my hands, giving them a squeeze. “What can I do for you?”
A fresh wave of emotion clogs my throat. Dammit. I hate when people feel sorry for me—especially over a mess of my own making.
Sniffling, I shake my head. “Be my wing woman tonight and help me find someone I can get under in hopes of getting over those three?”
She searches my face, her expression wary. Like she doesn’t believe that’s what I really want.
I don’t believe it either, but it’s the only path forward.
Eventually she purses her lips and hums. “You’re sure?”
No.
“Yes,” I insist, waving a hand at my swollen, tearstained face. “I can’t go on like this.”
I’m tired of crying. Drained from missing them. Exhausted from resisting every time one of them reaches out.
And I can’t escape them. Noah, Tytus, and Mercer are everywhere.
Every academic building on this campus reminds me of Mercer.
Stepping into the ice arena instantly makes me think of Ty.
Every leaf I stomp on as I walk across campus and every bee that floats by, slow and languid from the cold, triggers memories of Noah.
They’re inescapable, but I’m determined to forget.
It’s taking everything I have to resist giving in to one of them.
But they all hurt me. And, more importantly, they all hurt each other.
I can’t choose between them. I won’t. Moving on from all three of them is the only way to protect them from the drama and heartache that plagues me and spreads like an oil spill to anyone who gets too close.
“I’m sure,” I tell her with as much conviction as I can muster. “I want to let loose tonight.”
She snorts. “Loose, huh? How loose are we talking?”
Smirking, I shift to my knees. “Really fucking loose. It’s going to take a blackout kind of night to get over those three.”
Her eyes go wide. “Blackout?”
I rise to my feet and shrug. “Maybe not total blackout. But as long as you’re sure Bryant’s a trusty designated driver, I’m not going to limit myself.”
She stands, too, and swoops her braids to one shoulder. “Oh, he’s trustworthy, all right. He goes full dad mode on our asses when he’s DD.”
I move over to the mirror, assessing the damage from my unexpected sob sesh. My eyes are still puffy and red from crying, but it’s not unsalvageable. I can work with this.
“So with your desire for self-destruction in mind,” she starts, watching me in the mirror, “We need to be on the same page about limits. I’m going hard tonight, but something tells me you’re going harder.”
I smirk in confirmation.
“Do you want to be cut off at any point?” She takes a step closer. “Like, do we really trust heartbroken, inebriated Sawyer to make good decisions?”
It’s my turn to snort. I haven’t let myself label what I’m going through. The word heartbreak doesn’t even begin to describe the anguish. Every dream I allowed myself to stitch together over the last few months has been shredded into frayed ribbons of hopelessness.
I’m hollow.
Empty.
On the plus side, I don’t have anything left to lose.
I pick up my concealer and apply it to the dark circles under my eyes. “We do not trust inebriated Sawyer to make any good decisions, but that’s kind of the point.”
“Okay.” She nods once. “Just lay out the ground rules, then. I’m assuming you want us to bring you back to Holt at the end of the night?”
I use my ring finger to blend the concealer, although the exercise is in vain.
Nothing can truly cover the swollen, tender, dark skin that’s developed over the last few weeks.
“Not necessarily.” I straighten and pick up the mascara.
“My phone is fully charged. I’ve got condoms. If I tell you I want to go home with someone or stay longer, just leave me. ”
Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t push back. When her phone buzzes and she tells me that Bryant is just a few minutes out, I check my bag, my fit, and my roadie. I’m ready to see where this night takes me.
“Wait!” I say, digging into my bag again. “I bought matching glitter freckles for us!”
“The guys just pulled in,” she says, focused on her phone.
“Tell them we need three more minutes.”
I may not have any more of my own natural sparkle, but there’s always time for glitter freckles.
I grab a damp cloth and dutifully apply the temporary tattoos to her cheeks and nose and then mine. Then we take a few selfies, grab our stuff, and head out the door.
“So when you said this was a big party…” I can’t help but gawk at the scene before me. The house is massive—or maybe it’s not a house. Maybe it’s a full apartment complex?
Trap music is already vibrating in my bones and we’re still a few driveways away. Warmth spreads through me, the promise of loud music and dancing in a crowd lighting up all the happy places in my brain.
This is good. This is exactly what I need.
“They don’t call it A-K-Rowdy for nothing, Sawy.” Bryant slings an arm over my shoulders and then snakes the other around Cam.
Shrugging him off and issuing a pointed glare to the guy she’s most definitely not dating (according to her), Cam confirms. “It’s the biggest party of the year. People come in from all over. I’ve been coming since I was a freshman.”
That stirs something in my consciousness. “Makes sense. There’s a chance one of my old friends will be here, actually.”
“Old, as in significantly older than you?” Cam teases with a wag of her brows.
“No,” I correct. “Old, as in she was a friend when I attended CEGEP and university.”
“C-what?” Arjun asks, stumbling a few steps behind us. He’s already as drunk as I am. A feat, considering Bryant refused to let him bring his roadie (an orange Solo cup without a lid) for the drive.
Silly Arjun. Water bottles filled with clear liquor are always the way to go.
“CEGEP. It’s like high school in Montreal,” I explain.
“Suffice to say your friend is going to be hot,” Arjun decrees.
“Suffice to what?” Bryant laughs, shaking his head. “Who talks like that?”
Arjun freezes in place, making us all turn to look at him, his expression going somber. “Drunk Arjun.”
Snorting, I look over to Cam and Bryant. “Does he always talk in third person when he’s—”
I’m cut off, reeling back as a body darts between Cam and me.
“Arjun is ready to PAR-tay!” he shouts, zigzagging through the yard.
“Apparently so,” she snickers. Then, shifting into manager mode, she yells, “Check in with us in an hour, Arjun. I mean it!”
At the bottom of the porch steps, we stop and take in the sights and sounds of what appears to be an absolute rager.
“You checkin’ in with me in an hour, too, Mama?” Bryant asks Cam.
I take that as my cue to excuse myself. “I’m going to go try to find Keira,” I say.
Bryant ignores me, his head bent low, whispering in Cam’s ear.
Cam’s eyes flit to me. I raise both brows and grin, assuring her I’m good.
The instant I step inside and take in the scene, a sense of ease I haven’t felt in weeks washes over me.
I’ve never been to this house before. Hell, I’ve never even been to this city.
But huge house parties like this come with a strange familiarity and comfort.
With each step I take, I come closer to the moment when I can abandon my feelings and wash away all the hurt with alcohol and an anonymous hookup.
I’ve had to survive on empty before. This is my favorite way to cope.
The place is packed, with people sitting and standing on every surface, slowing my exploration, but the loud music thumping from farther inside is like a siren’s song pulling me in.
This is what I need.
To get lost in this crowd. To let go and let loose and let myself forget, if only for a while.
I weave through what appears to be a living room, then pass a few lively games of beer pong happening on two folding tables in the dining room.
“Hey, pretty lady,” a very drunk, very clearly underaged frat boy says. He’s got a drink in one hand and is wearing sunglasses inside the house. “You look good, baby. You’d look even better on my—”
“Nope.” I cut him off, pushing past him without looking back.
A surprise surge of annoyance courses through me as I navigate down the hall.
A huge party means good odds for finding an anonymous hookup. But I sort of forgot how much riffraff I’d have to sort through to accomplish my mission.
There are people everywhere. If I had my wits about me, I’d be worried about the integrity of this house.
I finish off the last sips of my roadie and pop up on my toes, looking for the kitchen. I need another drink.
A subtle touch along my exposed stomach makes me jolt, and I drop back to the balls of my feet.
“Hey, Red.”
I turn and find gorgeous blue eyes and a suggestive smirk. The person is wearing loose jeans and a boxy T-shirt with their hair pulled up in a small bun, showing off the fade beneath it. I home in on a gold eyebrow piercing, and suddenly things are looking up.
“Hi, I’m Sawyer.”
“I’m Taylor,” they reply, licking their lips.
“Tay, come on. We’re up!”
My new friend’s face flashes with disappointment. With a groan, they hike a thumb over their shoulder toward the beer pong room. “Duty calls. Save me a dance later, Sawyer?”
My cheeks heat. “Absolutely.”
As eager as I am to dance, I’m thinking I just want to grab a drink and watch a few rounds of beer pong.
I shoulder through the crowd lingering in the long hallway, officially on a mission. I’m nearly to what I think is the kitchen, eager to see what’s on offer, when hands land on my shoulders, the pressure stopping me in my tracks.
“Bitch! You’re here!”
“Keira.” Smiling, I turn around and hug her. “You made it! How was the drive?”
She grins at me, her hazel eyes glassy and unfocused.
She’s dressed in a shiny red body con dress, her tits practically spilling out the top.
Her eye makeup is dark and heavy, her lips painted crimson.
Her raven black hair has been straightened and is so long it almost reaches her waist. She looks gorgeous.
“JD was a mess until we got across the border. He didn’t chill the fuck out until halfway through New York. But now we’re here.”
I look past her, searching for her boyfriend. It seems risky as fuck to cross an international border to push product. But JD’s always been careless. Keira has a reckless streak, too.
When I don’t spot JD right away, I assume he’s working the crowds and focus back on my old friend again. Her features are sharper than when I last saw her. But the twinkle of mischief in her eye is the same as it’s always been.
“How are you?”
Her grin grows wider. “Amazing now that you’re here.” She drags her eyes up and down my body, the assessment so salacious it sends a shiver up my spine. “You look so good, girl. Damn.”
Warmth creeps up my chest and into my cheeks. I’m too drunk to decipher whether she’s complimenting me as a friend or flirting. With Keira, it could honestly be either. Or both. We’ve never hooked up before, but she’s always been the touchy-feely type, and she’s extra affectionate when she’s drunk.
“Have you found the kitchen yet? What are we drinking tonight?” I ask, tipping my chin toward the orange plastic cup in her hand.
She snorts. “Who cares what we’re drinking? The real question is what are we taking?” With an impish smile, she pulls out a tiny baggie and holds it up between us.
“Has JD got you pushing product too?” I jibe, inspecting the two capsules sealed in plastic.
“No, bitch.” She huffs. “I’m here for pleasure, not business. Speaking of pleasure…” She hands me her cup, carefully opens the baggie, and shakes the two capsules into her palm. “I brought you a little present. One for you and one for me. It’s molly, because I know you’re a snob about E.”
She’s right. MDMA is my go-to at parties like this, but I’m way too cautious to take tablets because of the possibility of unknown fillers.
A capsule would usually give me pause, too.
Tonight, I honestly don’t care.
Keira pops one pill into her mouth, takes her cup back, and uses the contents to wash it down.
“Open,” she whispers, holding the light blue capsule between her pointer finger and thumb and inching closer.
For a moment, alarm bells sound in my mind. But I quickly shut them down and shake off the hesitation.
This is what I came for. To bury the hurt. To chase away the sadness, if only for this night.
With an eagerness that borders on desperation, I push down the last of the niggling concern and open my mouth.
She places the pill on my tongue, one finger tracing my bottom lip. Then she pulls back, grinning, and brings her cup to my lips. When she tips it back slightly, I let the liquid pour into my mouth and swallow the capsule.
Then I playfully stick out my tongue to show her.
“That’s my girl,” she cheers. Then she slings one arm around my neck and smacks a wet kiss on my cheek. “I’m so fucking excited. Let’s grab fresh drinks and go dance.”
I don’t reply. I don’t need to with her. She’ll take the lead. She’ll drag me onto the dance floor and ensure I stay just as intoxicated as she is for as long as we’re together.
With a smile on my face, I let her pull me toward the kitchen and all the reckless decisions I fully intend to make.