Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
PRESTON
I hate our weekly department meetings, but today’s is especially awful. There’s discussion and it keeps going on and on and on. Meanwhile, I forgot my tablet in the office so I can’t sneak in some work during the endless chatter.
Instead, I’m ignoring the talking and obsessively glaring at Fitz. He doesn’t seem to notice. He’s contributing to the discussion, asking intelligent questions, and posing constructive ideas. He’s smiling and laughing and whenever he talks, other people smile and laugh.
He’s done every task I’ve given him in the lab, and he’s done them exactly the way I told him to.
He’s got suggestions for every problem, good ones even I haven’t thought of before.
He’s actually been helpful, and we’ve gotten more done on my research in the month he’s been here than I did on my own all summer.
I hate him. He’s so goddamn perfect, and I hate him. Why does he have to be so smart? So cooperative? Such a team player?
I’ve tried to like him. Okay, that’s a lie.
I’ve tried to tolerate him, tried to not hate him so much.
He almost won me over a couple times. We’d be in the lab, he’d say something that sparks an idea, and we’d start brainstorming.
The next thing I know I’m smiling and enjoying myself.
Then I remember he’s having sex with Sawyer and the hot bitterness roils inside me again.
I tried to stay away from Sawyer. I tried to give him room to have a relationship with Fitz, and I tried not to be upset about it. Sawyer deserves to be with someone he likes. He deserves to be happy, find love, and have a partner. But why does he have to have those things with Fitz?
Why can’t he have those things with me?
Time slows to a standstill. The voices around me fade to silence. I’m paralyzed by the thought, lungs and limbs frozen. The only organ still functioning is my heart, which is racing like I’ve been injected with a giant syringe of adrenaline.
Why can’t Sawyer have those things with me? Happiness. Partnership. Love. With me?
Do I even want those things? I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before.
I jolt as everyone around me pushes their chairs back and stands up. For a moment, I’m completely disoriented. Where am I? What’s going on?
Oh. The meeting’s ended and everyone is leaving.
I hurry to leave, dodging between my colleagues to rush out of the room. I need quiet. I need to be alone. I need to figure out what the hell is going on with my thoughts.
“Preston!”
I’m almost around the corner when I hear my name, and I make the mistake of slowing down rather than speeding up. Fitz is on me in a flash.
“Hey! You ran out of there pretty quick.”
“Yeah,” I mutter as I scurry toward the stairs. What does he want? Hasn’t he rubbed his perfection in my face enough today? I’ve got more important things to think about than him.
“So, um, I was hoping to talk to you—about Sawyer.”
I nearly trip down the stairs and only just catch myself on the banister before I tumble head-first to my death.
“Whoa, you okay?” Fitz grabs my arm—a few seconds too late, ha, he’s not that perfect—and waits till I find my footing before letting go.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I shrug him off and cling to the handrail. Fitz might want to talk about Sawyer, but I don’t. Sawyer’s the last thing I want to talk to him about.
I turn and continue down the stairs, keeping one hand on the banister this time. Fitz falls into step next to me.
“Do you want to grab coffee?” Fitz asks as if we’re friends, as if grabbing coffee was a perfectly normal thing for the two of us to do.
“I’m busy.” I mutter, trying to hurry without tripping over my own feet.
Fitz, to his credit, doesn’t have any trouble keeping up. Asshole. “Yeah, sure, of course. Maybe tomorrow then?”
“I don’t know. Probably not.” Reaching the basement, I push my way out of the stairwell and turn right for the grad student office. Why is Fitz still following me? Why is he still trying to talk to me?
Just as we reach the office, Fitz steps in front of me and blocks the doorway.
“What are you doing?” I glare at him. “You’re in the way. Move.”
Fitz doesn’t move. “Preston,” he says. His usual boisterous enthusiasm is nowhere in sight. His expression is serious and he looks me straight in the eye.
“What?” I back up as an uneasy feeling slithers through me.
Fitz hesitates, opening and closing his mouth a couple times like he doesn’t know if he should say what’s on his mind.
“I wanted to tell you that I really like Sawyer.”
I stagger backward as his words hit me like a sledgehammer.
Not that it’s news to me, but to hear him say it so matter-of-factly, directly into my face—it knocks the air out of my lungs and my diaphragm refuses to contract.
My heart feels like it’s in my throat, beating so rapidly I’m dizzy from the sudden rush of blood.
“I think Sawyer and I have something really special and I want to see where it goes.”
My vision goes a little fuzzy around the edges and the hallway tilts on an axis.
“I know you guys are best friends, and I’m not trying to replace you or come between the two of you. So I was hoping we could talk? Come to an understanding?”
I bump into something behind me—the wall. The contact jolts my diaphragm into action again and I suck in a huge breath of air. But the disproportionate influx of oxygen only throws my senses into further disarray.
“Preston? Are you okay?” Fitz comes toward me, hands outstretched. “Do you need help?”
I knock his hands away and manage to get around him without falling on my ass. I burst into the office and grab the first coat I see. Then I spin around and race away as fast as my legs can take me.
“Preston! Stop!”
I know better than to stop this time. I need to get out of here. I need to find Sawyer.
I don’t want him to have “something special” with Fitz. I don’t want him to have a relationship with Fitz at all. Happiness. Partnership. Love. I can give him those things. He should be getting it all from me. Sawyer’s mine. He’s mine, and I’m not letting anyone take him away.
I must black out for a time because I’m not entirely sure how I make it home. Before my brain has caught up with my body, I’m suddenly standing in front of our building. Except I don’t have my keys. Or my phone. The coat I’m wearing isn’t mine. Damn it.
I desperately scroll through the intercom system and buzz our apartment, leaning on the button until Sawyer unlocks the door for me. It doesn’t unlock. There’s no tinny voice asking who I am. Sawyer’s not home.
Shit. If Sawyer’s not home, then where is he?
The gym. It’s the afternoon. He’s probably working.
I take off at a run, not certain where I’m going. I’ve been to Mars Fitness before, but I don’t really pay attention to things like addresses. I know it’s not far from our place and I know it’s around the corner from a bar that Sawyer likes to go to.
I circle a couple blocks before I spot the lit-up sign, a crest with the name Mars Fitness in big block letters. I wrench the door open and stumble inside.
It’s loud in there, music pumping through invisible speakers, a blender whirring at full speed, the crash and clang of metal against metal, a chorus of shouts and grunts.
There are people everywhere, some in their coats, others in shorts and t-shirts or sweatpants and hoodies.
I’ve stepped into an alternate universe and I don’t know what to do.
“Preston!”
My head snaps toward the sound of my name, yelled in a familiar voice. Sawyer’s voice. He’s here. Somewhere. Where is he?
“Holy shit, Pres. What happened?” Sawyer materializes out of the chaos and I collapse into his arms.
Only then do I realize how fast my heart is beating, how much my legs are burning, and how difficult it is to breathe.
“Jesus Christ. Did you run here?” Sawyer half-guides and half-drags me past the people, past the front desk, and into a quiet, empty room. There are couches in it, a table with chairs, and a mini-kitchenette. He deposits me on a couch, then pops away to fetch me a bottle of water.
He twists off the lid and hands the bottle to me. “Here, drink this. I’ll be back in a second.”
I grab his wrist with a speed and strength that surprises even me. No, I just found him. I can’t lose him again.
He covers my hand with his and leans in so our heads are bowed together. “Shh, it’s okay. I just need to take care of a member. I’ll be right back, promise.”
I stare into his blue-green eyes. Eyes that have never lied to me. Eyes that have always given me exactly what I need. I force myself to loosen my grip and let Sawyer slip through my fingers.
It feels like hours, like days, like forever, but it’s probably only a few minutes before Sawyer’s back. He pulls a chair from the table and sets it in front of me to sit down.
Why is he sitting in the chair? Why isn’t he on the couch with me? Hugging me? Holding me?
“I couldn’t find you.” The words spill out of their own accord. “You weren’t at home.”
Sawyer’s elbows are braced on his knees, his feet planted wide, his hands clasped together. His brows are furrowed in concern. “It’s Thursday afternoon. I’m usually working on Thursday afternoons.”
“I forgot what day it is,” I admit.
“Preston, what happened? Fitz messaged me and said you ran out wearing someone else’s coat. You left your bag and your phone at school.”
Fitz. Fucking Fitz. It’s always fucking Fitz.
No, not anymore. I’m not letting Fitz steal Sawyer away. I can give Sawyer everything he wants, everything he deserves. He doesn’t need to find happiness or partnership or love anywhere else because he can get all of it from me and more.
I’m moving before I’ve consciously decided to do so. The open bottle of water slips from my hands and drops to the floor, spilling water everywhere. I reach for Sawyer, grabbing him with my hands on either side of his face. His cheeks are prickly under my palms.
I drag him to me, pulling him out of his chair, and smash my mouth onto his.