14. Sawyer
SAWYER
I stand against the wall to the entryway of my apartment for a few minutes, trying to replay everything that just happened. For the second time now, I’ve been rejected by Julian Everett. But he does it in a way that somehow still lets me know that he wants me in some capacity. It’s confusing as hell.
I’m not fucking you. And believe me, it’s not because I don’t want to.
What the fuck does that even mean? Is it because I’m too young? Too…vulnerable? Too…what? Available?
I run a hand down my face and force myself to take a cold shower before my brain creates every possible scenario and reason for him not taking me up on my offer.
* * *
The next morning, I’m up early for my shift at the mini-mart. I have a beat-up bike that I occasionally use to get around campus, but the cold air is welcome this morning after a long night of burning loins.
I’ve checked my phone approximately twenty-seven times since he dropped me off about eight hours ago, but I have yet to see his name light up my phone. And after rejection number two, the little bit of pride I have left is all that’s keeping me from texting him first. I round the last corner to the shop but stop dead in my tracks when I see the black Escalade parked right out front. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and keep walking, clearing my throat as I get closer to the car. The door opens, and I hold my breath but quickly blow it out when I see Tyler walking toward me.
“Morning, Sawyer,” he says with a tip of an imaginary hat.
“Morning,” I say with one eyebrow raised. He lifts something from behind his back, and I want to kick myself when I realize it’s my purse.
“Left this in the car last night,” he says. “Boss wanted me to get it to you.”
I smile faintly as I take it.
“Oh, Jesus,” I say, “thanks for bringing it back.”
Not only did I leave it in his car, but I wouldn’t have even realized it until Tyler showed up.
He must sense me looking past him, because he smiles faintly.
“Boss has lots of meetings today, but he wanted me to tell you to give me a ring if you need anything.”
I screw my face up.
“I’m fine, but thank you, Tyler. And if I don’t see you before, have a great Thanksgiving,” I tell him. He nods as I turn on my heel and walk into the store.
I put my stuff on the shelf under the counter, clip my name tag on, and log into the register computer.
The normal coffee grabbers will be in within the next few minutes, but I have some time to stew. Not only did he send Tyler to deliver my purse for me—which, I guess, I should be much more appreciative of—but then he also sent a message. One that felt like, “ Hey, don’t bug me. Use my hired help instead.”
Ick.
I know one thing is for certain: having my sexual advances rejected and then getting pushed off on his errand boy within a twenty-four-hour timespan doesn’t feel awesome.
Maybe he really does want me; maybe that was bullshit. But either way, he’s not getting shit. I work my shift, close up shop, and go home, and the only person I’ve texted all day is my mom. As I’m walking back down the street, I dial her.
“Hi, baby,” she says. “How was your shift?”
“It was fine,” I say. “It’s freezing now, though.”
“It sure is. It’s cold here too. How’s the new place? I still can’t believe he did that. I just can’t believe it. I texted him to?—”
“You texted him?” I ask, cutting her off.
“Yes, is that a problem? He gave my child a home. I thought it might be rude for me not to at least thank him.”
God dammit.
“He gave me his number before I flew back home. An incredible man, honestly. I know what people think about his family, and maybe it’s true, but him…wow.”
“He gave you his number?” I ask.
“Yes. He told me to feel free to check in, or if I ever had any problems getting a hold of you, or anything, to call him. He wanted me to know that someone was there for you on that side of the country.”
Stupid dick.
Stupid, sweet, compassionate dick.
“Is there a problem, Sawyer?” she asks. “Did something happen? I’ll cut him. What happened?”
I almost laugh at how quick she flips her switch when it involves me.
“No, Mom,” I say. “Nothing happened. I just didn’t know, that’s all.”
“Ah, okay,” she says. “Are you back to your apartment?”
“Walking up the steps right now,” I say, plugging the code into the front door.
“Good,” she says. “I still can’t believe it. I can’t wait to see it. I’m sad we won’t be together for Thanksgiving.”
“I know, Ma,” I say, holding the phone between my ear and my shoulder to unlock my door. “Me too. But I need to get a few more shifts in before the holidays. And I don’t want Jake to think I’m not coming back and fire me. I need this job.”
She sighs on the other end.
“I know, honey. I know. I just miss you, that’s all.”
“I miss you too, Mom,” I say. “I love you.”
“I love you, baby. Call me tomorrow.”
“I will. Bye,” I say, hanging up.
I turn on my shower after I throw my things down on the table and walk back into my bedroom. I peel off my clothes and head for the bathroom just as my phone dings on my bed. I freeze when I see his name.
I pick it up embarrassingly fast and slide it open.
Are you off yet?
I scoff. Why does he care? I debate not answering at all. I really shouldn’t. I should end this weird little thing we have. So, being the strong-willed woman I am, I wait all of thirty seconds to respond to him.
Just got home. I pause for a moment, biting my lip before adding, About to get in the shower.
I wait for a response, but nothing. I wait another twenty seconds. Nothing.
Fuck. I shouldn’t have answered. I throw my phone back on my bed and get in the shower.
I try to relax, take my time, wash the day off of me, but my body is racing through the motions of washing itself. My brain is saying, Who gives a shit? Let him wait . While my heart—and my vagina—are telling me to get back to that phone as fast as humanly possible.
I turn the water off, wrap a towel around me, and practically run out to my bedroom.
What are you doing tomorrow?
I swallow. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Why is he asking? There is no way Julian Everett doesn't have plans for Thanksgiving. I think about making something up so I don’t sound so pathetic. But then I remember he’s seen me at the most vulnerable I’ve ever been in my life. There’s really no use in hiding.
Sitting in my robe with a book. Why do you ask?
I’d like to take you somewhere. Pick you up at ten?
My heart rate starts to pick up. I really shouldn’t let him affect me like this.
Where?
Think of it as a little Thanksgiving surprise. Ten?
I sigh as I stare down at my phone, biting my lip. I tap my foot on the ground for a moment.
Fine. Ten.
That man is so confusing. So frustrating.
And so fucking delicious. And coincidentally, I’m already naked. So I hop into my browser, image search him, and lie back on my bed like I have way too many times since I met him.