Chapter Three
Blake
I PUT MY earbuds in, pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, and squeeze into the corner of the hallway, hoping none of my classmates will feel like asking questions until the professor arrives.
It took me a week and a half of hiding away in my room to realize I couldn’t avoid Sawyer forever.
Yep, that’s what it came down to—I was willing to sacrifice my education just to escape my intrusive thoughts.
Turns out, I can’t outrun myself, and memories of the two nights at Skin on Skin came crashing in waves, constantly and unforgivably, until I finally decided to bite the bullet and admit that I might be bisexual.
And I have absolutely no problem with that. What I do have a problem with is that my dick seems to respond to Sawyer in particular.
Why couldn’t it have been someone nice? Or, the hell with nice, someone neutral would do just fine. But no, it has to be the biggest jerk on the planet.
I inwardly sigh once I glimpse Xander walking in my direction. I pull the stupid hood off my head since it’s mostly him I was hiding from. It’s one thing to bullshit a random student, but lying to a friend is not exactly how I want my day to start.
“Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up,” he greets me once he reaches the end of the line leading to the still-closed classroom.
“Yeah. I’ve been… feeling kind of funny,” I mutter to the floor. Why do I lie? I’m not sure. He didn’t even ask.
My attention slips in and out of the conversation as Xander rambles about some random exam, and a few sentences in, I find myself scrutinizing his face.
I’ve never really seen him date anyone, but he’s objectively good-looking.
I’m sure chicks would line up if he as much as indicated he were looking for anything. So maybe….?
I swipe my gaze all over his perfectly decent body, and before I can formulate a hypothesis in my mind that maybe I could be attracted to him, my gag reflex kicks in, much like it did when that random dude walked up to me in the club.
Why, just why does it have to be Sawyer?
I startle when fingers snap an inch from my face. “You okay, dude?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Why?”
“You’ve been staring at me like a serial killer.”
Great. I avert my gaze and all I manage to mutter is, “Sorry,” before my breath hitches in my throat as I spot a figure approaching us from the other end of the hallway.
His hair is in disarray, and he hides his eyes behind dark shades, one hand in his pocket, the other on the strap of the backpack he carries on one shoulder, the usual black leather jacket in place.
My temperature spikes. I turn to Xander and start yapping about whatever, hoping that will discourage Sawyer from walking over. I’m not ready to face him and address… anything, really. And I’m sure as fuck not ready to do it in front of my friend.
But unfortunately, Xander is friends with pretty much everyone, and when he raises his hand and all but shouts, “Hey, Sawyer,” I wish for the floor to swallow me whole.
My pulse quickens, my mind blank, and I count his steps as he inevitably approaches us. By the time he’s mere feet away, my entire body tenses.
“Sup, bud?” Sawyer’s voice echoes in my brain as he shakes Xander’s hand. “How’s the football practice going?”
Did he—? Did he just ignore me?
I snap my eyes to Sawyer’s, which are still hidden behind his sunglasses. But he’s clearly facing Xander, who’s now telling him about his weekend.
Am I fucking invisible? After everything that went down, I don’t even get a Hello?
I open my mouth to ask something to that effect when commotion cuts me off as the professor enters the classroom and the student body follows suit.
It takes me a second to get my shit together, and as I scramble off the wall I’ve been leaning against, Xander is already on the move and I’m shoulder-to-shoulder with Sawyer.
And then, the motherfucker adjusts his backpack, hitting me with it in the process, and walks away without as much as a glance in my direction.
My blood boils and the tips of my ears burn. That fucking asshole!
Fuming, I make my way inside, flop on my usual chair, cross my arms over my chest, and spend the entire lecture burning a hole in the back of Sawyer’s head a few rows in front of me.
And he doesn’t look back once.
By the time the professor wraps up the lecture, the subject of which didn’t even register with me—yay for coming back to classes—I’m ready to commit a crime.
As everyone starts to leave, I make sure Xander isn’t within earshot, make the short walk over to where Sawyer is packing up his books, and slam my notebook on his desk.
He makes a theatric of slowly lifting his gaze until our eyes meet. “May I help you?”
I swear I had a plan.
I’ve spent the whole lecture preparing a scenario of me telling him off, but the second I confront him, my brain’s rendered useless.
“I— I just wanted to— Look, I need your part of the assignment by Friday,” I mumble the first thing that pops into my head, grateful I came up with any words at all.
Sawyer’s expression grows dark, and he tenses visibly. “It’s not due for another three weeks.”
“Yeah, well. I need to review it and inevitably fix it before we turn it in. Some of us care for our grades,” I say in a single breath.
He stares me dead in the eye for about five seconds, during which my heart manages to beat a million times, before he spits out, “Fine,” through his teeth, shoulders his backpack and, for the second time today, walks away.
I rush behind him. Why the hell is he walking so fast?
“Sawyer,” I call out. He keeps walking, so I speed up to catch up with him. “Sawyer!”
“What?” Sawyer barks, stopping abruptly, almost making me bump into him. “Seriously, what do you want from me?”
Honestly, I’m not sure myself. “I want to talk.”
“What about?”
Is he kidding? “You know damn well what about, Sawyer.”
“Frankly, I don’t, but have at it,” he says and continues walking. I follow.
“Why do you always have to be such a dick?”
“Why do you care?”
Good question. “I don’t. I…” I take a deep breath. “Can’t you see this is kind of a big deal for me?”
“Were you expecting a ring? Sorry if I mislead you.”
I launch forward and stop in front of Sawyer, causing him to halt. “I was expecting a fucking ‘good morning.’”
Sawyer sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets.
I’m ready to give up when he says, “Good morning,” his voice surprisingly soft.
“I didn’t mean to blow you off.” I cross my arms over my chest and lift a brow.
Sawyer rolls his eyes. “Okay, I did mean to blow you off. That was shitty of me. But as you’ve already noticed, I’m a shitty person. ”
He walks away and then turns around and asks, “Coming?”
And once again, I find myself following.
We walk through the college hallway, mute. But somehow, the silence isn’t awkward until we step outside the building into the parking lot.
“Where are we going?”
“You look like you need to clear your head.”
Condescending, as always.
We stop in front of a sketchy-looking motorcycle, and Sawyer pulls out two helmets from the trunk before handing one to me. I look at the helmet, the motorcycle, and the helmet again. “There’s no way I’m getting on that thing with you.”
Sawyer puts on his helmet and lifts the screen before shrugging. “Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t offer.”
He moves to put the other helmet away. I slam my hand over the trunk, closing it, and against my better judgment, I snatch it from his hand.
I fumble to put it on, Sawyer watching me with amusement.
I shiver when he reaches out and touches something around my neck to adjust it.
Once he decides I’m ready, he straddles the bike before turning to me. “I don’t have all day.”
I say a little prayer to whatever god’s responsible for looking over idiots jumping on motorcycles with irresponsible assholes. I sit behind him.
What the fuck should I do with my hands?
Reluctantly, I grab the sides of Sawyer’s leather jacket, hoping that’ll do. Hoping that’s not too intimate.
Sawyer looks over his shoulder. “Do you have a death wish?”
He doesn’t leave me time to figure out what he means by that, grabbing my hands and wrapping them tight around his waist.
He puts down both of our screens.
“Don’t drive too fast,” I say before I realize my words are now lost in the helmet.
The engine roars. The second the bike moves, the momentum pulls me back, so I tighten my grip around Sawyer’s middle. The moment we’re on the main street, I know it was a terrible idea.
Sawyer is slaloming between cars. At the intersection, he treats the traffic lights like a suggestion he’s free to ignore.
Finally, the bike slows, although it couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes' drive, and Sawyer parks in front of a tall, abandoned-looking building.
He dismounts gracefully while I stumble and almost fall over, my legs weak and trembling as I struggle to take the helmet off.
“I’m never getting on that thing again,” I say the second my head is free
Sawyer arches a brow as he takes it from me. “We’ll see about that.”
Once he puts the helmets away and secures the bike, he marches toward the abandoned building.
I guess we’re going, then.
I take a few long strides to catch up. I’ll be damned if I end up following him around all day. “Seriously, where are we going?” I ask once we enter through the unlocked door to the lobby-ish-looking area. I can safely say the building hasn’t seen life in years.
“Seriously, you need to chill for once. That neurosis can’t be good for your health.”
I huff and don’t say another word as we climb the stairs, floor after floor, wondering what I’m even doing, following Sawyer through shady corridors to some unknown location, all the while tolerating him being an utter dick.