Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Sawyer
Hosting my friends is always a mistake. I remember this every single time I do it, yet somehow, I keep doing it anyway.
Tonight is proving the point.
I’m arranging the charcuterie board when Kayla walks into the kitchen. She stops immediately when she sees the counter filled with wine bottles, cheese, and olives.
Her eyes narrow slightly. “You’re entertaining.”
“Yes.”
“That explains the olives.”
“They’re not just olives.”
“They look like olives.”
“Imported olives.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course they are.”
Kayla leans against the island, eyeing the spread like she’s evaluating a restaurant menu.
“My friends are coming over,” I tell her.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
She considers that. “So, this is a couples thing.”
“Mostly.”
“And I’m”—she gestures vaguely toward herself— “what exactly?”
“Living here,” I respond.
She huffs. “That’s not a role.”
“You’re welcome to stay.”
“Or?”
“You can disappear if you prefer.”
Her eyes drift back to the cheese board. “Is that Brie?”
“Yes.”
“I’m staying.”
I almost smile.
The elevator opens a few minutes later.
Melissa steps out first, and Kayla visibly relaxes. Kayla crosses the room and hugs her.
“How’s penthouse life?” Melissa asks.
“Temporarily overwhelming.”
Colton walks out behind her. “Well, look who it is,” he says, spotting Kayla immediately. “Sawyer’s mystery woman.”
Kayla groans. “Oh my God, that article is still a thing?”
“Group chat refuses to let it die.”
Of course it does.
I pour another glass of wine. “Please stop encouraging them.”
The elevator opens again.
This time, Lincoln and Kylie step out.
Lincoln glances between Kayla and me. “Well,” he says calmly, “this is interesting.”
Roman and Eva arrive next.
Roman grins immediately. “The legend returns.”
Kayla laughs. “Please don’t start.”
Walker and Jessie are last.
Walker claps a hand on my shoulder. “Living together already, huh?”
“We are not living together,” Kayla says.
“Temporary housing situation,” I add.
Colton raises his glass. “That’s not what the internet says.”
Melissa laughs. “Oh my God, you people are relentless.”
Lincoln gestures toward Kayla. “To be fair,” he says, “she did warn him he wasn’t hero material.”
Kayla presses her hand over her face. “That was one time.”
Walker nods. “And it was the best thing anyone’s ever said to him.”
I take a slow breath. “This is exactly why I don’t host often.”
Roman takes a drink.
“Oh, no,” he says. “You should host more.”
Jessie smiles at Kayla. “Welcome to the chaos.”
Kayla laughs softly.
Melissa leans toward her. “They’ve been waiting for this.”
“For what?” Kayla asks.
“For someone who doesn’t treat Sawyer like he’s intimidating.”
Kayla glances across the room at me. I’m watching the whole conversation unfold from the bar near the kitchen when her eyes meet mine.
Instead of looking away, like most people do … she smiles. Which is exactly the problem because my friends notice everything.
Roman follows her gaze across the room, then looks back at me and grins.
This is going to be a long night.
Melissa hooks her arm through Kayla’s. “Come on,” she says. “Help me in the kitchen.”
Kayla looks confused. “We’re already in the kitchen.”
Melissa waves a hand toward the far counter. “You can still help.”
Kayla laughs and lets herself get pulled across the room. The other women follow automatically. Kylie grabs another bottle of wine while Eva picks up a cutting board. Jessie disappears toward the fridge.
Within seconds, the kitchen has turned into something else entirely. Smaller conversations with different energy.
I lean against the bar and take a drink.
Colton walks over beside me. “You’re staring.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m looking at my kitchen.”
Colton glances toward the group of women before he looks back at me. “You’re looking at Kayla.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay.” He says it in the exact tone people use when they absolutely do not believe you.
Across the room, Kayla is laughing at something Jessie just said. Her head tips back slightly while her ponytail slips over one shoulder. I realize I’ve been watching her for at least ten seconds. I look away.
Walker smirks. “This is fascinating.”
“Stop talking.”
“You’re tracking her,” Roman says.
“I’m not tracking anyone.”
“You’ve looked at her twelve times in the last two minutes,” Roman replies calmly.
“I doubt you counted.”
Roman lifts his glass. “I absolutely counted.”
Colton laughs. “Wow.”
“This is new,” Walker adds.
I take another drink. “None of you have anything better to do?”
“No,” Roman says.
“Not tonight,” Colton agrees.
I glance toward the kitchen again purely out of habit. Kayla is leaning against the counter now, talking to Melissa while she pours wine into another glass. She gestures with her hands while she talks so animatedly.
Most people are slightly cautious around my friends.
The wealth alone tends to make people careful. Kayla, however, seems unaffected. She says something that makes the entire group laugh, and I find myself wondering what it was.
“Still staring,” Walker says.
I drag my attention back to the room. “I wasn’t staring.”
Roman gestures toward the women. “She’s interesting.”
“She’s Melissa’s friend.”
“That’s not what we’re talking about.”
Colton leans against a chair at a high-top table to the left of my bar. “You like her.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t even know her.”
Walker grins. “That hasn’t stopped you before.”
“That’s different.”
Roman tilts his head slightly. “How?”
I don’t answer. I’ve dated plenty of women. But I’ve never spent this much time noticing someone’s movements across a room.
Kayla picks up her glass of wine and turns slightly before she catches me looking at her.
For a moment, neither of us looks away—and then she smiles. It’s a small, knowing smile.
She turns back to the conversation.
Roman exhales slowly beside me. “Oh, yeah, this is definitely happening.”
I finish my drink.
Walker raises an eyebrow. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Before I can respond, Kayla suddenly appears beside the bar.
“Okay,” she says while everyone looks at her. “I have a solution to this party.”
Walker lifts his glass. “That sounds dangerous.”
“It’s not dangerous,” she says. “It’s fun.”
Roman looks suspicious. “Those are not the same thing.”
Kayla ignores him. “I’m getting something.”
Before anyone can stop her, she disappears down the hallway.
Walker looks at me. “You’re letting this happen?”
“I don’t know what this is yet.”
“That’s never stopped you from stopping things before.”
Colton laughs. “Let it play out.”
Thirty seconds later, Kayla returns, holding a dry erase board, a handful of markers, and her phone.
Roman immediately groans. “Oh no.”
“What?” she says.
“Whatever this is, I already hate it.”
“It’s Pictionary.”
Walker straightens in his chair. “Absolutely not.”
“It’ll be fun.”
“It will not,” Roman replies.
“Yes, it will.”
Kayla drops the board on the coffee table. “We’re doing boys versus girls.”
Roman shakes his head. “I refuse.”
Kylie takes the marker from Kayla’s hand. “I’m in.”
Eva nods. “Same.”
Jessie moves in the direction of the couch. “This is happening.”
Melissa looks at Colton. “You’re losing.”
Colton points at the board. “All right, let’s do this.”
Roman sighs heavily. “I hate all of you.”
Five minutes later, the living room is chaos. Lincoln is standing in front of the board, trying to draw something that looks vaguely like a half circle with blocks on it.
“What is that?” Eva shouts.
“It’s obvious!” screams Lincoln as he draws.
“It’s not obvious!” Eva screams back.
Roman squints. “Is it a turtle?”
“No!”
“Why does the turtle have half a body?” Jessie asks.
“It’s not a turtle!” Lincoln shouts. “Ladies, stop interrupting!”
Kayla is doubled over laughing on the couch. “Oh my God, Lincoln, that is the worst drawing I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, a tennis racket!” Walker shouts just as the timer sounds.
“It’s an igloo!” Lincoln gestures angrily at his drawing.
Roman stares at the board. “Why does the igloo have a head?”
“It’s the entrance!”
“Yes!” Kylie says. “We win that round!”
Lincoln throws the marker down. “That was sabotage.”
“You need to learn how to draw,” Eva says.
Roman leans back on the couch. “I stand by my turtle theory.”
Across the room, Kayla is laughing so hard that she’s wiping tears from her eyes. Her hair has fallen out of the ponytail now, and her cheeks are flushed. She looks … like she belongs here.
Which is strange because this group usually doesn’t do things like this.
We drink and talk. We argue about business or sports. Games like this would normally get shut down in thirty seconds. Yet somehow, the entire room is yelling over each other.
Jessie is arguing with Roman. Lincoln is demanding a rematch. Kylie is grabbing the marker for the next round. And Kayla is standing in the middle of the room, directing the entire thing like she runs the place.
I take a drink and watch it unfold.
Colton walks over beside me. “You’re smiling.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Across the room, Kayla claps her hands. “Okay, next round!”
Lincoln groans. “This is torture.”
“You’re just bad at drawing,” Kayla says.
“I run companies.”
“You draw turtles,” Eva chimes in.
The room erupts into laughter again.
Colton leans closer. “You know what the problem is?”
“What?”
“You like her.”
“That’s not the problem.”
“It is tonight.”
I glance across the room again. Kayla is arguing with Walker now about the rules. Completely unbothered and in control of the chaos she created.
And for some reason … the night is better because of it. That realization settles somewhere in the back of my mind because the truth is simple. If anyone else in this room had suggested playing a game tonight, they would have been laughed out of the penthouse.
But somehow, Kayla made it the most entertaining part of the evening, and I’m not entirely sure how she did it.The game eventually dissolves into the kind of disarray that only happens when my friends stay too long and drink too much wine.
At some point, Roman seconds Lincoln demand of a rematch, but Walker refuses. Jessie declares the girls undefeated champions, and Melissa decides everyone should leave before the men start arguing about the rules again.
Within twenty minutes, the penthouse is quiet again. The elevator doors close behind the last of them. I walk back into the kitchen to see the aftermath of the evening spread across the counter.
There are empty glasses, half a cheese board, and markers from the game scattered near the island.
Kayla is already there, stacking plates like she lives here.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say.
She glances over her shoulder. “Relax. I helped make the mess.”
“You didn’t.”
“I absolutely did. I’m responsible for the game.”
“That’s true.”
She rinses a glass and sets it in the sink. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For saving your party.”
I lean against the counter. “My party was fine.”
She turns and raises an eyebrow. “Sawyer.”
“Yes?”
“If I hadn’t brought out that game, you and your billionaire friends would still be standing around, discussing investment strategies.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true.”
She reaches for another glass. “You’re just mad because the girls destroyed you.”
“We did not get destroyed.”
“You drew a potato for a dog.”
“That was a structural interpretation.”
She laughs, and the sound fills the kitchen. For some reason, that irritates me.
Not because she’s wrong, but because she’s entirely too comfortable teasing me.
She dries her hands on a towel and leans against the island. “You know what your problem is?”
“What.”
“You take yourself way too seriously.”
I push away from the counter. “Do I?”
“Yes.”
She gestures toward the living room. “You were hosting a perfectly respectable, mildly boring, gathering of wealthy men.”
“That’s called adulthood.”
“And then I introduced an alternative not so dull.”
“You introduced markers.”
“I introduced fun.”
She smiles like she knows she’s winning the argument, which is exactly the problem.
“So, tell me,” she says.
“What?”
“Did you hate the game?”
I hesitate as I decide whether I should tell the truth before finally exhaling. “No.”
Her smile widens slightly. “See?”
I take a step toward her. “You’re very confident about that.”
“I’m observant.”
Another step. “You’re assuming things.”
“I’m right,” she says, but I can see her eyes widen as she watches me closely.
Another step. She doesn’t move, which is interesting. Most people would have stepped away by now.
Kayla just tilts her head slightly as she studies me, like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do.
“So, what happens now?” she asks lightly.
She’s close enough now that I can see the small freckles across her nose. I notice the way her hair has started falling out of whatever attempt she made at a ponytail earlier.
The room feels suddenly smaller.
I rest one hand against the counter beside her. “You’re not intimidated at all, are you?”
“No,” she answers, though I think I catch the slight tremor in her voice.
“Most people are.”
She shrugs. “Most people don’t tell you the truth.”
“And you do.”
“Yes,” she whispers.
I thought I would make her nervous by closing the distance. That I would have the upper hand.
Instead, it makes something else happen entirely. Because suddenly, I’m very aware of how close we’re standing. And the fact that if I leaned forward—
I stop the thought immediately, then step back.
Kayla blinks slightly, like she recognized the shift, but she doesn’t say anything.
Good.
Because neither do I.
I grab two glasses from the counter and turn toward the sink to deposit them, leaving the dishes for the morning. “Good night, Kayla.”
She studies me for a second before she smiles slightly. “Good night, Sawyer.”
I leave the kitchen before I can change my mind about anything that just happened.