Chapter 8
SAWYER
The next day, when I walk into Jolly Jalapeno, I scan the place for my friends. I nearly talked myself out of coming, Will’s warning echoing in my mind.
It doesn’t help that I found myself wandering down the Blue Hall and stopping at Brie’s classroom no fewer than eight times today.
On my last visit, her eyes met mine. She smiled at the class, gave them a quick task, and stepped out into the hallway.
Through gritted teeth, she said, “If you’re going to micromanage me, do it already. You popping up every forty minutes is disruptive.”
I nearly cracked a molar as I walked away. I didn’t return for the rest of the day, which I take as a win. Even if the final bell rang fifteen minutes later.
Still, I already told Ethan and Rich I’d meet them, so here I am.
Jolly Jalapeno is a Korean-Mexican restaurant that’s only a few years old, but it feels like it’s been the heart of this town forever. Each weeknight features a different draw for the crowds, and it has a particular ambiance that would be tacky anywhere else.
A long, sunburnt orange bar takes up the back wall facing the front door. To my right is a short narrow stage beneath the large front window. All the rest of the available wall space is adorned with traditional Korean artwork and lined by booths.
The open space in the center is inelegantly furnished with mismatched plastic card tables and folding chairs, which were supposed to be temporary, but when the regulars got wind of the change there was small-town mayhem.
People, apparently, love how easily they can be rearranged or moved out of the way.
So there they remain in their cheap plastic glory.
Colorful paper picado banners flutter from the ceiling, and string lights glow softly overhead, casting the acrylic cactus on the corner of the stage in a golden hue.
It’s cheesy and perfect for this town.
The guys are late as usual. I roll up the sleeves of my flannel shirt, take a seat at the bar, order a beer, and question my life up til now.
Fourteen years of being a functional, normal person.
Then Brie Casey comes stumbling back to Blue Ridge, and I’m reduced to the same instincts I had when we were kids.
A firm hand cuffs my shoulder.
“Che ajab!”
“You cursing at me in Farsi again?” I ask Ethan. He looks like he just left a GQ photoshoot in slacks and a button-down.
He feigns offense as he takes a seat on my left. “I would never. Just saying it’s a nice change to meet you out. I’m tired of Shane and James,” he says, referring to his other two best friends.
“You texting Ethan and me wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain someone being back in town, would it?” Rich takes the stool on my right.
I take it back, Rich looks like he came out of a GQ photoshoot in his expensive tailored suit.
My hand stops halfway to reaching for my beer. I want to ask how Rich of all people knows about Brie, but instead I tip my head up at the speakers where 90s grunge blares mournfully. “I came for the nostalgia.”
“I hear Brie’s working at the school,” Ethan says. “Did she know you were the principal when she agreed to that?”
“How long are you in town?” I ask Rich, ignoring the question.
He rubs his hands together and grins over at Ethan. “No way she knew Sawyer’d be her boss.”
Since when is everyone obsessed with Brie?
Sighing, I say, “She didn’t know. The district does all the hires, even subs, so we were both surprised.” Leave it to Blue Ridge to run schools differently than literally anywhere else.
Ethan’s smile falters. “And when she found out?”
I take a sip of my beer. “She called me Principal Strong.”
Rich grins. “Ice cold.” He tilts his head at something past me and Ethan. “Dev’s here.”
I turn to look, and my pulse kicks up a notch when I spot him. That’s confirmation enough Brie’s on her way.
This was a bad idea.
Dev Shah was the only person Brie might have called a friend. She ate lunch with him, took the same electives as he did. I hardly ever saw one of them around town without the other.
The worst part is, Dev was a really nice guy. Even on the occasions he’d push his way between us like her knight, I knew it.
And he’s got one hell of a beard. I rub my own clean-shaven jaw, wondering why I listened to Will.
“Aaaand there she is,” Rich says.
My body tenses instinctively.
I turn just in time to see Brie step into the restaurant, a look of uncertainty as she scans the booths. When she finally spots Dev at the far end of the bar, her face lights up.
I grimace.
He waves, and she runs to him, jumping into his open arms. He catches her, swinging her side to side as they hug.
Dev whispers something in her ear. They’re too far away, and the bar’s too loud, but I put every ounce of futile effort into hearing what they say.
Is Brie here for Dev? Have they been together all this time, long distance?
Nah. I would’ve heard. Right?
Rich whistles. “Not as bad as I expected.”
Ethan shrugs, “Abbi and I were looking back at our yearbooks the other day. Brie was really pretty. How come we never noticed?”
Right. We.
“Don’t pop your jaw,” Rich says cheerfully, slapping me on the back.
“Thanks,” I grit out.
Dev rubs Brie’s back beneath her jacket.
Rich lowers his voice. “I don’t think she’s noticed we’re here yet.” He nudges me. “What’re you gonna say to her?”
Ethan’s tone is grave. “Don’t you think we’re too old for this shit? Time to leave her alone? I mean, hell, you’re her boss now.”
I hardly hear him, eyes still fixed on the longest hug in history. Dev arches his back, taking her with him so that her feet dangle. Her giggle travels across the bar.
“Yeah, but they’re not at work,” Rich points out. “Besides, who’s gonna believe her over Sawyer?”
“Woah there,” Ethan says, peeling my fingers off the glass I’ve been clutching. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him watching me, head tilted. “Ho-ly shit.”
“What,” I say, about ready to combust.
“Dev needs to take her to his car if he’s going to keep that up,” Rich says.
Ethan’s gaze is still heavy on me as he tells Rich, “Dude, you’re gonna want to shut your mouth.”
“What?” Rich asks. “It’s just Brie Queso.”
Ethan shakes his head as he reaches for his beer. “Fine, but when Sawyer clocks you one, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Why would he?” Rich asks.
“You’re an idiot,” Ethan says. “No. We’ve both been idiots.”
Finally, the hug ends and I tear my gaze away from the scene. “What are you two going on about?”
Rich shows me his palms. “Don’t look at me, I’m as lost as you are.”
Ethan says, “How long have you had a thing for Brie?”
I roll my eyes. “You’re projecting, man. You’ve had hearts in your eyes since you and Abbi got together.”
“Uh-uh,” Ethan insists. “There’s something there.”
Rich looks between us. “Seriously? You’ve got a hard-on for Brie Queso?”
My teeth grind, wishing they’d both stop talking.
“Have some respect,” Ethan says to Rich.
“He should have some self-respect,” Rich bites back.
“This was a bad idea.” I shove my drink away and move to stand.
Ethan puts his hand on my shoulder, keeping me in my seat. “We’re sorry.” He looks pointedly at Rich.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Rich looks anything but.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Ethan says. “You’re right, I’m happy as hell and probably projecting. Don’t go, stay and hang out.”
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “I’ll finish my beer.”
Before I can stop myself, my eyes find her again just as Dev offers her a shot of something honey-colored. They clink glasses. Her wet tongue darts out from between her lips to lap at the salt on the back of her hand.
“So, how long have you wanted to get in her pants?” Rich asks, grinning.
I shoot him a sharp look. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
How he hasn’t grown an ounce since high school, I don’t know. The man is literally one of the most important tech geniuses in the country—so much so that I don’t know how he has the time to be here right now—but he has the emotional intelligence of a toddler.
Ethan says, “Dude, if you don’t behave yourself, we’re not letting you out anymore.”
Rich frowns, but zips his lips, and Ethan changes the subject to some consulting he’s doing for Rich’s company.
My gaze flicks back to Brie. Her hand flattens against Dev’s chest and stays there while she says something that, apparently, requires him to lean in. I count to twelve before they break apart.
“Dude, you look like a lovesick puppy,” Rich snorts.
Ethan leans behind me and smacks him on the head.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Ethan says patiently, “but let me remind you that Abbi and I also have a storied past. She thought I was a player.”
Rich shakes his head like he’s clearing it before turning to Ethan. “Abbi always liked you. You were forbidden fruit, her best friends’ older brother. Besides, Abbi was always chill. Brie is nauseating. And even if she weren’t, she hates Sawyer. Always has.”
I raise my eyes to the ceiling, willing it to collapse in on us.
“There’s a fine line between love and hate,” Ethan replies. “Both get the heart pumping the same.”
“But Brie seriously hates Sawyer.”
My gaze automatically moves past Ethan again.
She isn’t there. I turn to look behind me. Brie and Dev are nowhere to be seen.
Thank fucking god and good riddance, I think as I will my pulse to calm down.
“You okay, man?” Rich asks.
“Just tired of hearing about Brie Casey.” I drain the rest of my beer and stand up.
“You aren’t leaving,” he says. “I flew out from Silicon Valley for this.”
It’s like a punch to the gut, and I slump back on my stool. “Seriously?”
He tilts his head side to side. “Well, I might have had a meeting with Layla this morning.”
Layla, Ethan’s little sister, has a cybersecurity business. The same one Mara, Brie’s little sister, works for.
And that explains how Rich knew about Brie.
“But I stayed ‘cause of you,” Rich hastens to add.
I shake my head. He might be a jackass on the surface, but the man’s loyal.
“Let him go,” Ethan says to Rich. “Dude needs some time alone with his feelings.”
I shoot Ethan a dirty look. He’s turning into a bigger jackass than Rich.
“Alright, alright,” Rich says. “I’ll be back in a few weeks for another meeting.” He points a stern finger at me. “And you better come out when I’m here.”
I stand again, grateful to get out of here, and not sure why I came in the first place. “We’ll do this for real when you’re back in town.”
We say our goodbyes, and I head toward the hallway that leads to the back entrance. When I round the corner, someone small barrels into me. I catch her by the hips, steadying her.
The faint smell of pear and citrus runs an electric shock through me.
I know that smell, know who it belongs to before my brain can process.
“You!” Brie says, looking furiously up at me.
Her hands press against my chest. For a moment I think she’ll shove me, push me against the wall. Make me atone for my sins.
But she doesn’t.
Before I can say something stupid, I let go of her hips and step back, breaking all contact. “I was just leaving.”
Her jaw is set. “I don’t have to talk to you.” The anger in her voice is offset by the slight slur.
How many shots did she have?
“No, you don’t,” I agree.
She looks so much like she used to. Same full lips and high cheekbones. But her wavy brown hair is shorter, just brushing her shoulders. And her big brown eyes are different too. Furtive innocence replaced with fire and vinegar.
She looks like she wants a fight, and I’d happily be her punching bag.
Come at me, I silently dare.
As if hearing my thoughts, her chin tilts up, eyes blazing threateningly. “I don’t have to answer any of your questions either.”
For the first time all day, I want to laugh. “I didn’t ask any.” But I’ve got plenty.
“Because we’re not in school,” she continues, emphasizing each word with a sharp pointer finger to my sternum.
I shove my hands in my pockets. “But in school you’ll be polite and professional,” I echo her words from the parking lot.
My tone isn’t meant to come out teasing, but I know it does when she makes the same face from yesterday afternoon, baring her teeth and narrowing her eyes.
It’s cute.
“We’re not in school now,” she repeats.
She takes another minuscule step toward me, and my blood pressure rises. I want to tell her to stay back, that she’s playing a dangerous game.
“So I don’t have to be either of those things,” she adds as she takes another step.
My body moves of its own accord, spinning us around, crowding her in the hallway, taunting her with our size difference.
“Fuck polite and professional,” I say before I can choke back the words. “Those standards shouldn’t apply to you.”
Her mouth falls open as she stares up at me, like she’s doing complicated math. Her chest rises and falls in a heavy rhythm. The pink in her cheeks is slight, probably from the drinks she’s had.
But I want to turn her cheeks crimson.
Wait. My brain replays everything up to the present moment, finally catching up.
What the hell did I just say?
And to a substitute at my school.
To Brie.
I shut my eyes from the sight of her. She’s always been able to burrow her way under my skin, infecting me like a bad rash, itching until I have no choice but to scratch.
But we aren’t kids anymore.
For the first time, I realize how fucked up it is on a professional level that I’m even here, talking to her this way. She wants nothing to do with me, and I’m her boss.
She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off.
“Goodnight,” I say, and shove through the back exit.