Chapter 16 #2
The last time I saw Ethan Darvish, he was in a tux standing behind Sawyer, laughing at me with the whole school. He’d never been as cruel as Rich, but he’d still been their accomplice. And yet, looking at him now, with his open smile and kind words, he seems like a completely different person.
Maybe he is.
I glance up at Sawyer, who nods at Ethan conspiratorially.
Or maybe he isn’t. It’s a tiny pinprick to my heart, deflating it.
“Margarita okay with you, Brie?” Ethan asks, relieving a frizzy-haired server of a pitcher. “I already ordered a bunch of food.”
“Sure,” I say, trying to smile.
You’re just being paranoid. We’re adults now. Not everyone is out to get me. Maybe Ethan really has grown. And if Ethan’s grown, maybe—
“Brie Queso!”
I wince, then raise my eyes to Richard B. Whitmore III. The most successful person I’ve ever been near.
Also, the biggest ass.
Maybe I’m in an episode of American Horror Story instead.
“Dude!” Rich’s elated eyes travel between Sawyer and me before he claps him on the back. “You did it, man!”
Oh god. What did Sawyer do?
Am I part of some kind of bet? Am I the butt of some joke? Again? Is this why Ethan wasn’t surprised to see me here?
I haven’t felt this particular fight or flight response in years. I thought I felt it when I spotted Sawyer in his office that first day, but it wasn’t this. Blood gushes in my ears, my heart beating like a hummingbird’s.
“Rich,” Sawyer grits out, eyes hard. “You remember Brie Casey. She’ll be joining us with a friend.”
Tess. I glance at the door, then the time. She’s only a few minutes late, but the adrenaline already coursing through my system ramps up.
“I might not be staying,” I say to my hands.
Understatement of the century. The second Tess gets here, we’re leaving. We’ll go to The Square for burgers, or grab a pizza from Angelica’s and eat it in my car if we have to.
Ignoring me, Rich snorts, “What friend? Dev?”
The way he says his name, with casual derision, has my fingernails digging into my thighs.
“A friend from work,” Sawyer says evenly, like he’s speaking to one of the kindergarteners.
Rich snorts. “Didn’t know Brie Queso had other friends.”
His taunts are disturbingly familiar. Rich certainly hasn’t grown in fourteen years.
And Sawyer still hangs out with him.
“Rich.” Sawyer’s voice is low and patient, but dripping with severity.
As an adult who’s lived in the real world, away from Blue Ridge, I would view what’s happening here as some idiot (Rich) who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, and a nice guy (Sawyer) who’s putting him in his place.
But as the person who grew up here, around these exact men when they used to torment me, my paranoia only rises. Rich was never sly like Sawyer, always openly derisive. But they were always on the same page with one another. My body is tense, bracing for the inevitable.
Ethan changes the subject. “How was your meeting, Richard?”
“Productive,” Rich answers carelessly, wedging his chair between Ethan and me. He turns, crowding me. “I hear you’re a substitute teacher.” Somehow he makes my job sound dirty.
I force myself to meet his eyes. There’s nothing there, not even the malice I expect. Just a wall. “Yup.”
His eyes may be blank, but his grin is like the devil’s. “You’re chatty.”
The same server drops off some chips and appetizers.
Sawyer reaches for the leg of my chair and drags me toward him until it’s flush against his.
Our thighs touch. His shoulders are so broad he has no choice but to extend his arm over the back of my chair.
I look up at him, but he’s staring at Rich, jaw clenched.
The muscles in his neck protrude. And I get a whiff of—
I'm transported back in time and even though it shouldn't, my heart pounds a little faster.
“Do you still swim?” The quiet words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
He looks down at me, surprised. “Most mornings, after I work out.” His voice is low, for me only. “Why?”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Chlorine.”
I swear the pulse in his throat stutters, but he presses his mouth into a straight line and nods once before returning his gaze to Rich.
“So where’re you staying?” Rich asks me before crunching loudly into a chip.
My eyes cut to his. “Emerson Avenue.”
He whistles, brows raised. “You shackin’ up with some—”
Sawyer is on his feet, finger in Rich’s face. “That’s enough.” People in nearby seats nudge one another, and I consider crawling under the island of tables.
I hate that Rich’s words hit their mark, but they’re the perfect imitation of what I heard at Everett Academy, pressing on a bruise that hasn’t healed yet. Somehow, the worst of both my worlds have melded. Trash, meet slut.
Rich looks at Sawyer. “Seriously? She’s been back in town for, like, a second. I’ve been by your side for years, and you treat me like this?”
In answer, Sawyer falls into his chair, arm snaking over my shoulders, lighting my skin on fire beneath my clothes.
Rich scoffs. “Dude. It’s Brie Ques—”
“Nope.” Ethan grabs the collar of Rich’s neatly pressed button-down, ignoring his protests, and drags him toward the back hallway where the bathrooms are.
Sawyer’s arm drops from my shoulders, and I’m suddenly cold even as I try to process what just happened.
“Listen,” he says, “I’m sorry. Rich has no sense.
No empathy. He’s a complete nitwit. If he crosses the line again, I will personally evict him.
” He licks his lips, and I can’t help tracking the movement.
“But if you want to leave right now, I get it. I’ll order some tacos to go and bring them to you. You won’t have to see him again.”
My heart beats slow and heavy in my chest. I should take him up on his offer. Leave right now. I know I should.
So why don’t I?
Sawyer’s thigh brushes mine. That unique-to-him smell wraps around me. I watch the fist in his lap grow tighter with every passing second.
Then I remember something Rich said.
“What did he mean when he said ‘you did it’?”
Sawyer’s throat works on a nervous swallow. He leans over for two of the glasses Ethan poured ages ago, and I wonder if he’ll answer.
“Came out to Tursdays,” he says dismissively, handing me a marg without meeting my eyes.
I’m sure he’s hiding something, but I don’t push him.
What’s the point? He’ll never confess to it.
But it’s all the evidence I need that he’s not the good guy he’s been pretending to be.
There’s a comfort to Rich’s open loathing.
With him, I know where he stands. But Sawyer’s made a fool of me too many times to fall for his act again.
“Fifteen minutes to trivia time!” the emcee announces, and the bar erupts in cheers and jeers, piercing my thoughts.
“We’ve been here for half an hour?” I ask, alarmed.
My eyes flick to the door. Then the time. Worry pulses dully in the back of my mind. Tess doesn’t strike me as a flake. But people are different outside of work. Maybe she is the type to run perpetually thirty minutes behind in her social life.
No. Instinctively, I know that’s not her.
I shoot her a quick text letting her know I’m here. I stare at my phone for a few seconds, waiting for the three dots to show up.
“She’s a big girl,” Sawyer says coolly. “She’s probably just looking for parking.”
I relax a little. Parking was a nightmare, and has probably only gotten worse.
When Ethan’s back with a chastened Rich, and another ten minutes passes, I still haven’t heard from her. Even the Korean fried cauliflower taco that Sawyer practically shoved at me, and subsequently had me black out in ecstasy, isn’t enough to assuage my worries.
It’s this town. It puts me on edge, in a constant state of fight or flight. What do I even know about Tess, anyway? She’s a work colleague. And a grown woman. Maybe she changed her mind about coming. Or took a nap and just, poof, forgot.
I take in a deep breath then exhale slowly, letting all my paranoia and suspicions drain out of me, and focus on the conversation.
“Where’s Abbi tonight?” Sawyer asks Ethan.
“Girls’ night with my sisters,” he says.
To me, Sawyer explains, “Ethan’s with Abbi, James Baret’s little sister. She was a freshman when we were seniors.”
I vaguely remember her, best friends with Ethan’s twin sisters of the same year.
Rich laughs. “I still can’t believe you settled down, man. You were such a player!”
“Hey,” Ethan protests, “she was with someone else for ten years. What was I supposed to do? Join a convent?”
Sawyer sputters into his drink, and I know he’s imagining the same thing as me: Ethan in a nun’s habit.
“Monastery,” he corrects.
Rich smirks. “Joining a monastery wouldn’t help, kings have huge harems.”
“Monarchy,” I say, biting back a smile.
Rich tilts his head, puzzled. “You’re talking nonsense.”
“Malarkey,” Sawyer and I say together.
“You lost me,” Rich says.
Sawyer and I grin at each other, warmth washing over me.
This is okay. This is fine. This isn’t high school. I don’t have to trust these people to enjoy myself tonight.
Then the door to the restaurant opens, and a wild-eyed Tess stumbles in.