2. Knox #2
I don’t show it to Ella, just pocket my phone and get out of the car. She follows close behind.
The smell hits me the second I’m out of the car. Sunscreen and popcorn mixed with a hint of gas fumes from the rides. Same type of smells since we were kids. Same as the summer she talked me into riding the log flume three times in a row and I pretended to be annoyed about it.
I wasn’t annoyed. I would’ve ridden it thirty times if she kept asking.
We wait outside the ticket windows, the perfect spot to watch cars coming into the lot.
I lean back against a pillar, sunglasses on, observing.
Ella stands beside me, close but not touching, her own sunglasses catching the morning glare.
She’s stopped humming, at least. Now she’s got her eyes glued to her phone.
The gates opened a few minutes ago, and the crowd surges forward like they’ve been holding their breath and now they can all exhale.
Kids drag parents, parents drag each other, everyone performing their roles of fun, happy family about to enjoy the place they drove two hours and paid hundreds of dollars for.
A toddler runs by us, his head down like a determined bull, while his father jogs after him looking like he hasn’t slept in three years.
A normal summer morning. Everyone exactly where they think they want to be.
I pull up the app. The dot has moved, finally. They’re pulling into the lot.
I pocket my phone and straighten off the pillar.
“Are they here?” Ella asks.
“Almost.”
She nods and smooths her dress down with both hands, readying herself to be the easygoing girlfriend who everyone loves. She’s good at it. Sometimes I wonder if she actually does care for me. I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn’t.
I scan the lot over the heads of the crowd.
Sawyer’s almost here and I still haven’t found the right words I want to say to her.
I’ve had all night and all morning and the whole drive here and I still don’t have them.
Whatever I say I’m going to have to find in real time, and not in front of my brother. This is between me and Sawyer.
I find her before I find Owen. I always do. I always will.
She’s moving through the crowd with her hand in his.
I feel my fist tighten around my phone as I take her in.
She’s wearing cut-off shorts and a short-sleeve top, it’s cropped just enough that there’s a sliver of skin at her waist when she moves.
Her blonde hair’s thick and wavy and loose against her shoulders.
I’ve always loved her hair, it’s perfect for wrapping fingers in and tugging.
Owen’s close to her ear and she’s smiling at him. Not her real smile—this one shows her anxiety. He probably thinks it’s the real thing, though. He’s never known the difference. But I have. I’ve always known.
They cross the last stretch of parking lot and I get a better look at her. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and not the kind of pink that comes from the morning heat. And there, right on the side of her neck, barely hidden by her hair, is a mark. Small and dark.
My jaw tightens. I know exactly why they were late.
Ella moves first, pulling Sawyer into a hug like they’re old friends instead of near strangers who’ve exchanged maybe thirty words at family functions neither of them wanted to attend.
I watch Sawyer’s expression shift to mild surprise, then the polite version of warmth she gives people she doesn’t know well enough to trust yet.
I stay where I am, staring at my brother’s hands. The same hands that were all over Sawyer this morning. That touch her every morning.
“Finally,” Ella’s saying. “I was starting to think you guys bailed.”
“Traffic,” Owen says smoothly, moving in to hug Ella next.
I look directly at Sawyer. “Traffic. Right.”
She holds my gaze, daring me to be the one to blink first.
She’s got that fucking flush in her cheeks, the mark I won’t stop thinking about, and now she’s putting up her armor. The same way she always does when I’m within ten feet of her.
I push off the pillar.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Owen says, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough that I know he’s telling me to behave.
I let out a huff and fall into step beside him, letting the distance between me and Sawyer grow before I say some shit I’ll regret.
Owen starts rambling about the new coaster, about some ride ranking he saw online, about wanting to find the good churro stand before the line gets long. And I let his voice go in one ear and out the other because I’m trying to hear Sawyer.
Ella is chatting away at her, asking her about the last time she was here, sounding a little too bright to be genuine. Sawyer’s responses are short, polite. Not giving too much away.
I don’t turn around, even though I’d give my left hand to watch the small changes in her expression.
I stay quiet, looking ahead.
She’s been busy fucking Owen this morning. We both know it, and neither of us is going to say it out loud. But I bet she knows I won’t stop thinking about it. I bet she’s flaunting that hickey to punish me.
It’s deserved.
I keep walking. Keep hearing Owen talk without actually listening.
Whatever I decide to say to Sawyer today can stay here in my chest, waiting for the right time.