7. Sawyer
Sawyer
Five minutes alone feels like forever. I pull out my phone to text Owen something…anything, when Knox’s voice makes me jump.
“He ditch you?”
I spin around to find him standing right behind me, his hands in his pockets and those stupid aviators on even though we’re under an awning. Ella’s nowhere in sight, which I guess I expected.
“He went to help your girlfriend,” I try to hide the hurt in my tone, probably unsuccessfully. “Where is she, anyway?”
“Bathroom. She said her stomach was still bothering her.” He tilts his head toward Velocity looming in the distance. “You still doing this, or was that just talk?”
“Bathroom? But why…” I notice the way he’s looking at me, that cocky uptick of his chin, the slouch in his shoulders, and finally register the challenge he just dropped on me again. “I said I was riding it.”
“Yeah, you say a lot of things. Doesn’t mean you follow through.”
He steps closer and I catch another hint of that ocean breeze scent.
“Fuck you, Knox.”
“There she is.” The corner of his mouth quirks up, but there’s no warmth in it. “Was wondering when the real Sawyer would show up. I’m getting so bored of watching you play house with my brother.”
It’s like he slapped me. Worse, even. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve been putting on a show all day. Perfect girlfriend, perfect smile, pretending everything’s fine.”
I scoff and clench my fists so I don’t punch him here and now in front of the snowcone kiosk. “You’re one to talk. Why is my boyfriend helping your ‘girlfriend’ in the fucking bathroom?”
I don’t realize I’ve raised my voice until a family of four turns to stare at us with horrified expressions.
Shit.
Knox grabs my elbow and pulls me away from them, steering me toward a less crowded area near the side of a deserted kiddie ride. His grip is firm but not rough, and I hate that I feel it all the way to my core.
“Let go of me,” I hiss, yanking my arm free once we’re out of earshot.
“You want to have this conversation in front of half the park? Be my guest.”
“I don’t want to have any conversation with you at all.”
“And yet here we are.” He crosses his arms, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “For the record, Ella went to the bathroom alone. Why the fuck would she need help in the bathroom?”
“Then why did Owen—”
“I don’t know, Sawyer. Maybe ask your boyfriend.” He says “boyfriend” like it gives him a bad taste in his mouth.
My head is spinning. I just…I can’t deal with this right now.
Knox finally takes off his glasses, holding them in his fist so tight I’m surprised they’re still whole.
My phone chimes and we both look at the place in my bag. I grab it before Knox can make another shitty comment about his brother or about his girlfriend.
Owen: On my way back. Where are you?
“It’s Owen, he’s—” Before I can text back, Knox pulls the phone out of my hand. “What are you doing?”
“Ignore him. He’s fine.”
“Give me my phone back, Knox.” I reach for it, but he holds it up far out of my reach, which is infuriatingly easy for him given our height difference.
“Not until you listen to me.”
“I don’t want to listen to you. I want my phone back so I can tell my boyfriend where I am.”
“Your boyfriend.” He says it again in that same bitter tone. “Right. Your perfect, sweet boyfriend who everyone loves…who can do no wrong…”
“Stop. Just…” I refuse to back down. Instead, I look right at him with my chin raised. “What do you want from me?”
A muscle tics in his jaw and for a split second he looks past me. He lowers my phone but doesn’t give it back, just lets it hang loosely at his side.
“Knox?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. And this time there’s no smirk, no arrogant tone. It’s just Knox, looking at me like he used to before everything went to shit. “I don’t know what I want from you, Sawyer.”
Not Thorne. Sawyer. Fuck, my chest is in a vise grip.
“Then why are we doing this?” I gesture between us. “Why are you—Why do you keep—”
“Because I can’t help it.” He grits his teeth and speaks like every syllable is being dragged out of him against his will. “Because your family destroyed mine and no one else seems to fucking care anymore. I should hate you, and I want to hate you, but I…”
He pulls a hand through his hair, closing his lips tight. There’s a few feet between us and I swear if I reached out I’d feel a buzz on my skin.
I wish he’d just hate me. I wish I’d hate him. But I just…fuck. I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Knox?”
“He has a ring.”
My breath catches and every single thing around me freezes in time. The music blaring from speakers, the squeals from excited children, the bells and whistles from carnival games. It’s all drowned out by the thumping of my heart.
“What?”
“An engagement ring. He showed me earlier.” He sounds so uninterested…so flat, meanwhile I’m about to lose my damn mind.
“You’re lying. He’d tell me. He’d—”
“He’d what? Give you a heads up?” Knox lets out a harsh laugh. “That’s not how proposals work, Thorne.”
My hands are shaking. I ball them into fists at my sides hoping it’ll help. “Why would he tell you?”
“Because I’m his brother.” His throat bobs and he curls his free hand. “Of course he’d tell me. He’s all excited about it, going on and on about how he’s going to do it tonight at dinner.”
Tonight. Dinner.
Those two words echo in my mind like they’re not real.
“He wanted my blessing or some shit. Like I’m supposed to smile and congratulate him while he—”
He cuts himself off with a sigh, turning away.
“While he what?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
“No.” I step closer as my chest heaves. “You don’t get to drop that on me and then just shut down. While he what, Knox?”
He whips back to face me, and the look in his eyes steals whatever air I have left in my lungs. “While he gets everything I—” He stops again, shaking his head like he’s disgusted with himself. “Fuck. Just forget it.”
But I can’t forget it. How can I unhear what he almost said?
My phone chimes in his hand again. He glances at the screen and shakes his head.
“He’s looking for you.” Knox holds it out, and when I reach for it, his fingers brush mine. The contact is electric, and we both freeze for a moment. “Better run back before he thinks you got abducted by Giggles.”
Neither of us laughs at his joke. How could we?
I stare at my phone screen. Three new messages from Owen, each one more concerned than the last.
Owen: Where’d you go?
Owen: Sunny?
Owen: Getting worried. Text me back please.
“Do you love him?”
The question has me looking up from my phone before typing a response. The way Knox is looking at me…it’s so intense, so raw, it takes me a moment to catch my breath.
“Yes, I—”
“Because if you’re about to say yes to marrying him, you should at least be sure.
The response should be immediate.” He closes the space between us.
“Do you love him the way you’re supposed to love someone you’re going to spend the rest of your life with?
The way that makes you forget everyone else exists. The way that—”
I push my hands into his chest. “Stop.”
“Why, Thorne?” He cocks his head to the side, coming closer still. “Because you don’t want to admit that you settled? That you were too scared to—”
“Shut the hell up.”
He laughs in my face. I hate him. I hate him so fucking much.
“Why? Want me to keep making it easy for you? That way you can keep pretending you’re the good girl everyone thinks you are. Well, I know—”
My hand moves unconsciously. One second it’s balled at my side, the next it’s slapping Knox’s cheek, leaving a sharp stinging pain behind.
His head snaps to the side, and for a second, the only movement is the rise and fall of our chests.
Then he looks back at me, and he’s fucking smiling.
“I love when the real you comes out to play,” he says, rubbing at the red mark forming on his cheek. “The real Thorne, not afraid to give it back to me.”
“Fuck. You.”
I accentuate my words with a raise of my middle finger.
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve already said that.”
My phone chimes again, but this time I don’t look at it. I can’t.
He has a ring.
Instead, I look Knox dead in the eyes and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you riding Velocity or not?”
Knox tilts his head, studying me. “Thought you were waiting for Owen.”
I raise a brow already chastising myself for what I’m about to say. “Owen’s not here. And I’m tired of waiting.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, and there’s a glint in his eyes that reminds me of the old Knox. It sends heat racing down my spine.
“You’re going to regret this,” he says, as he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the ride.
“Probably.”
“He’s going to be pissed when he finds out you went without him.”
“I know.”
“And you’re doing it anyway?”
I don’t answer. There’s nothing else I can say. I just let him pull me forward through the crowd, his hand warm and firm around mine.
We reach the entrance to Velocity, and Knox finally drops my hand to pull out his phone. He scans our fast passes at the electronic reader, and the attendant, a girl who looks barely old enough to work here, waves us through to the express lane.
Instead of going straight to the queue, we’re directed to stacked metal lockers lining the wall.
Another attendant repeats his mantra, sounding like he’d do anything to be done with his shift. “All items must be locked in lockers. Phones, bags, hats, sunglasses…”
Knox finds an open locker and starts punching numbers into the keypad. It chirps, letting us know that we’re good to go.
“Come on,” he says, tossing his sunglasses inside. He’s reaching into his pocket for his phone and wallet, but I hesitate, clutching my crossbody bag. My phone chimes inside it. Knox holds out his hand, waiting.
I pull the bag off my shoulder and hand it to him. He sets it in the locker next to his stuff and I start emptying my pockets. ChapStick. Hair tie.
Knox is about to close it when my phone starts ringing.
We both stand stock-still.
I pull it from my bag and see Owen’s smiling face on the screen. My thumb hovers over the green button.