Because in an instant, it all clicks into place. I know exactly what Blair is talking about.
The pros and cons list I drafted up all those summers ago.
But how the fuck did she know about that?
“You … you read that?” My voice has a note of disbelief.
Her cheeks go scarlet, and I know I’ve caught her. She must have been snooping. “You wrote it. You actually had to draft a list of reasons why it would be social suicide to date me. To have feelings for me.”
I stumble backward, transported back in time. I was a stupid fucking kid, just past the stage of puberty where I started to develop sexual feelings for a girl I always considered my family. I didn’t know what to do with those urges, and so I sat down and tried to convince myself, with that list, not to fuck our relationship up simply because I wanted to kiss her.
To know that this is the reason she hates me, that it’s been more than two years and she never spilled the beans? I feel so blindsided; I think I’ll have permanent dots on the outside of my vision. My gut is reeling, it feels like Blair has just sucker punched me there. So many pieces of the puzzle, so many questions I never had answers to, click into place. It feels like a Rubik’s cube I’ve finally solved.
But that doesn’t mean it gives me any feeling of satisfaction, or certainty. If anything, I feel even more off balance.
And betrayed.
“I didn’t break us, then. You did. You were going through my shit, and that was something you were never meant to find. What if I did that to you? Would that be fair?” My voice is getting angrier with every syllable, because this is all hitting me like a ton of bricks.
Blair’s face turns scarlet. “I-I … whatever, you still wrote it. You still put words to all of the reasons it wouldn’t be cool to be with me. You reduced me to nothing. You never … you never gave us a chance.”
Her voice is so small on that last part of the sentence, that it strikes me; she wanted to be with me, too. All this time, I thought she rejected me because she never wanted anything romantic between us. Now I know that we are just two sides of the same coin, struggling to come to terms with both falling in love with our best friend.
“And you ruined any chance we ever could have had.” I can’t see past my anger right now, can’t apologize for the way I made her feel.
The fury poisoning my veins right now needs to be unleashed, but I know it’ll be like dropping an atom bomb, something we can’t come back from, if I stay here.
So without another word, and with Blair yelling at my retreating back, I make a break for it.
I got the answers I’ve been asking for all this time. Except now that I have them, I don’t want them at all.
20
Sawyer
Students swarm the halls, the in between time as they pass from one class to another filled with shouts, anxiety, and frantically switching new and old books in and out of lockers.
I’m moseying, as I’ve done most days of this year. I’m a senior, and a pretty secure one in my studies at that. I know what I want to go to college for, and I’ve got a pretty good handle going on my honors classes. Also, being one of the more well-known students, read popular, in school affords me more privileges when it comes to teacher’s leniency. It shouldn’t be that way, but it is, and I take advantage of it.
With my back to the cool metal of my locker, I casually sip a can of Dr. Pepper and watch the chaos. It’s going to be weird, leaving this place where I’m top dog. Next year, I’ll be a small fish in an enormous pond, and I’m kind of looking forward to it. There will be no expectations, no assumptions about who I am or a rep I have to protect, so to say.
Perhaps that will be the best thing for me. Look how protecting my reputation hurt the one person I love most. If I wasn’t so concerned with how others view me, if I never wrote that list, who knows what would have happened between Blair and me.
I’ve had a few days to process everything that went down at Blair’s house, and the anger has left me. Mostly. I’m still kind of ticked that she was sneaking around in my room, but I’m positive she never thought she’d find something like that.
What I did, reducing her worth to such a shallow, surface level, hurt way worse. That betrayal is by far greater than what she did to me. I can see it now, the internal debate she would have with herself after she found it. I can see it now, the pain in her eyes the night of the seven minutes in heaven debacle. The last night we were truly friends.
Although, I guess we weren’t, by that point. How strange is it that I was going to go for it, I was going to kiss her … and meanwhile, Blair was trying not to break down at how badly I hurt her.
No, neither of us were justified in how we behaved afterward. She should have confessed that she found the list, and we could have dealt with it. Maybe it would have ended our friendship anyway, but we could have done so without all the mudslinging. Now, there are so many events to point to where I was a complete asshole, and I wish I could take them all back.
Across the hall, I spot her long chestnut hair. Blair is walking between Nate and Laura, the three of them in an animated conversation. My gaze falls to her ass, snug and round in a pair of curve-hugging jeans. Even though we’re in a hall full of students and teachers, I spring a middie. My cock stiffens, wondering just how it would feel rubbing up against those perky cheeks. What would my hands feel like as they teased up and under her sweater, what sounds would she make against my ears as my fingers—
Fuck, I need to get a handle on myself. With the way my dirty mind is going, I’ll be trying to rub one out in the bathroom in about two seconds.
But every time I’m around her now, whether she’s aware of my presence or not, I’m more and more drawn to her. It’s as if that kiss, and the subsequent fight, has unleashed something primal between us. Now that I know why she distanced herself, why she made me hate her and I did the same in turn …
I can try to fix it.
This is it, our final year in Chester. Come August, we’ll go off to college, and I may never get this chance again. The chance to tell her how profoundly sorry I am, even if my trust is bruised a little from how she’d gone through my things to find the list. In the grand scheme of things, what I’ve done is way worse than her prying eyes.
Why the hell did I write that dumb pros and cons list in the first place? I was a scared, stupid kid. Not that I am much wiser now, but I know I want her and I know I’ll humble myself, grovel and apologize, put on public grand gestures, to do so.
My eyes track her until she’s all but out of sight, lost in the sea of teenage bodies. What would it be like to hold her hand, walk her to class, kiss her before we had to separate? What would it be like if I got to drive her home and sneak up to her room before her dad got home? To ask her to prom, to spend every bit of time left in our hometown together. Aren’t these the scenarios I’ve always secretly dreamed of?
I don’t need a pros and cons list anymore; I don’t need to run scared from the feelings I have for my best friend. Er, former best friend.
By the time I’m done, I hope she’s no longer my friend. I hope she’s the girl I get to call mine.
I hope she’s the girl I can finally convince to fall in love with me, just like we should have two years ago.
21
Blair
I’m tempting fate by studying in my dad’s storefront today, but it’s calming in here.
The dark tones of the design, the classical music that Thomas likes to sketch to, the worn leather chairs and low coffee table that I spread all my textbooks out on … it reminds of a simpler time.
A time when my heart wasn’t so confused, when my head wasn’t constantly spinning. If I’m not thinking about Sawyer and our fight, or my feelings for him, I’m worrying about my advanced placement tests or college applications. I’m fretting about leaving Dad and the only home I’ve ever known, or loathing that my mom is seemingly trying to come around again.
Winter break is just a wee
k away, and I just hit submit on my four college applications. I sent up a little prayer when I did so, even though I’m not religious at all. Sayossett College and Brockden University are my top choices, their political science programs being two of the best on the East Coast, but there is a lot of competition to get in.
So here I am, burying my worries in my high school homework while I hide in the familiarity of Dad’s office. Thomas is hard at work at his desk in the back, and Dad is closer to the front at his desk. He’s been on and off phone calls with clients, and I’m snuggled up on one of the big cognac leather chairs with a cup of tea. Outside, a light snow coats our New Jersey small town, and I’m reminded of why this is my favorite time of the year. Growing up in a town like Chester, the Christmas holidays are magic. Twinkling lights, local carolers in the street, the Main Street Christmas parade, the way everything just feels more magical in the month of December.
The bell over the shop door jingles, and I know who walks in just by the shift in the air. Tingles of awareness shoot up my spine, making the base of my neck feel wobbly. My stomach is dipping like I’ve just taken the first drop on a roller coaster, and I kind of want to bolt.
But I make myself sit, rooted to the spot, my head not rising from my textbooks. I’m pretending to read, so ridiculously that I focus on the word Washington about forty times in an effort to appear entrenched in my history homework.
“Good to see you, son.” My dad stands, and out of the corner of my eye I see him heartily shaking hands with Sawyer.
“I didn’t think you were popping by today.” Thomas walks into the main part of the shop/office and smiles, the love of a father who just wants to spend the last moments of high school time with his son evident on his face.
“Can’t I come see my old man? And possibly buy him dinner?” Sawyer says this so innocently.
In the two years since we stopped being friends, he has barely come in here after school. I know this because I spend many an afternoon here. Even more rare? Him coming in to buy his dad dinner. Something is up, I smell it from a mile away.
“How generous of you.” Thomas beams, always taking most people at face value. “What’re you thinking?”
I still haven’t looked up, though I feel his gaze all over me. It makes me hot, and I have to discreetly shift in my overstuffed chair because breath is suddenly hard to come up for.
“Actually, I was thinking I could buy us all dinner. I know how much you like the Indian place, Blair. Want to come help me carry some stuff back?”
And there it is, the manipulative play he was aiming at. He knows that by asking me to help, in front of our fathers, I can’t really cause a scene. Plus, he knows a delicious takeout meal is a way to get on my good side.
I look up, scowling, and see Dad and Thomas exchange a strange, worrisome look. It’s the first time they’re witnessing their children talking amicably to each other in over two years, so now wonder they’re surprised. I’d like to tell Sawyer off right now, especially since he ran out of my house the other week, blaming me for how everything went down.
We haven’t spoken since that day, and I’ve been nearly gnawing my fingernails to the quick over it. I feel guilty, hurt, flayed open all over again. I deeply regret having invaded his privacy, but the pain of that list hit me all over again when I finally confessed everything to him. Knowing that he knows what I read makes the wound almost fresh, and I know we have to talk, but I’m avoiding it for as long as I can.
Seems that Sawyer is forcing my hand, always writing the script for both of us. He wants to talk, so apparently, it’s time to talk.
“Sure.” I don’t let any hint of emotion seep into my voice.
I stand and grab my coat before I follow him out onto Main Street. The cold bursts through the door, catching up my hair and invading all the nooks and crannies of my bones. I hug myself, trying to fight the shiver.
“Shit, should we have just stayed at the office?” Sawyer looks at me with concern, because he knows that I know we’re not out here just to get food.
“It’s fine. Whatever you have to say, I don’t want them to overhear.” I’m cautious and weary, and I’m pretty sure it shows.
“Do you want to pick up the food first?” He’s hedging, avoiding, and it’s making me want to crawl out of my skin.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Just say it.”
We’re standing under a street lamp, the light that’s meant to look like an old gas flame shining down onto us. Christmas lights dot the main drag and cascade out into the park across the street, strung up on the gazebo and all along the fence bordering the small pond there.
Sawyer looks down, his long black lashes shielding me from seeing the green of his eyes. His shoulders slump, and he takes a step toward me before blinking up, regret marring his face.
“I am so, so sorry. I have to say that first. Had I known what you found, all those years ago, I would have said it right then. What you saw, that list, Blair, it was inexcusable. I was an idiot, a dumb kid who didn’t know what was right in front of him.”
I have to look down, because I can feel the tears threatening. “You called me rude. You called me stuck up, Sawyer. Those words you wrote … I’ve never felt uglier in my life.”
“God, I’m a fucking moron, okay? All of those cons I listed, they were things that scared me to death. Of course, you’re gorgeous, my God, Blair, I can barely keep my hands off you. Even right now, when I want you to really hear me, I wish I could touch you everywhere. And you aren’t rude, you’re assertive. You know what you want and you go get it. Back then, and now, it’s intimidating. Peer pressure had me climbing the walls; I wasn’t secure enough with myself to be with you and fall into a place where we didn’t have to party, where we didn’t need anyone but each other. I see how goddamn wrong I was, I just want—”
His palm slides over my cheek, and I know he’s about to pull me in. My lips tingle at the thought, but my heart splinters when he touches me.
“No, don’t touch me!” I wrench my face away from him. “You’re only saying this now because I turned pretty. Because my boobs grew in and my ass finally fits in jean shorts the right way. You didn’t want me! Not back when I was just your nerdy little friend, when you couldn’t decide if liking me would be a mark against your rise on the social ladder. I read your words, Sawyer, I know how you viewed me. Instead of appreciating me for the great friend I was to you, instead of following how you truly felt inside, you based my worth off some shallow bullshit. So no, I don’t want to hear what you have to say. You only want me now because I’m finally hot enough, right? Two years of being terrible to me, and now I measure up to someone worthy of dating you, is that it? Well, I’m not walking into that trap.”
“B, please—” He uses my nickname, the one he gave me, and his voice is a note of desperation.
“Don’t you dare call me that.” A tear dashes down my cheek, and I swipe at it angrily.
Shit, I don’t want to cry in front of him, but my heart is so bruised that the emotion is leaking out of me.
He steps closer, and I inhale as a warning. But Sawyer isn’t stopping, and in an instant, he is nearly enveloping me.
“I hate myself. I hate that you found that, but I hate even more that I wrote it. I was a shitty, self-centered little boy who couldn’t get his head out of his ass long enough to see that the only girl ever worth loving was standing right in front of him. I won’t make that mistake twice. I see you, Blair. I want you, only you. I’d want you if your ass wasn’t perfect, if your boobs hadn’t grown in. I want you no matter if we’re prom king and queen or sitting with the band geeks at lunch. I. Want. You.”
The cold is singeing me everywhere now, freezing the tips of my nose, ears, and fingers. “How can I ever believe that?”
A beat passes, and then Sawyer stoops down so that I have to look him in the eyes.
“I am going to prove it to you. I’m not going to stop trying to prove to you that for me, you are it. We’
ve wasted so much time, I’m not going to let another second slip by. You’ll see.”
I don’t protest as he slips an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, his warmth seeping into my skin. My heart is beating like a drum at one of our high school football games, vibrating my entire body.
As we walk down the streets of our hometown, I don’t pull away.
22
Sawyer
Christmas rolls around, the marking period ends, and the Odens leave for Haiti.
The first half of the school year seems to have both flown by and crawled at a snail’s pace. On one hand, I can’t believe senior year is almost halfway over. On the other, everything that has happened with Blair and me in the last three months seems like a lifetime of fights, memories and hopefully, some kind of resolution.
It seems as though she’s not going to fight me while I prove to her that I truly didn’t mean any of those things on the list, but I’m kind of glad for some space. She and Todd left for Haiti two days before Christmas, and it means we have to put any conversations or interactions on hold.
Honestly, it’s probably best for us right now. We both said a lot of things; emotions are running high, and taking a bit of a pause is probably a good thing. It doesn’t mean I don’t miss Blair like hell, and there isn’t even a way for me to contact her. In a way, it makes me appreciate and miss her more, and also gives me time to formulate a plan to show her how much she means to me.
It does mean I get to hang out with my boys, even if these idiots are already about to break their necks on the snowy mountain before us.
Glavin, Matt, me and a couple of other guys we are friends with decided to go snowboarding at the local mountain range. All of the local kids take the one-hour drive into the mountains pretty regularly, and my family has had season lift passes since I was about ten.
Foes & Cons Page 11