As if on cue, his head turns and finds me, our gazes colliding. I swear to God, it feels like an inferno just started in this room. He tilts his head toward a hallway, one that looks dark and unoccupied, and without another word to my friends, I take off in that direction.
“Oh, okay, I see how it is.” Nate chuckles at my back as I seek out Sawyer.
It could be the liquor, it could be his impassioned speech on Main Street, or it could be that my view was changed yet again by another trip to Haiti. But something in me has let a lot of the pain and animosity go where it concerns Sawyer.
We reach the opening to the hallway at the same time, and I notice that we’re alone and out of view over here. This doesn’t feel like homecoming, where we were dancing out of view because he didn’t want anyone to see us. This feels … necessary. Like we need to be alone with each other, not out of the public eye.
“Hi.” I breathe, looking up into his eyes.
Sawyer searches my face and steps in closer, his big body dwarfing mine. My heart skitters to a halt and then beats so rapidly I practically feel it in my throat.
“I’m not waiting until midnight.”
And before I can ask what he means, his mouth is engulfing mine.
It only takes me a second to respond, my arms winding around his neck and my body pressing flush to his. The kiss seems endless, sucking every ounce of attention from me and focusing it solely on Sawyer and his lips. Friction builds in between my thighs, so intense a pressure that I feel the need to arch my back and press my core into him.
He’s practically lifting me off my feet, and our bodies are nearly suctioned together. There is so much heat I might just ignite. It’s as if we’re about to knowingly jump right off the edge of a cliff, and both of us are excited to do that.
“You drive me crazy.” Sawyer breaks the kiss, growling a low and seductive noise.
“I know what you mean.” I don’t even sound like myself, I’m so breathy.
“Come with me?” he asks, lacing his fingers in mine.
Somewhere behind us, the countdown to the ball drop begins. We’re going to miss it, but there is nowhere else I’d rather be than wherever he’s about to take me.
“Anywhere,” I tell him.
Before Sawyer takes my hand and pulls me completely out of view of the living room, I watch as Matt bends his head to Laura’s. Well, I guess she got her New Year’s wish. I just hope it doesn’t end up burning her.
And I hope whatever is about to happen doesn’t end up burning me.
In all of my encounters with boys, I’ve been reserved. I’ve held back, I wasn’t into it, or maybe, they just weren’t it.
Nothing about this seems fast, even though it is. Nothing about this seems impulsive, even though it might be. Tonight, I may just give myself to Sawyer in the most intimate way possible.
Everything about it feels right, there is no uncertainty in my mind or in my heart.
I just hope that doesn’t come back to burn everything down around me.
25
Sawyer
My heart is going to give out.
No, truly, it’s beating too fast and I can’t seem to catch a breath. Blair, Blair, is half-naked beneath me and I think I might just faint on top of her.
Jeez, I need to get it together. I can’t pass out, not when I want to touch and taste every part of her. She deserves to be worshipped right now, but it’s like my body, mind, and heart are in disbelief that this is finally happening.
“I’ve waited a lifetime for this.” I groan, coming down on her as her legs wrap around my waist.
I led us into one of the bedrooms in Hailey’s lake house after I nearly took Blair right there in the hallway. Not exactly the place I thought we would first … well, I’m not exactly sure how far we’ll go here, but I certainly didn’t think it would be at one of Hailey’s parties.
But it’s the new year, the clock has struck midnight, and we deserve a clean slate. We deserve to go into this new three hundred and sixty-five days capturing every moment, since we wasted so much time already.
We’re still both dressed aside from our shirts, which are somewhere on the floor, and my fingers itch to pull the cups of her bra down.
“I’ve thought about this so many times.” Blair moans as I kiss her again, the sound vibrating in my mouth.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful.” I want to focus, to pull every shred of clothing off and watch her as she comes, but I can’t seem to stop talking.
“Please … Sawyer, touch me …” Her eyes are hazy when I pull back to look at them.
If I had to die, hearing those words as my last it would be a damn good way to go.
Immediately, my right hand skates down from where it’s positioned on one side of her head. I hold myself up with the other, hovering over her body so I can see her face as I begin to explore her. She’s so gorgeous, with all of those brown curls spread over the mattress, and her eyes go wide as I pull one cup of her lacy white bra down.
Her nipple greets me budded and hard, and my cock knocks against the zipper of my jeans like it’s trying to break out. I’m so hard that I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep the sensations at bay, because I want to focus on Blair first.
“I don’t even know where to start …” I trail off, because it’s true.
I want to go fast; I want to go slow. I want to just lie here staring at her all night.
Instead, I go for her lips again, because I’ll never be able to kiss them enough. Our tongues dance as I move my hand over both of her tits, more than a handful each and so sensitive as she mewls into my mouth.
I feel her hands as they go to my belt buckle, and the sound of my zipper being dragged down might as well be atomic bombs being dropped. That’s how impactful it is. My cock strains against the material, and my heart is galloping as I feel Blair’s smooth fingers push past the waistband of my boxers.
When one hand closes around me, I all but pass out.
“Jesus …” I groan as she tests me, stroking tentatively up and down.
“Oh, it’s … wet?” she whispers, and I realize it then.
This is her first time doing anything. As much as it kills me to possibly stop this, I need her to know.
“If this is too fast, we can stop right now. I can hold you, I’ll hold you all night long. But if you need to stop—”
“No.” Her eyes blink up at me, and a bond stronger than anything I’ve experienced ties us together. “I want this. I want you.”
“Okay.” I rest my forehead against hers before pressing a kiss gently to her cheek. “That wetness? Its precum. It means I’m excited as all hell that you’ve got your hand down my pants. It means I’m probably going to embarrass myself because you’re making me feel so incredible.”
“Oh.” The heated whisper comes from her lips.
I press my mouth to hers, and she opens for me. We work each other, my fingers playing with her nipple. I don’t want to rush her, but after a few minutes I can’t help myself. My mouth moves from her lips, down to her neck, over her collarbone where I suck at her skin. Then I’m at her breasts, my teeth scraping the sensitive buds there. She’s cherry red perfection, the perfect topping on top of creamy skin.
“Say cheese!”
My head snaps up from where it’s just buried in Blair’s boobs, the taste of her skin still on my tongue as I see the flash go off.
“What the fuck?” I say to no one in particular as the bulb from the cell phone camera dot my vision.
“I cannot even believe this.” A familiar high-pitched, whiny voice cackles. “You? With him? Is this a pity fuck or something?”
My head clears and I’m looking at Hailey, who is holding her cell phone up, the camera noise clicking. Swiveling fast, I see Blair’s bare breasts in the light spilling in from the door, and she snaps her arms from where they’re wound around my neck and straight to her chest.
But the damage is already done. Hailey definitely has nude pict
ures of her, and my blood goes from sparking because of the way Blair was kissing me, to boiling over at how furious I am that her privacy was just invaded.
I hop up, silently shaking with rage, and march over to Hailey. I don’t even care that my pants are almost around my knees or that my hard-as-steel cock could pop out of my boxers at any moment. I have one goal, tunnel vision; destroy that fucking phone.
Without a word, I deftly snatch her phone, throw it to the floor, and stomp on it with my still boot-clad foot.
“Oh my God!” she screeches. “Are you fucking crazy?”
I smash the glass, the little bit of memory card, and metal that make up her expensive cell. “No, are you fucking crazy? Coming in here and taking pictures like that! There are laws against this shit, Hailey. Not to mention, it just makes you a shitty fucking person!”
I send up a prayer that she didn’t have time to text those images to anyone, and hope that I was in time for any cloud uploads or shit like that. Her phone lays in an electronic mess at my feet, and I shove her out the door.
“Get the fuck out, now!” My palm connects with the wood and pushes it, the hinges of the door rattling from the force.
The door slams in her face, but I hear a fist pounding. “You get the fuck out! This is my house! If you want to slum it with some loser whose tits are saggy, you’re not going to do it on my property!”
The whole party just heard her, and I can hear the laughter even through the closed doors. I never wanted to punch a girl more in my entire life.
It takes me ten seconds of furious breaths in and out of my nose to collect myself enough to turn around and check on Blair. She’s going to be reeling from this, this is going to humiliate her. I don’t want to add to that. As gently as I can, I turn around.
“Are you okay?” I say into the dark, trying to move toward her again.
When my eyes finally adjust to the room again, I see her moving at hyper speed.
“You set me up.” Blair whips her bra off the floor and jams it over her head.
Everything in her radiates shame, and I know she is convinced I did this. Why wouldn’t she be with everything I’ve done to her before?
But I take her hands in mine, even though I’m quite sure it’ll get me slapped. “Blair, listen, I would never—”
“I never should have believed you. Believed in this! God, how stupid can I be?” She shakes her head, replacing the sweater I shed from her torso.
Desperation swamps me. “I destroyed the phone! Why would I do that if I set you up?”
“You think I’m a goddamn idiot, don’t you? Did you snicker to your little popular crew about me? Did you all get a good laugh at my expense?”
Blair is spitting venom now, and I want to tear this house apart in fury. Just when we found a bit of trust, just when I thought we could get past this, the universe and an asshole teenage girl fucks it up.
I try to reach for her, but she dodges me. “B, I would never do that to you. I … I want this. I want us. Please, don’t do this. This is what Hailey wants.”
If there weren’t alcohol in her system, maybe she’d be viewing this with a clearer head. But I can see it in her eyes, she’s spiraling. I’m still the villain in her story, and tonight was a mistake for her. My heart aches to stop this, to end the roller coaster and get off holding her hand.
“No, this is what I get for trusting you. It’s just like it’s always been; I’m too much of a consequence for you, Sawyer. You want me in the dark, where no one can witness us together. You and I will never exist in the light as anything more than enemies. That’s what you and your little stunt just proved.”
She stalks out, slamming the door behind her, and I don’t go after her. There is nothing left to say tonight, and I know it won’t make a difference. Blair is too far gone in her own nightmare to listen to me.
“Happy freaking New Year,” I grumble to the empty room, hoping to everything holy that this is not the way the next twelve months goes.
26
Blair
As if the stunt on New Year’s isn’t enough to send me into a tailspin of sadness and distrust, Mom shows up two days later.
About ten days after she originally promised she’d spend Christmas with Dad and me, mother dearest floats into town with her designer luggage, Lululemon yoga chic outfit, and thousand-dollar sunglasses. I know that’s how much they cost, because she flat-out told me.
The first day she arrived, she whirled around our house as if she still lived there. Dad built it for them about three years into their marriage, right before I was born, and I know she had a hand in some of the layout and design. But for her to claim it as her territory, the way she has been subtly doing for the last twenty-four hours, is bullshit. I want to scream that she hasn’t lived here in years, much less given a damn about her family who had, but it wasn’t worth it.
Confronting a narcissist about their behavior is a surefire way to get gaslit. They are never going to admit their faults, so you either have to feel crazy in silence or face the consequences of the victim blaming if you do bring up the elephant in the room.
“I can’t believe you let her stay here,” I grumble at Dad, probably for the fourth or fifth time since my mother arrived.
He sighs, but I can tell it’s more tense than his usual demeanor about her. “I … don’t know.”
Something has shifted in Dad’s attitude toward her since she arrived. It’s like, during this visit, he’s finally seeing how much of a monster she really is. I can tell that with every story about her grand adventures, with every question she doesn’t ask me, with every hour of time spent taking selfies or uploading stories to Instagram, Dad is growing more and more annoyed.
I tried to tell him before, but I’ll take this. Perhaps the rose-colored glasses are finally off.
“When is she leaving?” I ask.
“She didn’t say. You start school back in two days, so deal with it for now. We don’t know when she’ll be back.” He stares off out the window over the kitchen sink, looking pensive.
We’re in the kitchen together, grazing for food. It’s our usual weekend lunchtime routine, because we both aren’t big sandwich or salad people. Like father, like daughter.
Mom walks in, having spent the entire morning in the guest room doing God knows what instead of spending any quality time with me, her only child.
Her hair, which used to be the same shade as mine but is now done in that fake gray that people think is cool for some reason, is blown out to perfection. She has fake lashes on, which I think she glued on herself because those weren’t there last night. The lime-green workout capris and matching long sleeve crop top are not anywhere near seasonably appropriate, and she’s wearing five-hundred-dollar Golden Goose sneakers on her feet. I’m kind of ashamed to resemble her, even though my vanity and materialism will never reach the height of hers.
“Oh, did anyone make breakfast? Maybe some overnight oats, or a protein pancake?” she asks, looking at Dad and I like we’re her butlers.
“Cereal is in the pantry, or there are eggs you can make yourself in the fridge.” I point to both.
My mother frowns. “Hm, I thought someone would have prepared the meal.”
Right, because this is a hotel?
“Breakfast was technically three hours ago, when Blair and I cooked sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits together. It’s lunch, and I think you’re capable of making something.” Dad doesn’t exactly snap at her, but I can feel his passive-aggressiveness.
Mom looks like he just pissed in her Wheaties, not that she’d eat that many carbs. “I’ll just grab some carrots.”
She roots around in the fridge and comes out with one tiny carrot. So she hasn’t eaten all day, and this is going to be her meal? I thank the Fates a lot for keeping her out of my life while I was growing up, but I send them some more praise. So many girls I know grow up with disordered eating or dieting because of their mothers, and I could have been seriously affected by what c
learly is an obsession for this woman.
“But for dinner, I thought we could go eat at Sal’s. It was always our favorite place,” Dad suggests, and it kills me that there is a tinge of hope in his voice.
“A diner? Nothing there would be on my approved diet. So don’t feel bad going without me.” She grins.
Suspicion churns in my gut. “Why don’t you just come with us and have a water with lemon, then?”
My mom picks at a nonexistent piece of lint on her Lululemon sherpa pullover. “That’s all right. I think I’m just going to meet up with some old friends here.”
“Which ones?” Dad asks, and it’s not his usual good-natured tone.
“Oh, you probably don’t remember them.” She waves a hand at him.
“You’re going to meet them for dinner?” It’s only when I look past her, into the living room, that I notice her bags sitting by the front door.
“We may stay out for drinks after, I’m not sure.” She looks uneasy with both of us pressing her for details, and I know she’s lying.
Her default mode is lying, so I should have expected this.
“Why are your bags packed?” I shoot her a glare.
Shifty eyes, twisting the boho rings on her fingers, nervous smile … all telltale signs.
“Well, a few industry friends pulled some strings and got me into this three-day fitness retreat in the Hamptons. I’ll be teaching a hot yoga class to some really experienced students and rubbing elbows with a lot of influential people in my space. This is a really big deal for me. You two should be happy for me.”
Only someone who has no self-awareness tells others that they should be happy for them.
“You’ve been here for less than twenty-four hours, Jessica.”
My father is a kind man. He’s typically always happy and never raises his voice. No, it’s when he gets deadly quiet and monotone that you should be worried. That’s how he sounds now, and I know he’s about to unleash on her.
Foes & Cons Page 13