3 Sides to a Circle

by Janna Watts

  Chapter Five

  Honor

  I’ve had to chant it’s just coffee over and over and over since I woke up this morning. Actually, if I’m being honest, I’ve been chanting that for two days—since he asked me out for coffee. I’m not sure what the difference is between going out with a guy now and going out with a guy when I was living at home. But I was so relieved that I didn’t scare him away by freezing up the other day that I jumped at the chance to try again—probably too fast.

  Maybe it’s that it’s college and he’s twenty-one so it feels adult? Or maybe it’s that I just sort of fell into dating the guys I dated into high school and this feels more like it’s my decision. Like it’s all on me. And it’s not like I didn’t have the decision last year or the year before, but this feels different somehow. Like I could just not show up and we’re not in the same circle of people and I’m not dying for friends like I used to be, so it wouldn’t be horrible for me to pull a no-show.

  And once again it hits me how much I love being around Libby and Toby. Libby is fearless and amazing, and Toby’s like my ally in her crazy. I have people. I won’t be without people if I don’t meet up with Sawyer, but at the same time, that freedom makes me realize how much I want to see him. Being in control, even over something this simple, is empowering. Though honestly, I’m still a wreck.

  Libby’s pep talk this morning only slightly helped because she got all off track when she was talking about how hot Sawyer is… She ended up talking about abs instead of how I needed to chill. Still…turning Sawyer into just a hot guy instead of the hot and sweet and seemingly perfect guy did help a little. In the few weeks I’ve known her, she’s helped me relax about loads of daily stuff that causes me anxiety.

  I shuffle slower as I near the art building. Me and Sawyer said we’d meet halfway between our classes, but he’s running late, and now I feel like I’m the one stalking him or picking him up, and that might be putting myself out there more than I want to be—so, yeah. I’m not really channeling Libby in the way I want to.

  The moment I freeze on the sidewalk, Sawyer steps out of the art building, smiling wide when he sees me. I thaw a little, and part of me calms down because I’m here and he’s here and we’re obviously going to sit and have coffee, and the rest of me winds up so tight I’ve lost words.

  He buttons up the front of his worn, gray pea coat and shoves his hands in his pockets. I stand, totally still, just waiting.

  “You okay?” he asks when he stops in front of me. “You look frozen or…”

  Terrified? “I’m good. It’s just cold.”

  “So, how was super algebra, or whatever you were just in?” He chuckles and my feet start to work again as we walk toward the coffeehouse.

  “Abstract algebra, and I actually know what’s going on in there, instead of being lost like I am in the lit class we’re in.” The whole sentence came out, and I’m not feeling weird about walking with this guy who is almost too good looking to be real, and who is just…totally genuine. Or seems to be.

  “And I don’t even know what abstract algebra means.” He lets out another tight laugh, and I guess maybe Sawyer’s a little nervous too, which helps my shoulders relax and makes me feel like this is okay. That we’re a little more even than I thought we were.

  “And you do real art. I do art on a computer.” I’m not sure why I’m pointing out our differences, but I think again it’s making me realize how many ways I’m choosing this. We’re both going out of our way to spend time together. And that means something, which I like. A lot. Even though it’s scary to move forward with someone new.

  “Honor.” He stops. “The graphic stuff? On the computer? It’s real art. It’s just different mediums. Don’t sell yourself short on that.”

  The seriousness of his words stun me for a moment before we start walking again. “I just like how easy it is to fix mistakes, and I’d hate any kind of art where I’d need to draw or paint a person.” Sitting for too many hours in front of a camera has tainted that for me.

  “Really?” He pushes open the door of Joe’s Coffee to let me in.

  “Well, yeah. The model would seem so…exposed.” I swallow hard because I don’t want to tell him about that part of my life yet. How naked it feels to have someone looking at you as something that doesn’t feel personal. Human. Objectified is the absolute perfect word. I can hear the voice behind the camera in my mind—Change the lighting. Move her arm so it hides that bit of extra flesh near her armpit. Make her stand over there. Change her clothes because the fabric doesn’t fall right over her hips… Squint. Scrutinize. Judge. Watch. Fix. Fix. Fix. Because there are always imperfections. Always. I shudder to think of what the airbrush people say about me when the shoot is over.

  “You okay?” Sawyer rests a hand on my shoulder and I actually jump.

  “Sorry.” I shake my head. “Got lost for a minute.”

  “Man, I’m boring you already?” His brows go up, but his smile is teasing and once again I relax into being around him. “That’s not a good sign.”

  I really can’t have him feeling bad because I picked the worst time to zone out. “It’s all me.”

  And then his hand moves away, and it’s like static—the kind of electricity that tingles and leaves something warm in its path. Something I want to feel again.

  He grabs our drinks because he knows I always get the same thing, and we move to a table. “I was just saying that most of the time, people really love that I want to paint them. That’s all. And I’d like to think that I paint the feeling of the person rather than the actual person, but maybe that leaves them more exposed?”

  I think about what he said, and I have an answer, maybe. He sips his coffee and I sip my tea, and there’s something new and exciting that tickles at my nerves but also something that’s walking on the edges of okay and comfortable, and I can’t believe I’ve been panicking about this for days.

  “I’ve been dying to ask about your name. Story there?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” It’s the first time I’ve looked forward to sharing this story in a while. “My parents met when my dad was new in the Navy. And so he’s always been gone half the time. I was sort of their miracle baby.”

  He smiles, and his eyes never leave mine. I’m totally doing this—talking and sharing and enjoying it.

  “So,” I continue, “Honor has to do with the military thing, but also as in honor between couples since he’s gone so much. And Mom named me when he was gone and I was born, and she couldn’t get a hold of him to tell him he was a dad. I was supposed to be Jessica.”

  Sawyer’s eyes soften a little, but his gaze is no less direct. “And now it’s this cool thing that’s not just between your parents, but you too.”

  My heart squeezes because he gets it. Perfectly. “Yes. That’s exactly it.” And it makes me miss them both so much.

  Why was I so worried about talking with Sawyer?

  Chapter Six

  Toby

  Libby is walking in her usual bouncy superfast way so we can “save” Honor, and I’m panting to keep up. Suddenly she stops. She points to a pile of leaves and looks at me with her giant kid grin. I don’t even have to ask. I go tearing after her until the two of us jump into the huge pile. Libby laughs and grabs a handful of leaves and tucks it into my shirt. I grab her and roll her on her back and pin her down.

  She giggles and wiggles and I need to do something pretty quick or I’m going to embarrass myself. So I do the only thing I can think of, I dangle a loogie over her face until she squeals and then I slurp it back up.

  “Holy shit, Toby. I have totally rubbed off on you. That was incredible. You have to do that to Honor. She will freak out.” Libby’s eyes are all wild excitement, and her chest is moving up and down from her laughter. And I can’t stop myself from tracing my thumb along her bra strap. She sucks in a breath for a second, and we have a beat of a moment before she narrows her eyes.

  I roll off of her and laugh. “I used to do th
e loogie dangle to my little brothers to make them stop changing the channel on TV.”

  “I’m gonna start practicing that. I feel like it’s a pretty good skill to have.”

  We’re silent for too long and I wonder if things have gotten weird, but I look over at Libby and she’s tracing the clouds with her fingers.

  “Libby?”

  “I love fall. It’s such a perfect time of year. It’s like filled with hope and death all at the same time.”

  I chuckle. “That’s kind of dark.”

  She turns on her side and props her head on her elbow. “I can be like that. I mean I know you’ve seen kind of crazy me, but I can have a dark side too. I’m lots of flavors, Toby.”

  “Yeah. I believe that. So…were we going to find Honor?”

  Libby shoots up. “Fuck. Honor. She’s probably already screwed it up by now. I can’t believe you forced me to mess around in this leaf pile. We’ve got to move it.”

  She laughs again and goes running toward the coffeehouse. I’m completely out of breath and can’t figure out if it’s the running or just being around Libby. Before I reach the door, Libby holds up her hand for me to stop. She ducks behind a bench and pulls me next to her.

  “What are we doing?”

  She bobs her head up. “Look. There she is. And she’s actually talking to him, and he seems amused and I think this might be good. I mean, maybe we won’t need to rescue her.”

  I look through the giant glass window, and there’s Honor with her beautiful smile and her fidgeting hands, talking to a blond dude who is too good looking for me to even acknowledge.

  “That guy’s not a painter.”

  Libby laughs. “Do not pull your dick out right now. You need to get in chick mode. Our friend, who can’t seem to wrap her head around the fact that she is fucking awesome, is actually talking to a guy and not screwing it up.”

  I’m about to respond, but Libby hisses me quiet. And then we both see it. We both see the panicky weirdness cross Honor’s face and Libby springs up.

  “Crap. She’s floundering. Did you see that face? She’s about to fuck things up.”

  I know that face too. Honor’s going to bail. She’s going to stammer and bail. I saw her do the same thing last week at the Freshman Disco Ball. This guy started talking to her and suddenly, she crumpled and left the room. The guy was so stunned, he actually lifted his arm to sniff his pit like he was checking for BO.

  I’m on Libby’s heels as we cruise into the coffeehouse and make a beeline for Honor’s table.

  “Oh my God, Honor, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Libby says and gives me a look that says I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut. Which is fine. I usually do. “We have to get back to the dorm. Your mom called.”

  Honor stands and her face totally changes. Worry. Anxiety. “My mom? Is something wrong?”

  I glance past her at the “painter” and he’s staring at the two girls. Yeah, dude, I’ve thought it too. Good luck.

  “She said your brother just got in a bike accident, and she wants you to call. He’s fine but he won’t let the doctor give him stitches without you calling him first.”

  Total confusion crosses Honor’s face.

  “We better go,” I say. I don’t even bother acknowledging the painter. I grab Honor by the arm and tug her toward the door. She’s sputtering, but Libby is evidently going to stay behind to smooth things over. I turn back and see her getting comfortable in the chair across from the painter.

  “What the hell was that?” Honor says as soon as we get out of the coffeehouse. “And what is Libby doing with my…”

  I grin. “Your what?”

  “Shut up. Don’t tease me. What were you all doing?”

  I let go of her arm because I know this isn’t really a thing I can do without Libby around. She somehow makes things like that okay, and now that it’s just Honor and I, I don’t think the same rules apply.

  “We were rescuing you.”

  “From what?” Suddenly her eyes go wide. “Wait. Have you heard something about Sawyer?”

  I laugh. “No. Evidently not even from you.” Her cheeks burn red. I love when they do that. “We were rescuing you from yourself. You were getting the panic look. Did something happen? Did he say something?”

  Her eyes drift to the side. “No.”

  “Honor.”

  “Toby.”

  “Can I tell you something about guys?”

  She nods and kicks a rock on the sidewalk.

  “The panic face. The ‘I’m gonna hurl or bolt’ face. Not exactly a real confidence builder. You should maybe work on that. If you…well, I mean, I guess with anyone you might be interested in.”

  Did I say that out loud? Did I just leave that out there between the two of us? Right after I considered feeling Libby up in the leaves. I’m a mess. And I need to shut the hell up or the two best things that have happened to me since I left Nebraska are going to drop me.

  Honor looks at me. Hard. And now I know I’m blushing. I pull off my glasses and clean them on my T-shirt. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say something now or if she is. But before I can even decide, Libby’s loud voice and snorty laugh are right behind me.

  “It is way too early in the game for either of the two of you to consider fucking. Trust me on this. It’ll ruin us and I like how we are right now. So you’re both going to need to hold that thought for a little bit longer. Until I get sick of the two of you. Or you get sick of me. Now stop looking at each other like that and let’s get off campus. I have a plan.”

  Chapter Seven

  Honor

  I still feel Toby’s gaze in my gut, and Libby’s words leave a weight on top of it. I can’t believe I froze in front of Sawyer again. And when everything was going so well. And I didn’t mean to look at Toby in any particular way, I only know that he’s safe and that I like him—it’s just the kind of “like” that’s hard for me to quantify.

  Toby’s safe because I can talk to him about whatever since Libby just says anything she wants to. Anything I say will be tame in comparison. And then I also have to recognize that probably the only reason I like Toby is for his safeness, not because I like him in that way.

  Libby’s arm slides around my waist in her friendly way, and I laugh a little because she feels more like datable material than Toby does.

  Of course Sawyer feels dangerous for wholly different reasons. Namely that I don’t understand what he sees in me, and I’m just waiting for him to say, “Yeah. You’re just a pretty face. Nothing more. Sorry it didn’t work out.” Because he might be as hot as the guys I’ve dated, but he’s lacking the asshole quality I’m used to, which is refreshing, but also makes me mistrust him a little.

  “So, what do you think?” Libby’s panting, the words came out so fast. The ones that I completely missed.

  “I, uh…” I stammer and glance at Toby, hoping he caught some of that.

  “That’s just a party, Libby. Not a plan.”

  She takes two dramatic steps, demonstrating how slow we are as she rolls her head along with her eyes. “Ugh… No. It’s a party that will seem spontaneous but will be planned. I think that if Honor just had a beer or two, she’d lose the freak-out factor that keeps her from moving forward. I’ve done some checking up on this Sawyer guy at the art department, and he’s the real deal. Serious talent, and no one has anything horrible to say about him. Sort of amazing, really, when you think about how in-sane-ly hot he is.”

  The art department? Are there people on campus that Libby doesn’t know?

  And then I wince when the idea of her wanting to see me hammered files into my brain, knowing that the few times I have had something to drink, it didn’t turn out well. And I’m not sure if I wanted to know that Sawyer might be as perfect as he seems, because that would make me more afraid than I should be. “Not a good idea, I—”

  But my phone beeps in a text, and I grab it, thankful for the interruption of Libby’s plans.

  Skype
with your father in 4 min!

  My heart leaps and I take off toward the dorms.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Libby yells as she chases me.

  “My dad’s in the Navy. We don’t talk much. Skype,” I gasp as I slam into the dorm doors, scan my card through the security slot, and run inside. After telling Sawyer about my dad and my name, and all the time Libby, Toby and I spend together, I really want to talk for a while.

  Both Toby and Libby are on my tail, and as I step into our room, I have no idea how to tell them I want to be alone.

  I drop my bag, flip open my computer, login, and my parents are both there, waiting.

  “There’s my girl!” Dad’s smile is enormous, as always. His haircut is military short. Captain Priest of the USS Charleston, Navy Destroyer.

  “Hey, honey!” Mom waves so fast that her picture blurs.

  “Mom just told me the news, and I’m not sure if it’s good or bad.” Dad sighs, and my face flames. “At the very least, it seems like a great opportunity.”

  No. No. No. God. No. We can’t talk about this now. I glance frantically behind me and try to wave Libby and Toby out of the room, but they’re frozen, staring at the screen.

  “Honor?” Dad asks.

  “Um, sorry. Yeah.” I shake my head like I’m being silly. “So school is going really well. I’m gearing up for midterms and all that right now.” And I can’t catch my breath because I really can’t have them utter the words—

  “Victoria’s Secret!” Mom beams. “That Megan Fox girl was replaced by a Victoria’s Secret model for the Transformer movie. Them asking for you to audition is the start of something big. I can feel it.”

  Humiliation whooshes through me, leaving me dizzy and weak. “It’s not for sure.” I stumble over my words.

  “Well, like I said,” Dad says and smiles again, “I’m proud of you no matter what. Even though the thought of it weirds your old dad out a little.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble, really wishing our conversation hadn’t been tainted with the stupid call to my agent from Victoria’s Secret.