Page 82 of Sawyer

“Look, Sin, is it?” Freddy’s false sense of courage only stems from the fact that he thinks I picked his application. I didn’t. “Sawyer picked me, and she has no bite marks.”

“I didn’t pick you,” I whisper, feeling like I’m going to pay for saying that. Sometimes, when something happens, I just know something terrible will come from that action.

This is one of those times.

Freddy shuts down. He doesn’t lash out, even though he’s an emotional person, and he says nothing. Even his scent disappears. “I’ll see you for our date, Sawyer. Don’t be late.”

His chair flops over as he stands, and he walks off without looking back.

“That was weird, wasn’t it?” I question.

“I’m going to kill him,” Sin says, and it’s more than just a statement. It’s a promise I’d bet my life on.

“My brother set this up last week.” My heart hurts.

How could he?

“Sawyer.” Bryn grabs my hand again and brushes a kiss on my knuckles. “Bond with me.”

My throat dries up, and my blood roars in my ears. “Not like this,” I whisper. “Not when there’s no other choice.”

And there it is, the words I wanted this morning, and I am denying them only hours later.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“We should get going,” Rumor says, standing up and reaching for my hand.

“I just need to use the restroom.” I step away, only for Rumor to try and follow me. Rolling my eyes, I press him back. “I’m not going anywhere this time.” Whatever expression he sees, he gives me a nod.

I dash to the ladies’ room as quickly as I can.

No, I’m not running away. As I enter the stall, I tug my phone out and slip out the sim card, ignoring all the messages on the screen. I toss the sim in the toilet and do my business.

Damn right I peed on that thing.

The small act of secret revenge gives me the serotonin boost I crave.

When I’m done, and my hands are washed, I toss the phone in the trash and don’t look back.

Stubbornness drives my steps forward. May the fates help anyone who dares to get in my way.

Sawyer

The calm before the storm.

There’s an eerie silence that occurs before a storm, where all sound disappears and wildlife flees an area.

Every instinct in my body screams at me to run, hide, and never look back.

Nothing has even happened yet.

It’s a sixth sense that tells me something might occur—a warning, a precursor to an event that will fundamentally change me.

“Are you all right?” Bryn looks up at me from his plate of pasta, one hand unconsciously spinning the fork around and around.

“No,” I admit, but I can’t quite tell him what it is. After we left the camping store, a trip that was thankfully uneventful, a strange sensation has continued to itch at the base of my spine.

“You’ve been quiet since—”

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