Page 96 of Sawyer and the Bookworms

“We’re here!” She pull-shoves me out, and we stumble down the steps and onto the sidewalk right before the bus drives away. “Sorry about that. Lost track of time for a minute.”

Yeah. I’d lost track of time, place, and reality, stuck on the feel of her beside me, the memory of her lips, and my own troubles.

“This way.” She starts down a side street and I follow her, glancing around. It’s a shabby neighborhood, but I can’t decide if it’s dangerous or not.

My phone is buzzing in my pocket, and I realize it’s been buzzing for a while now. I take it out to find three texts and a missed call, all from an unknown number.

Frowning, I open one of the texts. It reads, ‘This is Roman. Just checking that you got her home all right.’

The other messages are variations of the same.

I type, ‘Where did you get my number?’

The reply comes instantly ‘From Bee. We’re at your café. Are you staying with Brinlee tonight?’

I stare at the text. Hesitate. Then I open my stride to catch up with Brinlee who’s stopped and is staring at me.

“Problem?” she asks.

“No. Just the guys checking to see we made it home all right.”

Something shifts in her expression. A wistfulness. “It’s right around the corner.”

I nod. Take her hand again.

Let Roman stew for a while. Besides, am I staying the night? I have no answer to that myself.

She stops in front of a façade so covered in graffiti I can’t tell what the original paint color was. Using a key, she opens the building door, and we troop inside. She hits the switch and a light flickers overhead. It continues flickering as we go up the stairs to the second landing.

There she unlocks another door, and we enter her apartment.

I’m in a bit of a daze, hardly able to believe I’m here, with her. I step into a tiny living room, the kitchenette on one side, a ratty sofa, and threadbare curtains on the sole window. There’s no TV, no paintings or photos on the walls. No decoration. It’s sad and desolate, and yet she lights the place up. All the colors, that’s her, all the movement, all the light.

As she moves to the sofa, plopping her bag on a plastic table in a corner, she makes the place look like Christmas.

Goddammit, I’ve never been so crazy about someone before.

So crazy, period. Off my rocker. Doing the exact thing I told myself I wouldn’t do. Why am I still here, getting closer to her, when I need to choose one of the packs my parents selected for me?

This is an impossible situation. She’s here now, she’s safe.

“Brin, listen.” I stop as she sits down on the sofa. “Now you’re here, I?—”

“Come sit with me,” she says.

And my feet lead me to her. My logic says I should leave, but my body has other ideas. I sit down beside her, and she kicks off her shoes and curls up against me.

“Tell me about yourself,” she whispers.

More bad ideas. In for a penny, in for a pound. I lift an arm, and she snuggles under it. I wrap it around her. “Comfortable?” I ask. “You took off that corset, right?”

She giggles. “I did. You must hate the way I dress for the club.”

“No, I… I like you.”

“It, you mean. The costume.”

“I don’t care about costumes,” I say honestly. “I like you, any and every way you are.”

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