Page 35 of Liar
The sounds of metal clinking on porcelain caused me to turn my head and glance at Travis. He’d shoveled a forkful of noodles into his mouth, having pushed aside the chicken on his plate. His black hair was combed to the side, the tattoos on his chest peeking out under the collar of his dark t-shirt. He swallowed and said, “The noodles are still good.”
Declan was slow to shrug and say, “I like noodles.” He ate some, as if testing to see if Travis was right and the noodles were indeed edible. With a full mouth, he said, “He’s right. They are good.”
The tension in the room was high, and maybe that was why I burst out laughing. We’d all put too much pressure onto tonight, and we shouldn’t have. That was our mistake. This should’ve been nothing more than friends hanging out, not a dinner to impress.
“Eat,” I told them, slowly getting up. “I’m going to drag down the pouty one.” Each and every one of their eyes watched me as I walked around the table and left the kitchen. My feet took me to the stairs, and for a quick moment I was thrown for a loop of deja vu.
All the times I’d been in this house. When I came to the parties and started drama. When I came to fuck with Sawyer—and that time I came to actually fuck him, but he was too high or drunk. Staying in this house while Ray was stalking the streets, with my feet in bandages after walking so long on them. When I was taken against the front door by Travis, and then in the bed with Declan…
This house held a lot of memories, and hopefully it would hold more.
I spotted Sawyer sitting on his bed, and again my mind played back memories. Me, going upstairs with him at that first party. Him, sitting on the side of the bed, almost exactly where he was now, grabbing my wrists and pulling me close, holding me there even when I told him no. He’d been drunk, but that was no excuse. That was my first peek at the broken boy that was Sawyer Salvatore.
Now, now I knew him. Now I knew what guilt he carried on those shoulders. A very similar feeling to how I viewed everything Ray did. Sawyer thought it was his fault for Sabrina’s death, if he would’ve answered her calls and her texts the day before, she never would’ve died. Hell, maybe if he’d been with her, Dean Briggs would’ve seen him in the house and decided against his plan. Maybe Sabrina would still be alive, and I’d never be here, at Hillcrest, trying to reunite these ex-friends.
I stepped into the bedroom, so quiet Sawyer didn’t hear me. Or maybe he was too lost in his own head to pay attention to the world around him. Again, I knew what that was like. It was hell, pure and simple, when you were drowning in your racing thoughts and didn’t know how to stop them.
The difference between me and him was that I wanted to help him. I wanted to be there for him. If he could not stand on his own, I would be his crutch.
I moved in front of him, standing less than a foot away from his knees. “Hey,” I spoke softly, causing his green eyes to slowly turn up to me. I noticed his shirt was unbuttoned halfway, the smooth plane of muscles on his chest visible and alluring in every single way. He must’ve messed up his hair, for his short blonde locks stuck every which way. The expression sitting in his emerald eyes was one of sorrow.
He’d come back from rehab better, but he wasn’t whole. He couldn’t be. Learning to live with yourself while holding such guilt took time…but maybe we could learn to do it together.
“I thought you were leaving,” he muttered, his lips drawn into a frown. Hell, I’d take a typical Sawyer smirk over the expression he currently wore—and that said a lot.
“I never said I was, or that I wanted to,” I told him, inching closer. “It’s okay that you didn’t cook the chicken right. The other guys are downstairs, eating your noodles.” I lightly pushed his shoulder, giving him a grin. “You didn’t mess everything up.”
I’d meant to be playful, to be comforting, but he just looked so…sad. So lost. So depressed and miserable.
Without the parties, without the drinking and the drugs, without the constant string of girls in his bed, without his friends and his sister…what did he have?
“It’s not just about the chicken,” he said, hardly moving his lips as he spoke. “It’s about everything. Even when I try, I fuck up. I don’t…I want to be good, but I—I’m afraid it’s impossible.”
I went to sit beside him, leaning against him as if I could hold him up, prop him up and steer him away from the cliff he teetered on. “It’s not impossible, but it is hard.”
Sawyer was quiet for a while, and I thought it was because he was listening to me, thinking about what I said, but when he opened his mouth next, he proved me wrong, “You deserve better than me.”
Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever heard five words that hurt as much.
They hurt me because I hated how low he thought of himself. I had fucked up too; I was on no pedestal here, and yet he acted as if I was an angel sent from God himself.
“Do you think everyone downstairs is perfect?” I asked, causing his head to turn to look at me. “Do you think I’m perfect?”
His eyes fell to my mouth for a split-second, and then he had to look away again.
“They’re not, and I sure as hell ain’t, either.” My shoulders rose and fell with a single breath, and I hated what I was about to say, but that didn’t stop me from asking, “Do you want to know what I did after that Halloween party?”
“You went with your ex,” he muttered. It was ridiculous how handsome he was, even with his wide shoulders slumped.
“Yeah, but I didn’t just go with him.” Tonight was a night of reliving painful memories, and when the next batch flashed in the back of my mind, I felt sick. “I slept with him. More than once. And unlike you, I wasn’t drunk or high. I knew what I was doing, and I did it anyway. The point is, I’m not perfect. No one in this house is. If you think you’re not good enough for us, for me, you’re wrong. I don’t want you to be perfect, Sawyer.”
It was true. I didn’t want a perfect Sawyer. I just wanted him.
“I want you at your best and your worst, because that’s how you’ll get me. That’s life. Nothing is perfect. Bad shit always happens, but as long as we deal with it together, everything will be okay,” I said, sounding worlds more confident than I felt.
Deep down, I was scared. This was all new to me. Ray had been my world for so long, and then it was always nightmares and panic, a false bravado. I’d never had multiple boyfriends before, never had to navigate drama like this.
I thought I did pretty well, considering that.
