Page 66 of Sinful as They Come
I moved to the small kitchen and flung open the freezer door. It was borderline empty. There was a bag of frozen peas, a half empty bag of frozen carrots, and what looked like sausages. It was so nosy of me, but I was tempted to open the bottom door. I was suddenly hit with a question I had never really thought about: was Sawyer eating? Like, proper meals with his five serves of vegetables and fruits every day?
Maybe it was none of my business. I shook my head and grabbed the cold bag of peas. Turning around, the first thing I noted was Sawyer’s eyes on me. Dark, brooding eyes. Was he mad at me for trying to help? He was slumped in one of the kitchen chairs, an elbow resting lazily on the table, his legs splayed open.
“Here.” I moved over to him. “For your eye.”
“I don’t need it,” Sawyer said with a casual shrug.
“Yes, you do. Come on. This can help with the swelling.”
“Holly, I don’t want the fuckin’ green beans.”
“They’re peas.”
“Same thing.”
“Don’t be stubborn.”
“I’m not being stubborn. You’re the one standing in my home uninvited.” He stood up suddenly.
“I have a reason for being here. Now, peas.”
My hand was up against his chest before he could fight me back. Giving him a slight shove, Sawyer fell back into the chair. Then I pressed the cold bag to his eye. I winced when he did, but soon he seemed to relax under my touch.
“Well, what’s your reason?” Sawyer mumbled.
I tilted my head at him. “Hm?”
“What’s your reason for being here?”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat a little. “We were supposed to do that interview, remember? You know, about your painting…”
Sawyer sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah, I was a little busy this afternoon.”
“I didn’t know. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have come here… I mean… I… Are you okay?” I finally asked.
Sawyer grabbed my wrist suddenly, forcing me to lower the peas. Using his other hand, he grabbed the green bag and tossed it to the table with a little thud. But his hand was still on my wrist, holding me in place in front of him. His touch wasn’t rough or angry, but it was firm.
“I don’t wanna be here,” he said lowly. “This… This is not the life I want. I paint where I wanna be. And I paint where I think I belong. And I paint literally anything that isn’t my life, because… because this is not how I want things to be. My dad is a drunk. This right here? This black eye? This isn’t even the worst of it. Fuck, this is him on a good day. But I’m used to it. The bruises, the blood. That’s a normal occurrence here. But I don’t want this to be my forever. I want out. Big cities, the ocean, rolling hills. Everything out there. Anything but here. Anything but this place. That’s why I paint all of it. I see it in my head, ‘cause I want it that bad. I paint what I want and what I need… But… But I know I’m not gonna get there. What the hell am I gonna do when school ends? I’ll probably still be here, in this shitty, little trailer with my drunk dad who doesn’t know what day it is. I’ll keep fixing cars, and I’ll keep dreaming of places where I feel like I belong, but… like I said, I don’t think I’m gonnaget there.”
It was then that Sawyer finally let go of my wrist. He picked the bag of peas back up, moving it to his swollen eye before he leaned back in his chair. I could have sworn my lips trembled a little at his words. That had been more than unexpected.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted.
“You?” Sawyer smiled. It wasn’t a smirk or a condescending grin. No. It was just a genuine smile. “Holly Sutton doesn’t know what to say?”
“I just… No, yeah, I really don’t know what to say to… to…”
“To what?”
“To make you feel better.”
Sawyer scoffed and avoided my eyes for a second. “You don’t have to say anything to me. There aren’t any magic words to make me feel better or change my life.”
“You could get a scholarship,” I suggested shyly. My afternoon had gone from me being mad at Sawyer to giving him a sudden pep talk. “And you could study whatever you wanted and get out of here and have the life you want.”
“In all the years you’ve known me, when have I ever even given off the vibe that I wanna go to college?”
“I know. It’s just… Your art’s really good, and I’m sure you could do something with your talent. Maybe that could lead to something?”
