Page 67 of Sinful as They Come
Sawyer chuckled at me, dropping the peas to the table again. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What?” I frowned.
“I get it. You feel bad for me. My dad beats the shit outta me and I have no money and I live in a literal trailer park. I don’t need your fucking pity, Holly. I don’t need anyone’s pity, but I especially don’t need yours.”
“I’m being honest!” Did he think I didn’t mean what I was saying? “Your art is really good. And out of all the painters who are working on this project, you’re the most talented. I’m not saying that because of all of this stuff with your dad, I’m saying it because it’s the truth.”
Sawyer shrugged lazily. “None of that means shit to me, Holly.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know you hate me and everything, but even I canadmit that you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
He just rose his dark eyebrows up at me when I said that. I cautiously handed the melting bag of peas his way, watching as he slowly took the packet, his eyes still stuck on me. He didn’t press the cold bag to his face and instead held it tightly. No. He just… looked at me. The way he was gazing at me was making me nervous.
“You should go home before my dad gets here,” he finally whispered. “I’ll get Brodie to take a photo of one of my paintings and send it to you. I just finished a new one the other day. Use that. I don’t care what you write, or if you don’t write anything at all.”
“Will you be okay? You know, you don’t have to stay here. You and Brodie. You don’t have to—"
“I’ve been dealing with this my whole life,” he cut me off. “Don’t lose any sleep over it.”
“Maybe I can help,” I mumbled, but I had no idea how I would achieve that.
Sawyer gave me a small grin. “And how are you gonna do that?”
I had no answer for him, really. But he didn’t deserve to be scared in his own home. “I don’t know. I’m just saying you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
“Yeah? And what about you?” he asked with a sharp nod.
My eyes narrowed at his question. “What about me?”
“What about yourperfectlife, Holly?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m pretty happy with my life.”
Sawyer said nothing for a moment. “What about Carter?”
“What about him?” The other night at Alden Lake flashed in my head, and I felt shame rise up in me. I knew what Sawyer was getting at, but I didn’t want him to get at it to begin with.
Sawyer looked at me seriously. “Do you actually like that asshole?”
“Look…” I sighed. “Carter’s a nice guy. You two… You two just clash. You two have nothing in common. It makes sense that you don’t get along. You’re an artist and he’s a football player. You’re just too different.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“Do you actuallylikethat asshole?”
“Of course I do,” I insisted. Why was he interrogating me? “I don’t just like him. I love him. A lot.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Why are you bringing him up all of a sudden?”
Sawyer sucked in a quick, sharp breath. “What about the other night?”
I prayed for a black hole to form right then and there in Sawyer’s kitchen. Maybe it could suck me up and take me far, far away from his questioning stare. “What about it?”
“Does he always treat you like that?”
