Page 22 of Infatuated as They Come
“I’m excited for you. And you’ll be less than two hours away from New York. That means I can come and annoy you whenever I like.”
“You never annoy me. I could drive over and see you guys too. I still can’t believe Sawyer gave me his truck…”
“You’re gonna be okay driving all the way up to Boston? That’s a long drive.”
“It’s gonna be so cool, though. I’ve never really travelled. Me and Lucas are gonna stop in Nashville along the way and go to the Country Hall of Fame.” He gave me a little fist pump. “Patsy Cline exhibition, here I come.”
“That sounds really fun,” I said, my mind still rushing with the awful memories of what had happened earlier. My hand lowered, finding the necklace Sawyer had given me, my fingers squeezing at the round, crystal pendant. Out of all the gifts I had been given that day, it was my favorite. It was my favorite giftever, really.
For a minute, I wondered what my dad would say if he knew I was sitting on a twin size bed in a cheap motel in what he’d label the “bad part of town.” Sawyer had picked a place close to the airport called The Satellite Motel. The room was on the smaller side, with two twin beds up against the wall that were taking up most of the space. In front of us sat a black mini fridge next to a slightly damaged dresser, and on top of that was a small, old school TV.
It would make the journey to the airport shorter for Sawyer, but we had more than a few empty guest rooms at home that could rival the mostexpensive hotels on comfort alone. I had tried to convince Sawyer to letmeconvince my parents to let him and Brodie stay over for a few nights. My mom wouldn’t have cared, but my dad? The thought was almost enough to make me wince. Sawyer had insisted that they stay at the motel, anyway.
“You should have thrown rocks at his dad or something,” Brodie said, bringing me out of my thoughts.
I laughed lowly. “I should have.”
Brodie patted a hand against my knee. “You’re not used to his dad. Or the rest of our fucked up family. I guess it was all new for you, but don’t worry, you guys are gonna be outta here soon. Sawyer doesn’t have to deal with that anymore.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “I just wish he didn’t have to deal with it in the first place.”
Sawyer had been so quiet on the ride over. I had been curious about what had taken place in the five minutes he had been inside his home. Whatever had happened had been enough for him to stay completely silent as we picked up Brodie then found the motel.
If it was anything like what his dad said to me, then it was bad.She’s gonna leave eventually. Every word had been so needlessly cruel. And then there was my dad who wasn’t any better.
“You guys should have just let me pay for a hotel,” I said. “We can still go find one…”
“No, that’s okay. Me and Sawyer would never let you do that, anyway.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Yeah, I know. You’re both really annoying about stuff like that, especially him. He won’t even tell me when his birthday is. Unless…”
One arm waving in front of him, Brodie shook his head. “He specifically told me not to tell you.”
I groaned. “Tell me what to do to get it out of you.”
“I promised I wouldn’t tell him,” Brodie said, raising a hand to his chest. “And I can’t break a promise.”
“You’re the worst. The both of you.”
“The Westbrooks just aren’t birthday people.”
“Mhm. When’s yours?”
“You know it’s in summer.”
“When in summer?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“Brodie,” I said with a little groan.
“Don’t worry about it.” He chuckled. “And you know what? I love it here. It’s got an air conditioner. Bed’s pretty comfy. Got a nice TV as well.” Picking up the remote, he turned the TV on. The picture was a little fuzzy, but through that I could still see vibrant images. Brodie kept clicking the remote, humming as every channel seemed to show the exact same thing. “All it seems to play isLooney Tunesepisodes, but I don’t mind that at all.” Turning to me, he flashed me a shy smile. “Do you mind? I can try and fix it.”
I tapped his leg the way he did to mine earlier. “Not at all.Looney Tunesit is.”
Sawyer came back fifteen minutes later with some food and drinks. The three of us all squeezed together on the same bed, eating pizza and sipping on soda and watching grainy, crackly oldLooney Tunesepisodes before Sawyer banged the side of the TV and made the picture all clear.
All I could think about was how simple and easy and comforting it was. That was how it had been with Sawyer all summer. Lovely, little moments where we were just together. Out in the late afternoon sun after a blistering hot day, just sitting together in the countryside. Or back at Alden Lake, where we got to stare up at the moon and count all the stars in the sky. Or spending time at his place, lying down on his bed while he kissed me, his touch all gentle and calming. And while there were still some days where I still couldn’t quite believe that it was Sawyer Westbrook of all people making me feel that way, I still didn’t ever want to change a thing. Those moments were always more than enough, and so was he. I hoped he knew that.
