Page 73 of Infinite as They Come
“You want some? You have to experience this with me too,” I said.
Still, I just got a little grunt in response. Drink in hand, I let the straw find my mouth, and I could see it from the corner of my eye. Sawyer. Hand. Phone. Again.
I frowned, then immediately told myself to stop it. He was allowed to use his phone. He was allowed to talk to people on said phone. I told myself to forget it. To move on. He was probably textinghis mom, and who was I to get in the way of that?
“I gotta make a quick phone call, princess,” he said.
Spinning on his heels, he pressed his phone to his ear fast, like he had been on edge the whole time.
And I was left standing there with my half-filled cup of the worst lemonade I had ever tasted in my life. My shoe twisted into the cement, watching as Sawyer kept his back to me, his face unreadable and hidden. I stood there for a good twenty minutes in the sun, skin getting too warm and heart beating too fast before he finally joined me again.
“Was that your mom?” I asked.
“Hm?”
“Is she okay? I hope Spencer’s alright.”
“It’s nothing,” he said.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
Nodding, my fingers toyed with the straw of my drink, swishing it around a little. “If you wanna leave, we can just go.”
His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You seem like you don’t really wanna be here,” I said. “Like you’re somewhere else. So, if you just wanna go back to the motel, we can. I don’t want you to be bored all day with me.”
His eyes softened at that. “I’m not bored. I’m just…”
“Just?”
His hands pushed through his hair. “It’s nothing.”
Nothing. He kept using that word, and the vagueness of it all was annoying me more than I cared to admit. “We can leave,” I offered. “It’s fine. I don’t even really like this place, anyway.”
Suddenly, he halted, like his whole body had stiffened from that sentence alone. “What?” he asked.
“There’s gross lemonade and dolls that look like they’ll stab you while you shower,” I muttered, eyes on the ground. “How’s anyone supposed to sleep around here?”
There was a pause. A too long one, and it all felt stupid, like we were aboutto fight about something we shouldn’t have even been fighting about in the first place. Our eyes met, and I could have sworn I saw a flash of pain behind his own. I shouldn’t have said that. I found myself wincing, fingers pressed to my temples. He had gone out of his way to drive me some place nice, to take me somewhere special, and I went and said that like some spoiled brat.
“I—” I began, but Sawyer cut me off before I could say sorry.
“I get it,” he said, voice gruff. “You’re probably used to New York now.”
Brows pulling together, my head shook. “That’s not what I meant.”
“This place isn’t Highland Park either. No mansions around here, I don’t think,” he said, turning his head to eye the buildings on the other side of the street.
I eyed him closely. “I didn’t mean that either. You know that. You know I don’t care about that sort of stuff.”
“Right. I get it.”
“You sound like you don’t believe me.”
“I believe you.”
