I flip her off and she gasps. “Wow, first you ditch the cashmere”—she nods to my dark jeans and black heeled boots—“and now this.” She studies me hard. “Where’s your necklace?”
“I guess I outgrew it.” My hand itches to reach for the pendant that’s sat near my collarbone for five years. “You’re in the presence of karaoke royalty,” I say to change the subject.
Kat grins. “Nice to meet you. I can slay any song.”
“I thought you were the one in performing arts?” Emma asks Jules, confused.
“I am. She’s the one with the attention crisis.”
We find a table in the back of the bar and order beers. The room is dark and packed.
I sneak another look at my phone—nothing new from Sawyer, or from Madison.
It’s the weekend, so I doubt she’s reporting us today, but next week is fall reading week which means plenty of time to turn us in.
“I’m not sure I want to do this,” Emma says, looking around.
“It’s karaoke, not a death sentence. You’ve been thrown twenty feet in the air for cheerleading stunts,” I remind her. “It’s about believing in yourself and trying new things. So let’s have fun.”
“Give it a shot,” Kat tells Emma.
My sister does.
Taylor Swift’s song, “All Too Well,” comes over the speakers.
While Emma’s up there singing a breakup song that hits a little too close to home, Jules leans over. “What happened this weekend?”
I drum my fingers on the tabletop, not quite hitting the beat. “I learned Sawyer has a type, and apparently I’m it.”
Emma hits a high note. It’s not close to being on key, but she goes for it.
“Before he left New York, that got him in trouble. It’s the reason he walked away from his company.”
“And when you asked him about it, he said…” Jules trails off and I reach for my drink.
The beer is cool on my tongue, the sweetness cutting into the hops.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? He likes wanting what he shouldn’t.”
I down the rest of the beer then shift out of my seat and head to the bar for a refill.
We never talked about an exclusive relationship, and whatever went down is in the past. But it bothers the hell out of me because I thought what we had was special.
The bartender fulfills my order and I’m turning back when another figure heading for the exit runs into me.
The three glasses I’m carrying spill, beer splashing up my arms and onto my clothes before the glasses tumble to the dirty carpet.
“Shit, I’m…” Madison starts, before taking me in. “Oh, it’s you.”
For a moment I think she’s going to keep walking, but she grabs one of the empty beer glasses and carries it to the bar, returning with a wad of napkins.
What is it with me getting soaked with alcohol lately?
I take some napkins from her, wiping at my shirt. “You look good.”
The girl in question’s hair is curled, and she’s wearing heels.
“I’m on a date with a guy I met online. It’s not going to work out.”
The damp fabric sticks to my skin when I release it. “Sorry.”
“Whatever. Are you stalking me?” she demands as I collect the remaining glasses and carry them to the bar.
“I’m here with my roommates and my sister.”
“She’s the one waking every cat in town?” Madison nods to the stage. “She better not be doing Taylor’s Version. Not sure I can handle ten minutes of this.”
My lips twitch. “I had no idea you were here. Have you told anyone about Professor Redmond?”
She makes a face. “Haven’t had a chance.”
The bartender pushes new drinks toward us. I pull out a twenty, but he waves me off. I stuff the cash in the tip jar instead while Madison watches.
“If you talk, they’ll keep him from supervising. Which would mean we’d have to forfeit, right after we got through regionals.”
“We barely got through regionals. We still have to pass the project justification before winter break.”
“I thought that was pretty much guaranteed.”
Madison shakes her head. “I heard this year, they’re cracking down. They want to filter out even more teams so the top few get more attention in California. If we can’t prove our idea will change the world in a real way, we won’t get to compete at finals.”
This is big. I thought we had a clear path to the finals of Stars, but this is a new roadblock.
“Whatever shit you and Redmond have going on hanging over our heads…” she goes on, “it’s not fair, but more than that if what I saw in New York is any indication? It’s volatile.”
Emma finishes her song and jumps off stage. My roommates clap, and I do too.
“But if you tell,” I say under my breath, “don’t you think that will screw things up more?”
Madison steps in front of me, expression dark. “Yes. Me telling will mess up everything.”
The twisting feeling in my stomach hardens into resolve. “You’re right. I put our team at risk by what happened with Professor Redmond. But we can’t give up on the Stars competition. We need this.”
Her gaze drops to my throat, as if she’s remembering what I gave up so we could get through regionals.
“Tell me it’s over between you.”
Sawyer’s grin flashes before my eyes.
His voice, a low murmur for my ears alone.
His thumb stroking under my shirt when he kisses me like everything is right in the world as long as I’m in his arms.
My phone feels hot in my pocket, his unanswered texts burning into my skin as I fight the tightness in my chest.
“We’re over.”
2
Sawyer
“If this is you fixing up the place, you’re watching the wrong YouTube videos.”
I look up at Daniel, who’s standing over me while I rip boards off the porch.
“I figured fuck the flower beds. Time to work on the big things and get this house sold.”
The sun beats down, sweat rolling into my eyes.
It’s Monday, and for the first time in weeks, I haven’t been at the front of a lecture hall, stealing looks at the student who’s stolen a piece of me.
I yank the final board off the top, tossing it toward the pile at the end. The nail still embedded in it catches the corner of the house, scratching the woodwork on the windowsill and barely missing the glass.
Daniel coughs and I ignore him.
“Need a saw to get started on the new boards.”
He hesitates but then jerks his head across the road.
I follow him that way and into the house.
“You keep your saw in your sunroom?”
“I’m not giving you a saw in this state. You were working on that last night, and you’re still there. What’s up?”
The room is too small, and I pace the well-worn floors. I’m not a “spill my guts” guy, but he’s always been there for me like I’ve been there for him. And I need to tell someone.
“Olivia’s a student.”