“And I’m in your art class.”
I blink at him. “You are?”
“I am,” he confirms, leaning to turn the heat down on the burner. “I’m the one who made that phenomenal sculpture of a castle last week.”
“A castle?” I ask, giving him a blank look.
“Yup. It was brown? And had spires? And turrets?”
“That was a castle?” I say, suddenly remembering. “I thought it was a porcupine. You must be going through an abstract period.”
“Something like that,” he says, grinning as he gives the sauce a stir. “I’m not much of an artist.”
“Well, I wouldn’t beat yourself up about it. I’m sure there’s a porcupine-shaped castle somewhere in the world.”
He laughs. “I know alotabout castles, and I haven’t come across one yet.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, starting to unpack the box of cans. “Why, are you secretly the prince of some tiny country just pretending to be an American high school student for security reasons?”
“Yes,” he says with a laugh. “But don’t feel like you have to call me Prince Sawyer or anything like that. Your Royal Highness will do just fine.”
“Seriously.”
“Seriously? I’m kind of a history nerd,” he says, looking a little embarrassed. “I’ve been tracing my family roots to a castle back in Scotland, and I’m saving up for a trip there after I graduate.”
“If you’re trying to save, shouldn’t you get a job that pays something?”
He drops the spoon and turns to me with mock horror. “You mean I’m not getting paid here?” he asks, starting to untie his apron. “Well, this is a complete outrage.”
I laugh, stepping in to pick up the spoon, which is starting to sink in the bubbling sauce. “Don’t worry, this place has some other things going for it.”
Sawyer refastens his apron. “Such as?”
“Well,” I say, looking over his shoulder as Mary approaches. “You couldn’t ask for a better supervisor.”
“She’d be a lot better if she trusted me with the sauce,” Sawyer says, and to my surprise Mary reaches up to give his shoulder a quick punch.
“Sorry,” she says, winking at me. “Gotta keep my grandson in line.”
Sawyer rolls his eyes at me good-naturedly, then passes her a spoonful of the sauce. “What do you think?”
“Not too salty for once.” Mary glances over at me with a hint of a smile. “You must’ve distracted him.”
“We were just talking,” Sawyer says quickly, but his face has turned a deep red, and he looks relieved when Mary heads off to check on the pasta.
As I set to work opening up more cans of sauce, I can feel his eyes on me. But it’s a few minutes before he gathers the nerve to say anything.
Finally, he clears his throat. “I thought of another.”
“Another what?”
“Job perk.”
“Yeah?” I say, looking up at him, and something about the way he’s watching me makes my stomach flutter.
“Yeah,” he says with a little smile. “Good company.”
Later, once the food has been served and the kitchen cleaned up, Sawyer suggests we get a cup of coffee, and just as I’m about to say no, I realize to my surprise that I kind of want to say yes. So I do.
