“You don’t need to apologize. I was just … surprised.”
“We had a thing last summer, and I thought it was over. I never expected him to dance with me or kiss me in front of everyone.”
“Wren, seriously. It’s fine. You don’t owe me any explanation. I’ll just have to find a new crush now that I know Cap is super straight and super into you.” Aaron blows on his coffee. “Also, I’m now realizing that flirting with you was the worst possible strategy to get Cap to like me.”
I wince. “We’re not actually dating or anything. I’m not sure he cares?—”
“He cares enough to be walking over here, looking pissed,” Aaron interrupts.
I glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, Sawyer is stalking this way. And he does appear irritated.
“Gibson,” he barks. “Ken Thompson needs help launching from the ramp.”
“Headed there now, Cap,” Aaron says, then beelines toward the marina.
Sawyer continues toward me. I feel a little like prey, if prey is ever seized with the urge to kiss its predator. I understand now why Sawyer was worried how I’d react to him punching another guy. But I’ve never felt the least bit unsafe around him.
“Who was the guy?” he asks.
I raise my eyebrows. “Aaron Gibson. You’ve worked with him all summer.”
He’s in no mood for jokes, it seems. “Who was therichguy, in the parking lot?”
“Flynn Parks. He’s best friends with my cousin Kit.”
“Are you sleeping with him?”
“Wh—” I’m too surprised to finish the question. “What? That’s?—”
“I swear to God, Wren, if you say it’s none of my business?—”
“I was going to say, that’s ridiculous. He’s twenty-four. He’s way too old for me.”
“Are you sleeping with anyone age-appropriate?”
“Areyou?” I shoot back. “Orolder women, your preference?”
“I asked you first.”
I laugh. “Seriously? You want to have this conversation here, now, and you’re calling dibs on theother peoplequestion?”
He holds my gaze. “Yep.”
I stare back. “Fine. No. I’m not.”
“Do you … want to?”
My heart rate quickens all of a sudden. Because there’s only one reason I can conjure for why he’d be bringing this up, and I basically gave up on Sawyer ever participating in this conversation, let alone initiating it.
I shake my head. Then, in case he possibly misinterpreted the motion, I add, “No. I don’t want to.”
I’ve never wanted to.
He exhales a long breath that sounds … relieved.
“Do you?” I whisper.
“No.” His answer is hasty. Decisive.
