“Cool,” is my ironically lame reply. “When do you leave?”
“Few weeks.”
He’s not being unfriendly, but I’m definitely the one prolonging this conversation. I should just say what I came to and head home. I’m sure I’m over time anyway. I’ll call Mom on the drive home, which will hopefully keep her from freaking out too much.
“Well, I just wanted to say …”
“Goodbye?” he supplies as my voice trails.
“No. I mean, yeah, that too. But mainly, I’m sorry about last night. About storming out of here and about how I acted at Lucky’s. I was … getting drunk seemed like a solution at the time, and I’m sorry you had to … deal with that.”
“You remember it?”
“Mostly, I think,” I reply. “More than I’d like to, honestly, like the side-of-the-parking-lot bit.”
Mention of me vomiting draws a smile out of him. “I lost count of how many drinks you had. It’s impressive you kept that down for as long as you did.”
“I’ll mention that to my parents. Maybe they’ll be less disappointed.”
His smile lingers for a few more seconds, then slowly disappears.
“Thank you also. For sticking that extremely unflattering moment out and for driving me home. My mom said you carried me upstairs, andI doubt I managed to brush my teeth and change into pajamas on my own, so … thanks.”
Another nod.
“Okay. Bye.” I start to wave, think better of it, and tuck my hair behind my ear in an artless attempt to cover up my uncertainty.
He calls my name once I’m halfway across the yard. I turn quickly, my expression probably far too eager.
“You forgot your phone,” Sawyer adds, snagging it off the steps and then walking toward me.
Definitelyfar too eager.
“Oh. Right.” I laugh awkwardly, reaching out to retrieve it from him.
Except Sawyer doesn’t let my phone go. He holds my gaze, too, and we’re a lot closer than we were before. His smell surrounds me—laundry detergent and salty air and sunscreen and something more musky or masculine that I always assumed was cologne. But I’ve never seen him put any on, so maybe it’s just his body wash or deodorant.
“Be careful in LA and Newport and Paris and Italy and wherever else you’re going.”
I try to ignore the pounding in my chest as my pulse reacts to his close proximity. And to what sounds suspiciously like concern. “Trust me, I’m off alcohol forawhile.”
One corner of his mouth tilts up, and my heart ricochets against my rib cage in response.
“I didn’t mean drinking. Wear a seat belt and a life jacket, that sort of thing.”
I frown. “Wouldn’t the life jacket get in the way of the seat belt? Sounds like a straitjacket situation.”
He rolls his eyes, but his smile has grown a little wider. “You’re such a smart-ass.”
I grin back. “You too. I mean, be careful. Don’t tear your other UCLor go bluffing after dark or anything.” At his questioning look, I add, “I found a blog online that mentioned what happened in the league.”
Sawyer nods once. “Fucking up my left arm is highly unlikely. Despite my dad’s best efforts, I was never much of a switch pitcher.”
My phone lights up in his hand.Momis calling.
“Time’s up,” I say, grimacing.
“I should head in anyway. Someone made a fuck ton of fish tacos in my kitchen last night, and I’ve been looking forward to eating the rest of them all day.”
