“I won’t tell anyone what you’re up to. Breaking you out would get me expelled, and as much as I hate this dump, I can’t afford to be kicked out.”
What are the chances he knows where Sawyer lives? It isn’t possible… but why is he even helping me?
“Fine,” I pull up the gps on my phone and show him where I need to go. It’s only about five minutes from here anyway by bike.
“So you decided to go after the big brother first? You must have some big balls.” He smirks.
“Something like that,” I mutter in response, wondering how the hell he knows that the address belongs to Sawyer.
“Here,” he says, handing me his phone. “Program your number and call yourself.”
I do as he asks, thinking it can’t hurt to have his number. He seems like he could be a good ally to have here at Knox.
He mounts the bike after unchaining it and hands me the only helmet that was resting on the handlebars. I chuck it on the grass and get on the bike behind him. He doesn’t chastise me for refusing to wear the lid, just revs the engine and tells me to hold on tight.
We take off, winding between trees until we finally hit an open road, which is a much smoother ride. Once I know I’m not about to be flung off the back, and my bones have stopped rattling, I relax a little and enjoy the ride. It’s exhilarating and I love it, but I don’t know if my jubilation comes from the wind whipping my face, or the freedom of being off campus for something other than a fake family meal.
Within five minutes we have stopped at the end of Sawyer’s street, Baxter steadies the bike so I can climb off, he helps me fix my hair, which is pretty wild. Probably should have worn the helmet after all.
“Call me when you’re done, and I will be here waiting.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t, but I’m feeling generous. I mean, it is almost your birthday after all.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just know things.” He laughs
“How do I look?” I change the topic.
“Fuckable,” he replies without hesitation. “Man’s a fool if he doesn’t tap that.” He winks and takes off.
Walking down the street it still feels weird to me that there are so many duplex style houses here, all so close together. But I find his place easily and knock.
My breath is lost when he opens the door in a pair of sweats and a white shirt tight enough to show the definition of his muscles. His colourful tattoos line his right arm.
He steps aside to let me in. I was expecting a bachelor pad, but this feels very homely and my mind wanders to a life where I would go to work and come home to a cosy place like this with it’s dark wood and light coloured furnishings.
“Hi,” he says breaking the silence.
“Hi back. Nice house.”
“Thanks, take a seat.”
I get the feeling he doesn’t do this often; most guys would be quick to guide you into the bedroom. I don’t know what it is about him, but I feel a pull between us. I’m sure it’s only sexual and we can both benefit from this before it all comes crashing down. I almost feel bad for him that he has to be collateral damage, but if he's anything like his brothers, I’m sure he will deserve it too.
“Drink?” he offers, holding up a bottle of whiskey from one of those fancy looking mini bars that rich guys generally have.
“Sure.” He pours two glasses and takes a seat beside me.
“How did it go with those papers?” I ask, trying to make small talk.
“I gave up, most days I love teaching but some kids make it so hard.”
“I’m sure they do.”
“So what do you do here?”
