Chapter 11
Happy Thanksgiving
Falling back into the pattern of school was practically seamless. Before I knew it, people were ignoring me just like the old days. Even Josh had taken a break from the sneering to simply turn away from me; maybe our conversation had finally gotten to him. I was so used to seeing anger on his face, that I had no idea what the blankness meant.
A part of me reveled in the silence that permeated my day. A part of me longed for the friendships and polite acknowledgments that I'd gotten from this crowd for most of my life. But that was a long time ago, emotionally if not physically, and I shouldn't dwell. If it weren't for Sawyer though, I think I'd have faded into the wallpaper of the school, wrapped in my loneliness and regret.
Luckily for me, Sawyer did her best to bring me to life. Well, she did her best to make me smile anyway. Her parents hadn't caved yet on the whole after school visit thing, so all we had was our time at school and the never ending rides she gave me. We took advantage though, laughing and telling jokes and stories throughout the day. Sawyer had a knack for knowing just what mood I was in and skillfully turning it around, if needed.
She didn't talk much about her own moods, but I kept a close eye on her after any class we were apart, waiting for some sign that she'd been mistreated by the girls at school. I was a little shocked when she'd confessed that she was teased over being poor. I guess I'd just never noticed.
She was bright and warm and funny, and that got my attention more than what she was wearing. Of course, now that my attention was brought to it, I did see that she almost wore the exact same outfit every day: same jeans with the tears in the knees, same silver ring on her thumb, same Converse sneakers. Really, only the long-sleeve shirt or sweater got rotated. And over it all, she always wore my letterman's jacket. I was finally realizing that it really was her only coat. I was finally realizing just what my handing it to her on that first day had meant to her. I'm sure she'd gotten some heat from the student body, and probably from her parents too, over wearing a boy's coat, but it was something she didn't have that she'd desperately wanted, and a stranger had given it to her. If that were me, I'd probably feel pretty bonded to that person.
As we ate lunch in her car, I also noticed that, more often than not, she didn't have anything to eat, and I ended up sharing my lunch with her. It wasn't even a conscious thought on my part, I just automatically grabbed whatever I had and split it.
My mom and I struggled, although she still refused to let me get a job and help her, saying I needed to be seventeen while I was seventeen, and I'd have a lifetime of working ahead of me, but we still had the basic necessities. Sawyer seemed to live just under that. It made me feel even more protective of her.
I'd thought about confronting Brittany, who seemed to lead the pack that teased her the most, but I didn't. I knew I wouldn't like it if she tried to take on Will or Josh, so I didn't attempt to fight her battles for her. Besides, she seemed to have a great handle on what was truly important in life. She understood better than most, that bad situations weren't necessarily permanent ones, and life could get better.
I had less of a handle on that. I usually felt a little melancholy about my life. It was less intense when Sawyer was present, but it was still there, and when she left, sometimes it was unbearable. My dreams eased that ache, but added a different one too. I'd missed my friends after our impromptu board game, which Sammy had won readily. When I had woken up the next morning, I'd stared at my ceiling for a good ten minutes, reliving the dream, committing it to memory. . . wishing it was real, wishing I could crawl back inside that dream and disappear - stay there forever. My dreams always felt so real. Sammy's laugh, Darren's dirty comments, Lil's sweet touches. . . it all felt more real than the bleakness of being nearly invisible at school. My head hit the pillow every night, ready to let go of my day, and spend some more time with them.
It didn't always work, I didn't always see them, but, when I did, it was divine bliss. . . and pure torture. Because a part of me knew, that no matter how real it felt, it wasn't, and my friends were long gone and buried, moved on to somewhere that I couldn't follow. And that sort of killed me.
I considered talking to the counselor about my dreams, about how I'd live in them if I could, but I never brought it up. I didn't bring up much around Mrs. Ryans. Sure, she asked a lot of questions and eventually got me talking about some of the tamer things in my life, but my friends were an issue I skirted around. She seemed to realize that too. She'd try and casually slip them into conversation - so how are things going in the classroom? Anyone trying to pick fights with you? Did you ever fight with your friends. . . Darren or Sammy or Lil? What were those relationships like?
Ah. . . smooth.
I'd look down and shrug and give her the standard 'I don't want to talk about it' answer of, "Everything was fine. "
She finally did bring up the incident that got me sent to her in the first place - me being clearly out of it at school. She asked why I had done that, and in such a public way, and I'd shrugged at her and started to say "I don't know", when instead I slipped out, "I didn't, I was drugged. "
Her eyebrows shot up as high as mine. I really hadn't meant to mention that. Locking my jaw, so I didn't spill any more, I watched her wide eyes take in my face. "You didn't?" She tilted her head as her eyes narrowed, appraising me, searching for the honesty of my admittance.
I straightened my posture and lifted my chin, meeting her squarely in the eye. I may be guilty of a lot of things in my life, but this was one thing I wasn't guilty of. Feeling an odd soft of self confidence, I decided to go with it. "No. . . someone slipped something in my water. I accidently drank it, when Sawyer gave me some Aspirin for my headache. "
She tapped a pencil on her desk while she looked at me thoughtfully. I wasn't sure what she saw: a liar, a troubled kid, a victim. I didn't know what I wanted her to see either. I didn't feel like any of those things. Finally, she dropped her voice as she spoke, "That's a serious accusation, Lucas. . . have you gone to anyone about this?"
I shook my head. Without meaning to, I let out, "I don't have the best reputation. No one would believe me. "
She sat back in her chair as she considered that. Her face struggled with something, and I wondered if she even believed me. A surprising flutter in my stomach caught me off guard, and I realized that I wanted her to believe me. I almost needed her to. Her face finally settled into a professional mask and she leaned forward on her elbows. "Do you know who did it?"
I immediately shook my head again. A small slice of happiness burst through me that she seemed to be believing my story, but I still wasn't going to mention Josh's name. That was a can of worms that I didn't need opened. Besides, I was letting him go. . . letting what he'd done to me go. Bringing it up, getting him busted - none of that mattered.
She narrowed her eyes at me again and I knew that she didn't believe that. I expected her to press me on it, but she surprisingly changed the course of our conversation. Maybe my admittance, made her believe I'd admit to more. "Lucas. . . can you tell me what you remember of the accident?"
My mouth dropped open as what she'd asked me, mentally took me back a step. She'd asked about my friends before, but never that, never about the actual wreck. It was such a shift from what we had been talking about, that my mind was too stunned to respond properly. Luckily, I was so used to the lie that it automatically rolled off my tongue. "Nothing. " My senses recovered somewhat and I bristled at her question. Why did everyone feel the need to ask that? "I thought I was in here for being wasted at school. What does. . . that. . . have to do with anything?" I knew my face was a scowl, but I couldn't seem to soften it.
Hers softened as she looked over my expression. In a quiet voice, she answered, "It's all connected, Lucas. Are you sure you don't remember? What were you doing right before the crash?"
Laughing, talking. . . living. I shook my head, even more harshly. "I don't
know. I. . . I don't remember. I already said that!"
Her face still calm, even though I'd just yelled at her, she said, "What is the last thing you do remember?"
I clenched the chair, preparing to stand and storm out of the room. Heat and anger coursed through my veins, all with an icy edge, an edge of fear. I wanted her to stop. I didn't want to talk about this. Talking about it would be like grabbing a knife and cutting out my own heart. I wasn't capable of that. My throat locked up and I sputtered for words while tears clouded my vision. "I. . . I. . . I don't. Please. . . stop. . . "
A tear rolled down my cheek and she sighed softly when she saw it. "I'm sorry, Lucas. I know this is painful, but it's part of the process. You need to get this weight off of you. It's smothering you. Don't you see that?"
I shook my head as more tears followed the first. I swallowed, hating that I felt on the verge of screaming and sobbing. I could feel more awful tears and looked at the floor to try and calm myself down. Wanting it to end, I muttered, "Nothing, I remember nothing. "
She answered me equally as quiet, maybe bolstered by the fact that I hadn't fled the room yet. "They say beer was in the car, but you tested clean at the hospital. . . were you drinking, Lucas?"
My head shot up as the second most popular question passed her lips. I couldn't help the hurt in my face that she'd ask that. With everything we'd talked about and every connection I'd thought I'd had with her, I sort of expected her to instinctively know the answer to this. With an echo of hurt betrayal in my voice, I answered her question more thoroughly than I usually answered anyone. "No. . . I wasn't. I took the keys because Darren was drunk, then I drove us home. I was completely sober. " Hardness entered my voice as I shook my head, another tear falling. Bitterly I spat out, "You can take that or leave it. "
She looked down at her desk before lifting her gaze back to mine. She shook her head and her springy, red curls danced around her solid shoulders. A look of compassion crossed her face as she slowly answered me. "You're defensive. "
Her compassionate look heightened my irritation. I don't want to talk about this. I didn't understand why she couldn't just let it go. I scowled, angry at myself for ever opening up to her. "No one believes me anyway, so what does it matter what I say? If I do or don't remember? If I did or didn't drink? None of it matters. "
Her eyes widened as surprise flitted across her features. "Lucas. . . it's your voice. " She leaned in over her desk again, her hair brushing over some papers as she tried to get even closer to me, maybe to convey that she really was on my side. "It's the only voice that matters. You're the only one that was there. "
My face paled as I caught the error in her sentence. With only a ghost of a voice, I muttered, "No, I wasn't the only one there. . . that's the problem. " My mind flashed to my friends screaming in the car. . . Lil's head smacking the window. I felt my stomach rise.
"That's true. " She leaned back in her chair and sighed softly. "Alright, you are the only one that survived. "
Her voice was soft and full of compassion, but my stomach rose even higher and my head started to swim. I dropped it and stared at my lap, wishing I could vanish. "I know that. . . " That was the one fact I was horridly aware of.
She leaned over again and surprisingly put a hand on my shoulder. "So. . . Lucas, one day you'll actually have to start living. "
I looked back up at her, gazing at me with a genuinely sympathetic face. My body started to shake with the restraint to not break down in her office. She'd hit too many sore points - blow after blow. I was depleted, I was exhausted. . . I was done. I needed out of her office. I needed one of my comforts, be it Sawyer or a dream version of Lil. Standing on unsteady legs, I whispered, "Are we done?"
She watched me struggling with multiple emotions and then nodded. "Yes, Luc. I'll see you Monday after Thanksgiving break. "
I nodded absentmindedly as I backed out of the room. I'd nearly forgotten that I'd get a small reprieve from both her and the school for a long weekend. Of course, that meant no Sawyer as well. I clutched my stomach and hustled out of her office and out of the school, so I could feel the cool, crisp air across my clammy skin. I sat on a step outside the main doors and dropped my head into my hands, finally losing it.
Sawyer found me like that, what felt like an eternity later. I didn't notice at first. I didn't really notice the flurry of bodies walking past me and feet shuffling under my vision as I kept my head resting on my arms, hugging my knees. I really didn't notice anything until I felt Sawyer's arms slink around my shoulders. She pulled me into her and I sniffled, begging the torrent of tears to not start up again.
Sawyer kissed my head and rubbed my back, not asking what was wrong. She didn't need to. She knew I'd just come from the counselor. If I was this upset, she'd know why. What else brought me to a blubbering mess than my friends? Not much.
She kissed my head again and then laid hers down on my back as she continued rubbing circles on my jacket. She sighed softly and I finally felt the peace of her touch crawl into me. She whispered that everything would be okay and we sat in silence for long moments.
Eventually I shifted my stance and she lifted her head off my body. I sheepishly moved to look at her, wondering how horrid my eyes were. She bit her lip as she looked over my expression and then she lightly shook her head and put a hand on my cheek. I sniffled again and closed my eyes, leaning into her touch, stealing her warmth and kindness.
"Ready to go home?" she whispered and I tiredly nodded. I wanted to leave. I wanted to crawl into bed and never get out.
She helped me to my feet and slung her hand over my arm. She looked behind her and nodded to someone and I glanced back, seeing Ms. Reynolds watching the two of us with a concerned expression. I turned away before she could respond to me. I hated a teacher seeing me this way. I hated anyone seeing me this way, really.
Sawyer drove me home in that comfortable silence and surprisingly shut the car off when she pulled in my drive. I looked over at her and blinked sleepily. "What are you doing?" My voice was still scratchy from crying so hard on the steps.
She put a hand on my arm. "I'm being a friend. "
She opened her door while I half-heartedly opened mine. She grabbed my arm again while I reached into my bag and grabbed my keys. I wasn't sure what she was planning on doing, and I didn't want to get her in trouble, but I was eternally grateful that she wasn't leaving me yet.
I somehow managed to open the door and she pulled me back to my bedroom. I was so glum I couldn't even wonder why. She took my bag off my shoulder and then took off my jacket. She gently prodded me to sit on the bed and then she undid my shoes and took them off.
Confused, I watched her lift my legs onto the bed and then softly push me down until I lay back on the pillow. I started to stay something, but she laid down on the edge of the bed, facing me, bringing her legs up to mine and wrapping her arms around me. She pulled me down to her shoulder and I felt the emotion re-bubble in me. I tried not to, but as my arms snaked around her waist, I felt the tears resurface. I dropped my head and let the tears fall onto her shirt. She shushed me and rocked me and whispered that it would be okay, while I embarrassingly cried in her arms.
She stayed with me like that, gently rocking me, until my tears eased and sleep finally, and gratefully, took me.
I awoke with arms still around me. I wasn't sure how long I'd slept, but I was sure Sawyer was going to get in a lot of trouble for still being with me. Even though I loved the comfort of her arms around me, guilt washed through me. As much as it meant that she'd stayed, I didn't want her getting into trouble because of me.
Pulling back, I lifted my head from her shoulder and groggily spoke, "Sawyer, you should go. I don't want. . . " My scratchy speech cut off when my hazy vision cleared and I saw whose arms were around me. A small smile lifted the edge of my lip as I took in golden hair and pale blue eyes. With a stuttered exhale, I cinched my arms around her, pulling her as tig
ht to me as I possibly could. "Lillian. "
She rubbed my back and then ran her fingers through my hair, pulling my head into the crook of her neck. "Lucas. . . "
She kissed my head and laid her cheek on me as I took long, deep breaths, savoring the remembered feel of her beneath my fingertips as I clutched her tight, the remembered sound of her as she hummed softly in my ear, and the remembered smell of her as my nose rested against her collar bone. I immediately knew that I was still sleeping, possibly with Sawyer's arms still around me, but I didn't care. I had my girl and I gripped her with everything inside of me. I could feel the tears building up as I remembered my emotional day and I swallowed them back, not wanting to cry into yet another feminine shoulder.
She kissed my head again and then moved back to kiss my cheek. "Lucas. . . " She pulled back farther to plant a kiss along my jaw and I moved my head so our lips could touch. The emotion broke over me at feeling her soft lips move under mine. A small sob escaped me without my permission and her hands flew to my cheeks. "Oh, Lucas. . . " she muttered in the space between our kisses, "I'm so sorry. "
Another sob hit me as my hands moved up to wrap into her long, blonde locks and she deepened the kiss, angling her head to take more of me inside. As her fingers brushed aside some stray tears and her tongue ran along mine, I let go of the emotion threatening to overtake me. I had my girl. My girl loved me. My girl was here with me. My girl was real, as real as anything else.
I relaxed into the sensation of moving lips and tender fingers and eventually my breath became uneven for a different reason. I groaned and bent my body over her, pushing her gently back to the pillows. Her fingers ran up to clutch my hair and she made a soft noise as she pulled me into her. One of my hands released from her hair to trail over her shoulder and slide over her breast. I cupped the molded shape of her bra gently, before slipping my hand up under her shirt. She sighed as my fingers slid up that creamy skin and I gasped when the tips of my fingers ran over a rigid nipple; her bra had vanished.
Her fingers tightened in my hair and her lips more fiercely attacked mine, as I stroked my thumb over the sensitive peak. With a deep groan, I lifted her shirt and shifted my lips to that delicate skin. She moaned and arched against me, her fingers almost harshly urging my head closer. My lips covered her, my tongue swirled around her and I gently let my teeth scrape against her. She muttered my name and ran her leg up and down my calf. With a groan of my own, I placed a kiss between her breasts and then lifted her shirt to bring my attention to the other one.
That was when my world shifted.
Suddenly Lillian wasn't writhing beneath me. Suddenly she was standing near the window, chewing on her lower lip. I fell forward on the pillows when her body disappeared and it took me a second to adjust to the new situation. Real feeling or not, that was a strange experience. I looked over to her staring at me with a worried expression, her pale hair catching the faint light of what looked like early morning rays.
"Lil?" I asked, confused.
She gave me a sympathetic face and took a half step toward me before pausing. "I'm sorry, Luc. " She shook her head. "This isn't why I came here. "
My brows knotted together as I tried to understand the sudden change in the room. I'd been emotional when she first arrived, but she'd calmed me and then aroused me. I had no idea why she was now pushing me away. "Lil, what's wrong?" I patted the bed beside me as I rolled to face her. "Come back to me. "
She looked like she wanted to take a step, but was forcing herself not to. She shook her head and worried her lip so hard I was afraid she'd bite herself. "I can't, Luc. I came here to comfort you. I know how hard today was, but we can't. . . We shouldn't. . . " She sighed and closed her eyes for a second, and for a moment she looked just as tired as me. She tilted her head when she reopened them. "Luc, we shouldn't be together. . . like that. "
I sat up on the edge of the bed, my breath hitching. "Why not, Lil? It's me and you. . . what could be more right than that?"
She shook her head sadly. "It's not helping you, Lucas. Look at how hard today was for you. . . you couldn't even talk about us. " She shrugged her shoulders as she indicated me and herself. "This isn't helping you move forward. "
I cocked my head at her. "Is this because of the field? Because we almost. . . " She looked down and I stood up, walking over to where she stood at the window. I gently placed my hand under her chin, lifting her head so she'd look at me. "You wanted to, Lil. We both wanted. . . "
She nodded. "I know. . . we were ready. " She brought a hand to my cheek, rubbing her thumb back and forth. "But making love to me. . . won't bring you happiness in real life, Luc. " She dropped her hand, her eyes misting over. "And that's what I need to think about - your happiness, while you're alive. " Her voice choked up and she swallowed roughly.
I put my hands on her waist, inching towards her. "Are you. . . breaking up with me, Lil?" I rested my head against hers, knowing my question was stupid - you couldn't get broken up with by a dead person - but my heart raced anyway.
She exhaled brokenly and brought her hands to my cheeks. "Oh, Lucas. . . no. " She rocked her head against mine. "I'm not capable of that, not even in death," she whispered.
I lowered my lips to find hers and she returned my kiss tentatively. "Lillian. . . I. . . I. . . "
I love you. I adore you. Don't ever go away. I need you. . . stay with me, because I'll never love anyone but you. I wanted to say it, I wanted to finally pour my heart out to this warm, wonderful person in my arms. . . but I couldn't. For some reason, I just couldn't, and my throat completely locked up on me.
"I know, Luc," she whispered, as she kissed me a final time. She pulled back to look over my face. "I am glad that you're finally starting to talk to someone about some things, Lucas. " She half-grinned. "Someone alive, that is. "
I half smiled at that and shrugged. "I really haven't said anything. . . "
She put her hands on my arms, rubbing them up and down. "Not yet, but you're trying. It's a start. You should tell her about the wreck, Luc. She's right, you shouldn't hold that in. " I frowned and started shaking my head. I didn't want to talk about that. She sighed at my reaction and tilted her head again. "Maybe it's time you opened up. . . to Sawyer. "
Sawyer's name passing her lips gave me an odd, guilty feeling. I looked down and bit my lip, knowing dream Lil was well aware of everything that had transpired between the two of us. I felt her hand on my chin and reluctantly looked up at her. "I know, Luc. You're. . . close with her. " She smiled sadly and ran her thumb along my jaw. "That's the way of things, Luc. That's normal, that's what moving on should be. It's healthy and I. . . I want that for you. "
Her eyes misted over and when a tear spilled down her cheek, I grabbed them and brought her face to mine, kissing her repeatedly. "No, no, Lil. I don't care for her like I care for you. We're just friends. I'm not with her and I won't ever be. I'd never do that to you. " I pulled back as more tears spilled from her eyes. I had no idea if she was sad because of Sawyer's and my relationship. . . or because of what I'd just said. It spilled out as my own confliction ran through me, "Lillian, it's you I'm in lov-"
I jerked awake before the words fully left my mouth.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing sleep to take me, willing my dream to return, right where I'd left off, desperate to finish telling Lil I loved her - to finally get that off my chest. I couldn't though. I was awake and sleep eluded me. I gave up and opened my eyes, looking around at my reality. Being cold was the first thing I noticed. Even though a blanket was over my dressed body, a chill went through me. A chill that said this is real, Luc. That was fake and this is real.
I clutched the blanket and brought it farther up my chest. The second thing I noticed was that it was dark out. I gazed out the window, not able to tell if I'd only taken a long nap and it was early night outside, or if I'd completely zonked out and it was pre-dawn. A quick glance at my clock confirmed that it was the l
atter. I'd fallen asleep in Sawyer's arms and stayed asleep all night. My hand went to the spot on the bed where Sawyer had been comforting me. I wondered how long she'd stayed. . . and if she'd gotten in trouble for it.
I sighed and curled myself into a ball, feeling cold and alone and tired from too much sleep. My dream had started out so comforting but had turned on me and a pit of ice was firmly settled in my stomach. If Lil turned her back on me. . . I wasn't sure how I'd get through my life then. I couldn't imagine night after lonely night without ever seeing her again. I didn't even want to imagine it.
The sounds of someone else awake, prodded me into movement. I stood and wiped the sleep from my eyes, yawning and stretching, all at the same time. I shuffled out into the living room and noticing the kitchen light on, made my way there.
I smiled as I watched my small mother, dressed in her bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers, preparing a turkey to put in the oven. Her hands moved with practiced ease over the large bird, as she filled one end of it with stuffing and then shoved it in an oven bag. With everything I'd been feeling lately, I'd completely forgotten that today was Thanksgiving. Mom always had to work at the diner in the evening (it was a busy night for the restaurant, as those without a family to go to came in for some good food), so Mom always prepared our dinner early, always making a huge bird, so we'd have leftovers forever. I think my mom felt guilty about my Hot Pocket dinner habit.
She looked up at me when she noticed my entrance. She cocked her head and glanced at the clock. "Morning, honey, you're up early?"
I shrugged and walked over to the coffee pot to start a batch. "I guess that's what happens when you go to bed in the afternoon. "
She blinked before returning to her bird prep. "Afternoon? You were deep asleep when I came home, but you were still dressed, so I covered you up. " She paused before lifting the heavy bird to put it in the oven. "You fell asleep in the afternoon? Are you feeling okay, honey?"
I shrugged again and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, Mom. Just tired, I guess. " She looked about to say more on the matter, but I distracted her by opening the oven door and commenting on her turkey. "I know you love turkey, Mom, but that bird is huge. "
She grinned as she slid the heavy tray into the oven. "Well, I have a confession. " I closed the door and she wiped her hands off on a towel draped over the handle. Her face looked excited and guilty, and I raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't be mad. . . " she started and I frowned; when people started sentences that way, it usually never ended well.
"What did you do, Mom?" I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the counter, waiting.
She bit her lip, but smiled. "Well, I didn't want to say anything, because I was sure it wasn't going to happen. " She shook her head. "In fact, I was positive it wouldn't, until I got a call last night at the diner. " She grinned and her entire face lightened; for a moment she looked ten years younger.
I tried to keep my scowl, but smiled at seeing her so happy. "What are you talking about?"
She put a hand on my arm. "I invited Sawyer and her parents to dinner. " She laughed softly. "They said yes. "
My smile dropped. "You what?"
She scrunched her brows at my reaction. "I invited. . . I thought you'd like that? The two of you seem so close. . . "
I shook my head, trying to understand what had just happened. Sawyer's parents had firm rules, and didn't seem to like me at all. They'd agreed to come over? Come over. . . I'd get to see Sawyer today. I'd prepared myself for a long weekend without her, and here I'd get at least one more day with her, parents or not. I finally grinned widely and hugged my mom, who giggled like she was ten years younger. "No, I'm happy, really happy. I'm just shocked, I guess. "
I pulled back and eyed my wonderful mother appreciatively. "Thanks, Mom. " I shook my head in disbelief. "I can't believe you did that for me. "
She shook her head and patted my cheek. "Oh, Luc. . . there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you, you know that. " She went about prepping dinner and I smiled softly at her before finishing my task of making us coffee. She glanced back at me over her shoulder. "It wasn't easy though. Her parents were very. . . resistant. "
I sighed as I filled the pot with water. "I don't think they like me. "
She frowned at that. "They don't even know you. "
I avoided her gaze and poured the water into the pot. "The rumors are everywhere, Mom. I'm sure they've heard them. " I whispered that and studied the flowing water, like my life depended on me watching it enter the machine. Mom and I didn't usually discuss the torrent of gossip that surrounded me. In fact, we generally ignored that subject, a lot of subjects actually.
Her hand touched my arm. "Luc. . . look at me. " Briefly closing my eyes, I turned my head to see my exact shade of eyes warmly absorbing me. "We'll just have to convince them that the rumors are just that. . . rumors. " She patted my arm and then brought a hand to my cheek as my eyes misted. "You're a good boy, Lucas. Sawyer is lucky to have you, and they'll see that. I promise. "
I sniffed and shook my head, smiling a little to release the emotion building. "Yeah, sure, Mom. " She patted my arm a last time and then went back to her meal prep. I finished making the pot, ignoring the emptiness of her promise and focusing on the sentiment instead. For a moment, I wondered why my mom was still alone. She was wonderful and warm and so open to loving someone. As I watched her from the corner of my eye, I hoped that her own loneliness wasn't because of me.
I helped my mom in the kitchen for the rest of the morning with the things that she felt my inexperienced hands couldn't mess up - mainly peeling potatoes and opening the can of cranberries. We worked in a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company without feeling the need to fill the space with chitchat. We got dressed and cleaned the house, putting on some cheerful music in the process. Time passed and the kitchen filled with an aroma that made my stomach rumble. Mom laughed at the loud sound and popped a giant-sized cookie in my mouth, just as the doorbell rang.
Smiling around the edge of the huge snack, my empty stomach suddenly felt full of swarming butterflies as I realized who was here - Sawyer. I took the cookie out, taking a large bite, and eagerly made my way to the door. I opened it with my cheeks full of my treat and started laughing softly in my anticipation.
Sawyer's pale gray eyes were the first thing I noticed, followed by her huge grin and that straight, super dark hair, held back from her face by two silver clips that gleamed in the noon sunshine. Then I flicked my gaze down at her hands, outstretched in front of her and holding a pumpkin pie. "Hi, Lucas! We brought dessert!" She giggled adorably, seeming to be as excited to see me, as I was to see her. I grinned and took the pie from her with one hand, while wrapping my cookie hand around her waist, pulling her in for a tight hug.
That was when I noticed she wasn't alone. A deep voice cleared their throat behind her and I opened my eyes, that I hadn't even realized I'd shut, and looked up at Sawyer's father scowling at me. Oops. My getting handsy with his daughter was probably not the best way to make him feel at ease with me. I immediately dropped my hand from around her waist and straightened. With my "grownup" face, I handed the remainder of the cookie to Sawyer (who took a big bite with an even bigger grin on her face) and extended my hand out to him.
Swallowing the last of the cookie in my mouth, I said, "Hello, sir, I'm Lucas West. " My seriousness faded as delight broke over me. "I'm so glad you came. "
Sawyer's dad was intimidating. He seemed like he'd be right at home chopping lumber deep in the forest and I wondered briefly what he did for a living. He was a good five inches taller than my six-two and much wider than me. His hair was a sandy brown and his eyes were a blue-gray color that complimented Sawyer's. I felt my grin slip as his lips twisted into a not amused look, and I took a step away from Sawyer, just to be on the safe side. He harrumphed some sort of response and instead of shaking my hand, placed his on Sawyer's shoulder protectively.
I swallow
ed and felt like taking a step back until a voice beside him spoke. "We're delighted to be invited. Thank you, Lucas. "
I glanced over at Sawyer's mother. I'd always pictured her to be an older version of Sawyer - super dark hair and beautiful gray eyes - but she couldn't have been more different. Her eyes had a slightly more noticeable almond shape than Sawyer's and were a light golden brown, her hair, a tawny color, that, aside from the straightness, looked nothing like Sawyer's. But her smile. . . that was an exact match.
She extended her hand out to me and I shook it lightly. "It's nice to finally meet you, Lucas. Sawyer has told us a lot about you. " I glanced over at Sawyer; she looked beyond embarrassed, and was attempting to shake her dad's hand off her shoulder.
I suppressed a grin at Sawyer's irked face and stepped back, indicating inside. "Please. . . come in. "
Sawyer's mom smiled and grabbed her husband's hand, urging him across the threshold. He seemed to follow her reluctantly, still skillfully keeping his hand on Sawyer, his message coming across loud and clear - don't touch. I ran a hand through my hair as I shut the door behind them.
I caught Sawyer's eye as she ate the rest of my cookie. She rolled her eyes at her dad's firm grip on her and then gave me that wry smile I loved. While her parent's quickly eyed my home, I glanced at her outfit. I generally didn't notice what she wore, but I couldn't help but notice today, it was such a change from her standard jeans and t-shirt. Today, she was wearing a dress. It was simple, green and long-sleeved, but combined with her dark hair and light skin, it was beautiful. I grinned and mouthed, 'I like your dress'.
Sawyer and I were good at lip reading, doing it a lot during class, and she smiled and flipped up the knee length hem in a quick curtsey. I started to laugh and her dad immediately swung his attention back around to me. Seemingly on autopilot, his hand pulled Sawyer back to him and she squeaked at the sudden movement. She turned her head to glare at him, just as my mom came out of the kitchen, swiping her hands on her slacks.
"Oh good. Mark, Pam, you made it. " My mom extended her hand out to the pair.
Sawyer's mom, Pam, took my mom's hand in both of hers and warmly shook it. "Well, it was very generous of you to invite us, Victoria. How could we say no?"
She glanced back at her husband, who cleared his throat and stepped away from Sawyer. "Yes, thank you. " Sawyer's dad, Mark, had a voice as low and deep as his size, and he seemed to dwarf my mom as he shook her hand after his wife. His face had softened into genuine kindness though and I took that to mean that his issue was with me and not my mother. That was to be expected, I suppose.
My mom beamed as she shook their hands, happy to have company in her home again. "Please, call me Vicky, only my mom calls me Victoria. " She glanced at Sawyer standing beside me after introductions were finished. "Oh, Sawyer. . . you look beautiful, honey. "
Sawyer blushed and looked down at the compliment. "Thank you, Mrs. West. "
Sawyer and my mom had never truly been officially introduced, but they'd seen each other plenty of times, including that unfortunate time when I was whacked out in the nurses' office. There was enough familiarity between them that I didn't need to make any introductions. Besides, my mom adored Sawyer. Sawyer made me smile, and at a time when not much did, that was enough to practically make Sawyer family to her.
Mom looked over at me, a huge grin on her face. Noticing the pie in my hands, she grabbed it and ruffled my hair. I bit back the embarrassment as she merrily thanked me for holding it. She artfully thanked Sawyer's parents for bringing it, complimenting Mrs. Smith on her shoes and Mr. Smith on his tie. Both of Sawyer's parents had dressed up for the occasion, probably in the nicest clothes they owned. With the ease of someone used to throwing dinner parties, which we never really did, she ushered both parents into the kitchen to help her open a bottle of wine. She winked at me before she disappeared with them and I grinned; Mom had just given me alone time with a girl. I started to wonder just how much Mom liked Sawyer.
I nodded over to the couch and Sawyer followed me. She sat down beside me, fidgeting a bit as she remembered she was wearing a dress and not jeans, and finally crossing her legs demurely in front of her. She leaned back with me on the sofa and put her hand over mine, lacing our fingers.
"I wasn't expecting to see you for awhile. " I said quietly over the music.
She shrugged. "I wasn't expecting it either. " She glanced back at the kitchen. "They told me last night when I got back from your place. They were a little mad that I was late, but when I told them that you were. . . " She trailed off and I blushed and looked down. What I'd been was bawling like a baby. Great, she'd told them that? Oh well, that was probably the least embarrassing thing they'd heard about me. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, after that, they told me about the invite and I begged them to say yes. " I looked over at her when I felt her squeeze my hand. "Surprisingly, they said okay. " She grinned and leaned into my side.
I leaned back into hers, leeching her comfort as surely as her warmth. "Well, I'm glad they did. "
She smiled warmly and then a small frown turned her lips down. "Are you alright? After last night, I mean. " Her free hand came up to cup my cheek. "You were really upset. . . "
I swallowed and looked away, down to the ring on her thumb enclosed in my fingers. My own thumb came up to stroke the cool metal. "Yeah, I'm fine. It was just. . . too much. . . "
I let that trail off, not wanting to go into details. Sawyer didn't ask them, instead, switching the topic to her overprotective parents and the list of rules she'd been given before leaving the house, one of which she was breaking already by being alone with me. I chuckled and she amended that, "Well, technically they said I wasn't to be alone in your room with you, so I guess this is okay. "
She squeezed my hand and I laughed and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Then I suppose I shouldn't tell them you were in my bed last night. "
She giggled and glanced back to the kitchen. "God no, they'd drag me out of here so fast, you'd see the smoke trails. "
I sighed and looked over her face while she giggled. "They really don't care for me, do they?"
Her giggles subsided while she returned my gaze. "I told you. . . it's not you, Luc. " She bit her lip and I could tell there was a big fat 'but' following that. I motioned with my hand for her to spit it out. She chuckled a little and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, come on. I have a history of poor choices when it comes to guys and, here I am, hanging out with a cute boy who just got suspended from school for being high, and is surrounded by sordid rumors of drinking problems. You do the math. "
She eyed me with that adorable half smile and I grinned in spite of myself. Ignoring the hurtful truth in her statement, I focused on the one part I could make light of. "You. . . think I'm cute?"
She laughed so loud at that, that we both glanced back to the kitchen, but my mom was doing a great job of running interference for us. We laughed and talked some more while my mom occupied her parents, but eventually she did come out and motion to us that dinner was ready. Our kitchen was too small for everyone to eat in, so we'd set up a card table and some folding chairs in the living room. After everyone loaded up their plates with delicious smelling food, we all scrunched together at the table, Sawyer and I taking one side, while one parent each took the three remaining sides.
Sawyer and I laughed and bumped each other playfully at our close proximity, which made her dad scowl and clear his throat at us. Sawyer twisted her lips at him but I straightened up and stopped fooling around. He eyed us throughout the meal, like he was waiting for me to do. . . something. Sawyer's mom watched us too, but skillfully hid it between polite conversations with my mom. Her dad didn't care about being polite; he was practically screaming 'keep away' at me. I would have found it funny, if he hadn't been so intimidating.
For her part, Sawyer looked torn between accepting her parent's strictness and telling them off for it. I wasn't sure where the line was for her
, but when her dad suggestively cleared his throat when she leaned in to ask me for the salt and pepper, I thought she was quickly approaching it.
Sawyer sat back in her chair after that and scowled at him. He matched her look for a second, before shifting his eyes to mine. For a moment, I saw Sawyer's gray eyes staring back at me, and that momentary resemblance relaxed me some. . . until he spoke.
"So, Lucas. . . "
My body tensed at the possible list of questions he could ask me. Sawyer beside me tensed as well. He glanced over to her and shut his mouth, maybe changing his mind. He twisted his lips and sighing a little, shrugged. "To be perfectly honest, we only agreed to come here today because Sawyer begged us. "
Everyone at the table stopped eating and an uncomfortable tension filled the room. I glanced at my mom, who was frowning at him. He cleared his throat and continued, "But, now that we're here, I think this is the perfect opportunity to say that. . . " he took a deep breath and turned to face my mom, "your son needs to keep his distance from our daughter. "
My mom dropped her mouth open in shock, her face paling at the directness of his statement. I felt Sawyer beside me start to shake in anger and even Sawyer's mom closed her eyes and hung her head. Either Sawyer or my mom were about to lose it, I could tell from their looks and body language. Surprisingly, I lost it first.
"What? Why? Because of what happened with my friends? Because of the rumors about that night?" I shook my head, irritated. "None of those are true. " Noisily throwing my fork down on my plate, I practically yelled, "I'm not a drunk!"
His intense eyes focused on mine, but the next words spoken, came from Sawyer's mother and not him. "No, Lucas. This isn't because of your. . . situation, not solely anyway. " I shook my head, confused, but she sighed and grabbed her daughter's hand, squeezing it gently, her eyes nearly begging her daughter to calm down as Sawyer looked about ready to smash her plate on the floor. "This is because of Sawyer's. . . situation," she said quietly.
The anger in my body instantly evaporated, replaced by concern for my best friend. I looked over at Sawyer, who was shaking her head, tears starting to fill her eyes. "I don't understand," I whispered.
Sawyer jerked her hand away from her mom, who looked hurt by the rejection. Her dad's deep voice answered me, a surprising softness in it. "She's been through a lot this last year and she doesn't need someone. . . like you. . . dragging her back down. "
I bristled at the derogatory tone in the word 'you', but it was Sawyer who flew off the handle. "He doesn't drag me down, Daddy. " Her hands flew up in the air as she glared between her two parents. "I'm doing better, you even said so yourself!"
Her mother reached over for her hand again, while my mom and I exchanged confused glances. I really had no idea what they were talking about. "That's because of your efforts, dear. "
Sawyer pulled away from her hand again and shook her head, a tear dropping to her cheek. "No - it's because of him! I'm better because of him!" More tears fell and her voice started quavering. Not caring that her parents were denouncing me in front of her, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her tight, my need to comfort her, stronger than any stern warning her father could give me. She leaned into my side as her tears flowed freely. "You can't separate us, Dad, we need each other. "
Her pleading tone tore my heart and tears stung my own eyes. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I knew this moment was critical for Sawyer's and my continued relationship. If they forbade her from seeing me. . . I wasn't sure what would happen to me. "She's right. . . please?" I looked between her parents, begging clear in my eyes and in my voice.
Her father's eyes turned surprisingly sympathetic and nearly as tired looking as my own mother's eyes so often were. "We just don't want to see you hurt, Sawyer. . . "
I immediately answered for her, as I shook my head. "I'd never hurt her, she means everything to me. She's my best friend. "
My mom, finally getting over her shock, started to interject, but Sawyer's mom placed a hand on her arm, staring intently at her husband, who seemed to be turning over my words. Finally, he slowly said, "Just. . . a friend, you have no romantic interests in her?"
Sawyer straightened from my side and wiped a hand across her eyes. "Dad!"
I ignored her protest and held his eye, knowing that this was the make or break point for her father. This was the way I could keep her close. . . by pushing her away. "No. . . no, I'm not interested in her that way. I'm with someone. . . else. I have a girlfriend. "
The entire room silenced as my words sunk in. Sawyer minutely inched away from me, shrugging my arm off of her. I couldn't look at her, but I imagined that her face was confused, maybe even hurt. I glanced at my mother instead who kept looking at Sawyer with bewilderment clear in her features. She didn't know what I meant, she never saw me with anyone but Sawyer. She didn't realize I meant Lillian. Sawyer's parents looked between each other with surprised faces. Sawyer's mom looked at her, concerned, but her father looked at me, pleased.
"Oh, well. . . that changes things a bit. " He smiled and leaned back in his seat. "Okay then, Sawyer, if being his friend means that much to you, I suppose we can support it. You have improved and maybe he is why. . . " He thought for a moment, while my mouth dropped open as I tried to understand what they were talking about. Just when I was about to ask a question, he smiled and leaned forward in his chair. "Okay, the short visits you had before would be alright - but short mind you. " He pointed at me when he said that, and I swallowed and nodded.
I finally looked over at Sawyer, worried I'd hurt her, but she was eyeing her parents scornfully. "Well, thank you, Dad, for bringing that up here, like that, and completely embarrassing me. " She stood and tossed her napkin on her plate. "The meal was wonderful, Mrs. West, please excuse me. " With that, she left the table and walked outside, slamming the door shut behind her.
Her father sighed and looked over at her mother. "I suppose I could have handled that differently?"
Her mom sighed and twisted her lips at him. "You think, Mark?"
She started to stand, to go after her daughter, when I stopped her. "Do you mind if I. . . ?" I nodded my head over to where Sawyer had gone and her mom sat back down and nodded.
As I started to stand, her father put his hand on my arm. "I wasn't trying to insult you, son. I realize you mean a lot to her. " He sighed wearily. "I'm just trying to protect her. " His eyes aged dramatically as he gazed at me.
I swallowed and nodded at him before looking over at my mom. "I'll be back in a minute," I said to her as I stood. She nodded, faint red splotches on her cheeks from listening to her son be sort of attacked right in front of her. She flicked glances at Sawyer's parents and I wondered if there would be words said when I left. . . probably.
Sighing softly, I made my way to the door. I closed my eyes before opening it, not relishing seeing the effect of my statement on Sawyer. She knew we weren't together like that, we talked about it often enough, but sometimes. . . sometimes it felt like we were anyway, and I really had no desire to hurt her, by belittling our relationship in front of her family. It was just a means to an end.
I closed the door softly behind me and cautiously made my way to where she was sitting on the front step, arms around her knees. She didn't look when I sat down, only hugged her knees tighter. It was chilly outside and neither one of us had jackets on. Wondering if I should, I put a hand across her shoulders and pulled her into me. She sighed and laid her head on my shoulder.
"Sorry about that," I muttered, as I ran a hand up and down her arm.
She looked up at me. "My dad's the ass," she bit out.
I smiled at her and shook my head. "He just cares about you. . . that's all. "
She leaned back and looked over my face. "I know," she whispered.
I wanted to ask her about the many parts of the conversation that I couldn't follow, but her eyes still looked overly moist and I didn't want to make her break down. I
wanted to make her happy, like she so often made me. I wanted to reiterate the good news that had come out of the whole debacle, that she could visit again, but she started speaking before I could.
"What did you mean. . . about seeing someone, Lucas? Do you. . . do you have a girlfriend?" Her voice was barely above a whisper and wavered on the end of her sentence.
I stared down at my shoes, not able to look her in the eye. I couldn't tell her about Lillian - about meeting with her in my dreams, about all the times we'd been intimate lately, and how it felt better to me than anything in reality, well, almost anything anyway. I couldn't tell her, that to me, Lil was still my girlfriend; we were still in love, still together. I couldn't tell her any of that - she wouldn't understand.
Still not meeting her eye, I whispered, "No, there's no one. " No one alive anyway, I added in my head. "It was just something to say. . . to get him off our backs. " I finally looked over at her. "I mean, he doesn't need to worry about you and me. We're just friends. . . right?"
She smiled weakly at me. "Yeah, right. . . of course. "
I grinned and pulled her tight. "Happy Thanksgiving, Sawyer. "
She chuckled softly and laid her head back down to my shoulder. "Happy Thanksgiving, Lucas. "