3 Sides to a Circle by Jolene Perry, Janna Watts Page B

Libby. This is okay too.
     
     
    Three games in and Libby is kicking my ass.
    “Thought you had siblings?” she says with a smirk.
    “Are you cheating?” It’s possible she has been. I’m distracted, to say the least. Between the Vicodin and keeping up with her non-stop talking, she could have fixed every game we’ve played and I wouldn’t have noticed.
    “Of course not,” she says, but there’s a look in her eyes that makes me think that she’s been screwing with me from the start.
    “You are. You’re cheating.” I shove her knee, and I can’t stop myself from leaving my hand there.
    Libby looks down at it for a really long time and then laces her fingers in mine. “You’re too banged up for me to sleep with you. And it might just be pity sex, which probably isn’t the best idea.”
    I’m so used to these kinds of conversations with Libby that I almost don’t even react. Almost. “Is that on the table as an option?”
    I can’t believe I’ve actually said that out loud. It’s probably fake drug-induced bravado, but I stop myself from taking it back. Instead I leave it in the long stretch of space between us.
    Libby blinks at me, then leans over and kisses my cheek. “Not tonight , it isn’t,” she whispers.
    My hands want to pull her into me. To feel something real. To experience an emotion beyond fear and paranoia. But before I can do anything, say anything, or talk her into anything, she’s bounced back and grabbed Othello from the pile of games.
    “It’s impossible to cheat with this one,” she announces. “Unless you forget if you’re black or white.”
    “Okay then. Set it up.”
    She grins and her gaze dances around my still-swollen face. “You’re going to be okay. You had us worried. You had me worried. I shouldn’t have made you leave me that night. But I’m pretty sure you’re going to be okay.”
    This is the only way she knows how to acknowledge guilt. I can see it in her face. She’s telling me I’m going to be okay because she needs that from me. And as she opens up the box and begins to set up the board, I close my eyes for a minute and say a silent prayer that I can give it to her.

Chapter Fifteen
    Honor
     
    I shut the door to the bathroom in Sawyer’s family’s house and pull in a deep breath of air. I like Sawyer, no doubt. Really like him. But his family … It just seems like a little much for a guy I haven’t known all that long.
    Instead of actually using the bathroom , I lean against the wall and wish we were back in the car. He’s easy to talk to and seems ridiculously without flaws—except for begging me to come inside. Everything before his driveway was great.
    “Honey , you really shouldn’t have dragged her in here,” his mom whispers, and I strain to hear.
    “I…” But I don’t know if he fades out or gets too quiet for me to hear.
    “You’re going to scare the poor girl away.” She laughs a little at the end, kind of a soft, melodic sound that’s so motherly.
    “I just thought it would be nice for you to meet someone I met, Mom. That’s it.” Sawyer’s quiet, but defensive.
    “You can just be intense without meaning to,” she whispers back.
    I decide to ignore them by turning on the faucet and splashing my face with water.
    When I step out of the bathroom, a painting at the bedroom end of the hallway catches my attention. It’s definitely Sawyer’s work, but it’s of himself. I walk toward it, wanting a closer look.
    “Oh, no.” Sawyer chuckles behind me. “Not that one.”
    “You’re the one who asked me in, now you have to pay the consequences.” I glance over my shoulder , and my breath hitches a little at his smile.
    “Fair enough.” He stops behind me so close that the warmth of him spreads goose bumps across my skin.
    “When did you do this?” I ask as I purposefully don’t look at him. The painting is simple and not his usual modern style. It reminds me a bit of Van Gogh’s self-portrait.
    “Senior year of