education?”
I shrugged. “As opposed to … whatever.”
“I guess,” Sawyer said. “I don’t know. We play at the Prime Meridian sometimes.” He raised his eyebrows like a dare. “You should come.”
The Prime Meridian was a seedy little club off the highway in Dania, Bud Light and bouncers who didn’t bother to card. People got stabbed at the Prime Meridian. “Why don’t you ever play here?” I asked, without comment.
Sawyer snorted like that was hilarious. “My father would love that, I’m sure.”
“Why?” I shot back. “Do you suck that bad?”
“Hey, now.” He laughed again. “We’re freaking awesome, Serena.”
“Well,” I said, fidgeting. “I’m sure you are.”
A guy at the end of the bar ordered a scotch and soda; Sawyer stood up and reached for a bottle on the top shelf, shirt riding up his rib cage to reveal a small tattoo winding above the waistband of his jeans, a curling green infinity that I recognized from my calc book. “Did that hurt?” I asked as he scooped ice into a rocks glass.
“Did what hurt?”
I gestured vaguely. “On your back.”
“Oh. Nah.” Sawyer handed the guy his drink and leaned over the bar like he was going to tell me a secret. I smelled polished wood and limes. “I’m really manly.”
“Right,” I said, leaning in a little bit myself without meaning to. “Obviously.”
He tapped the bar twice, like a rhythm, and straightened up. “What about you, princess?” he asked me, in a voice like maybe he was kidding and maybe he wasn’t. “You got tattoos nobody knows about?”
I was opening my mouth to answer when my father came through the swinging doors at the far end of the restaurant. He stopped when he caught us at the bar. “Reena,” he said sharply—and I think he was more surprised than anything else, but still we’d never talked about what I’d been doing with Sawyer that night at the hospital, and one look at his face said he didn’t like what he saw. “You know I don’t want you sitting up there when we have customers. Come on.”
“Sorry,” I said, scrambling down from the barstool. My skin felt tight and hot. I didn’t look at Sawyer as I headed back to the office, two minutes late to punch in.
17
After
“It’s not a date,” I promise Soledad the next morning, when she asks for the particulars of my playground trip with Sawyer and Hannah. She’s sitting at the table drinking her favorite chai latte from an old Northwestern mug she ordered a million years ago, her tawny skin smooth and makeup-free. I really, really hate that mug. “He just wants to spend a little time with Hannah, so I said he could.” I tickle Hannah’s feet in her high chair, and she giggles. “Kiss, please,” I demand, then wait for her to plant one on me before I turn back to Sol. “I actually think it’s very adult behavior on my part.”
Soledad eyes me over her latte like she thinks perhapsthe lady doth protest too much. “I hear you and Hannah have a very busy social calendar,” is all she says.
“Oh, you’re hilarious.” I scowl.
Now it’s three thirty and 89 degrees out, and Sawyer and I are pushing Hannah in the baby swings on the playground outside the elementary school, asphalt warm and sticky under our feet. My car is still at the mechanic’s and Sawyer picked me up at the house, just like he used to; Count Basie was on the stereo and I had to concentrate hard on looking out the window, on not breaking to smithereens right there in the front seat. I don’t remember why I agreed to this. It didn’t even seem like a good idea at the time.
“So what made you change your mind?” he wants to know now. He’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, baseball cap pulled down low over his forehead, and I’m shocked to realize that he looks not like a rock star or a runaway boyfriend, but like a dad. He’s got another Slurpee and he brought me one, too, Coke-flavored and freezing, sweating pleasantly in my hand.
I raise my
I shrugged. “As opposed to … whatever.”
“I guess,” Sawyer said. “I don’t know. We play at the Prime Meridian sometimes.” He raised his eyebrows like a dare. “You should come.”
The Prime Meridian was a seedy little club off the highway in Dania, Bud Light and bouncers who didn’t bother to card. People got stabbed at the Prime Meridian. “Why don’t you ever play here?” I asked, without comment.
Sawyer snorted like that was hilarious. “My father would love that, I’m sure.”
“Why?” I shot back. “Do you suck that bad?”
“Hey, now.” He laughed again. “We’re freaking awesome, Serena.”
“Well,” I said, fidgeting. “I’m sure you are.”
A guy at the end of the bar ordered a scotch and soda; Sawyer stood up and reached for a bottle on the top shelf, shirt riding up his rib cage to reveal a small tattoo winding above the waistband of his jeans, a curling green infinity that I recognized from my calc book. “Did that hurt?” I asked as he scooped ice into a rocks glass.
“Did what hurt?”
I gestured vaguely. “On your back.”
“Oh. Nah.” Sawyer handed the guy his drink and leaned over the bar like he was going to tell me a secret. I smelled polished wood and limes. “I’m really manly.”
“Right,” I said, leaning in a little bit myself without meaning to. “Obviously.”
He tapped the bar twice, like a rhythm, and straightened up. “What about you, princess?” he asked me, in a voice like maybe he was kidding and maybe he wasn’t. “You got tattoos nobody knows about?”
I was opening my mouth to answer when my father came through the swinging doors at the far end of the restaurant. He stopped when he caught us at the bar. “Reena,” he said sharply—and I think he was more surprised than anything else, but still we’d never talked about what I’d been doing with Sawyer that night at the hospital, and one look at his face said he didn’t like what he saw. “You know I don’t want you sitting up there when we have customers. Come on.”
“Sorry,” I said, scrambling down from the barstool. My skin felt tight and hot. I didn’t look at Sawyer as I headed back to the office, two minutes late to punch in.
17
After
“It’s not a date,” I promise Soledad the next morning, when she asks for the particulars of my playground trip with Sawyer and Hannah. She’s sitting at the table drinking her favorite chai latte from an old Northwestern mug she ordered a million years ago, her tawny skin smooth and makeup-free. I really, really hate that mug. “He just wants to spend a little time with Hannah, so I said he could.” I tickle Hannah’s feet in her high chair, and she giggles. “Kiss, please,” I demand, then wait for her to plant one on me before I turn back to Sol. “I actually think it’s very adult behavior on my part.”
Soledad eyes me over her latte like she thinks perhapsthe lady doth protest too much. “I hear you and Hannah have a very busy social calendar,” is all she says.
“Oh, you’re hilarious.” I scowl.
Now it’s three thirty and 89 degrees out, and Sawyer and I are pushing Hannah in the baby swings on the playground outside the elementary school, asphalt warm and sticky under our feet. My car is still at the mechanic’s and Sawyer picked me up at the house, just like he used to; Count Basie was on the stereo and I had to concentrate hard on looking out the window, on not breaking to smithereens right there in the front seat. I don’t remember why I agreed to this. It didn’t even seem like a good idea at the time.
“So what made you change your mind?” he wants to know now. He’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, baseball cap pulled down low over his forehead, and I’m shocked to realize that he looks not like a rock star or a runaway boyfriend, but like a dad. He’s got another Slurpee and he brought me one, too, Coke-flavored and freezing, sweating pleasantly in my hand.
I raise my
Similar Books
